Like the Faraway Tree, the SBW Stables Theatre’s same wooden stairs lead to an utterly different world. On this occasion the diamond space is hemmed by exposed fluro lights, a white floor mirror-lined, a set of primary-school bubblers, a white pole upstage left… A large wooden crate… huddled figures in opaque raincoats mutter and focus.

This is the jungle. They are soldiers. Waiting.

In this jungle, the soldiers are waiting in bikinis and underwear as the uniforms they were issued are not suitable for this climate. The women of this division hold rank – and the men, should they have sex with any of the women are destined for their demise. They spend their time fantasising, reminiscing, confessing, recalling memories of their lives or civilian world or grand mythic stories. And doing sit ups.

According to Daisy Noyes’ directors note – “For a Better World is not a “well-made play”! In Some ways it is not a play at all, written for a radio, without the restriction of physical staging…” Noyes’ production is clearly attempting to theatricalise what she views (or Schimmelpfennig has written) as a aural text: the visuals are key. Nudity, blood, smoke, disco coloured lights, inconceivably unbelieveable costumes, occasional pole dancing, plenty of feathers and a fan. A stunning design. Noyes’ production team are incredible – especially considering this is a co-op independent production.

Schimmelpfennig is somewhat of a favourite amongst independent theatre makers – with several of his plays produced int he last few years – Arabian Nights, For A Better World, Push Up. The Woman Before appears to be the first Schimmelpfennig play to be produced by a main stage theatre company in Australia – the STC’s version will open on the 8th February. The man reason for this may be that there is alot of problems raised in his writing – problems attractive to directors, designers and actors alike – leaving scope for creative interpretation and wild, brave solutions. However, in my limited experience of his writing – the main concern appears to be existential -examining the disconnect between self and society, or self and others. The ugly clashes and collisions of an over stimulated society and in this play, an under stimulated platoon who are seeking visceral sensation.

I am beginning to notice, that the staging of many plays I have seen lately, there is an overarching concern – and I wonder if this is generational – or socially specific. It seems for a generation of theatre makers, their greatest fear is silence, bare stages. The desire is to show excess – of light, costume, sound, design -the overwhelmingness of it all.

Designer Kate Davis has run wild -and the design is cohesive and impressive. But I’m not sure what it is saying beyond “this is a set representing clinical, German avant-garde art installation.” Lighting designer Emma Valente has not restrained her colour palate, and has dreamt big and vividly. Sound is created and performed live by Martin Kay and Michael Pulsford – layering magpies, ambient noise and bellbird through the sound design.

I absolutely applaud the brave and sassy vision of this production – robust and vivid imagery. However, I think some of my discomfort in this production lies in the script, as the story doesn’t start until the alien arrives – the top third appears to be filler.
What is missing is an invitation for the audience to connect to the characters and I am left wondering if this matters? Am I just old fashioned? I really struggled to want to listen to these soldiers. I didn’t feel connected to them. Was this the point? I looked at the soldiers as though they are aliens. There were moments when I was distracted by the aerobics of the women – and couldn’t pay attention to what was being said or explained. In summary, I was very distracted by much of the visual activity on stage.

My response to this production does not at all correspond with Noyes’ notes about transformation. For me this is a play about the mechanisms we use to survive boredom in the face of impending starvation and death- sex, food, exercise, story. But I’ll keep thinking about it… I’ll have to keep turning this one over in my mind and memory until I am satisfied. I will be fascinated to hear other responses as they emerge from this very theatrical experience.

I wanted to see this production primarilly because of the Letts’ fever that seems to be apparent in theatres across the world. As a part of the playwrighting zietgeist, Tracy Letts is a familiar name… and will continue to be in the coming months as Steppenwolf’s production of August: Osage County is brought into town by the STC… (not to be confused with the production by the Melbourne Theatre Company last year)… Pulitzers will do that to you, I suppose. (And don’t bother to ask Kristina Keneally about Pulitzers- she’s still trying to work out if plays are literature.) Anyway, in a country that isn’t Australia, which is The United States of America, Tracy Letts has written plays, been awarded money and prizes for them, and now is enjoying stage time at The Griffin Theatre “the home of New Australian writing.”

Like last year, Griffin Theatre Company programmed as a part of their Independent season an early play by Martin Crimp- around the same time the STC was also showing a Martin Crimp. This year it is a Tracy Letts fest, – so I decided to catch the show. It’s an interesting strategy of Griffin’s to have the independent wing introduce a writer to the general public- the earlier work of a writer, in an independent season- before they fork out the serious dollars for the STC production of the new work by the writer. A part of me finds it useful for people to see the growth of a writer- a part of me finds it irritating that there isn’t more diversity, especially when so many living Aussie Writers hunger for the space that the Griffin used to provide them with.

Regardless of all this I decided to attend- though late in the season- as I noticed that none of my aus stage writer colleagues had snaffled it. I had enjoyed Skuse’s work last year- both for TRS (Old Fitz) Ghost Stories (from the same producer Katy Alexander) and References to Salvadore Dali Make me Hot (Griffin Independent). It seems he is a director who has a reputation for actor/producers seeking him out to work with them (Circle in the Square I think have aswell- if I am correct?)- and I can see why. He seems to be able to navigate difficult stories and find great performances. In “Bug” I saw the brilliance of Jeanette Cronin – I saw her bravery- her ugly fragility- her compassion. This is not the Jeanette Cronin I have experienced on stage previously- something always felt a little lofty- and in Bug, she is earth and grit and sweat and rawness.

I have included in this version of the review a paragraph I chose to leave out of my australian stage review- mainly because of the tone change.

My reaction was though- I was not frightened or creeped out by Bug- I wasn’t psychologically scared or physically- but I was existentially scared. I felt sad for Americans. I felt sad for all of those who are desperate to feel connected to each other. I wondered if theatre goers wanted to see this descent into the world of drug-enduced psychosis- and for those of us who have seen friends or loved ones plummet into that void- what does it mean to us to see it on stage- and what does it mean to feel the horror of it in reality? What is this sketch of modern consciousness- what does it mean to society at large- once we have seen and understood this play, it’s ideas and problems- what are we to do then? Where are we? What can we do?

Letts, a native of Oklahoma, may have grown up with the chirrupy syrupy musical ending with the exclamation mark (OKLAHOMA!) but since then there was the Timothy McVeigh bombing that showed a different side to the American Mid South. There is a darkness- but it’s not the darkness of politics though the army is implicated. Bug is much more clever than that- its personal darkness- it’s wider, more universal darkness- the darkness that comes from loss, fear, anger, damage.

Perhaps this is a cautionary tale – the ad for NSW Health on the back of the programme is confirmation it seems- but what is it cautioning me against?

First published on www.australianstage.com.au

A bed in a hotel room- a watery floral pattern- inoffensive and unremarkable. Cheap polyester carpet- like that in state primary schools- carpet that behaves more like linoleum than plush carpet. The usual indicators of a usual hotel room- a chair, a bible resting inside the bedside table draws, two bedside lamps. Not much else. It feels inoffensive, as temporary things should. Transient. Characterless. A tabula rasa for its myriad of potential visitors. Except there aren’t many visitors to this hotel room- except if you count the bugs.

Agnes White (Jeanette Cronin) is drunk- drinking, smoking, struggles as she flicks off her sand shoes, wriggles out of her work clothes into clothes that could be worn by a much younger, more naive woman: a woman who has not lost a child. Punctuated by phone calls with a silent caller- possibly her incarcerated husband Jerry Goss (Jonny Pasvolsky), Agnes spends her time avoiding reality, swinging between substances: cigarettes, coffee, coke, cocaine- placidly moving through time. When a young stranger, Peter Evans (Matthew Walker) arrives – brought over by her friend RC (Catherine Terracini), all this changes. Peter, recently released from the American armed forces and without anywhere else to stay, is afforded the floral bedspread and space on the hard carpet floor. Before too long, dark, difficult secrets leak out of them both, and their stories becomes entangled in memories, conspiracy theories, paranoias and loneliness- as their world implodes- as a nest of bugs fester and itch under their skin, crawl through their pizza and overwhelm every waking minute.

Sydney audience’s are no stranger to Tracy Letts’s writing, having experienced Killer Joe directed by Iain Sinclair in Belvoir’s BSharp season in 2008- and soon, Sydney Theatre Company will be hosting Steppenwolf Theatre Company’s Tony Award winning production of August: Osage County.

The play is largely an Kafka-esque story of metamorphosis- but in this contemporary telling, we are not witnessing the lonely, singular occurrence of an individual tortured by his own existence- but a couple, who’s desperate need to connect and find comfort in that connect, find middle ground in tearing themselves apart. I don’t necessarily agree with the programme notes that Bug is “an exploration of An America gone bad – a place where you’d better look after yourself because no one else will.” I think Bug is about the chronic and debilitating loneliness that drives people to self destruct- mentally, personally, ideologically, spiritually, physically. Largely also a cautionary tale about drug use and the fragility of one’s mind and perception- Bug is about a desperate need to connect with reality (and with others). It is about our need to recover from our own personal traumas and the lengths we will go to satisfy those yearning and that need.

Rita Carmody’s set and design are clever and well utilized as a grey/beige wishy washy island. Inconjunction with the design, I particularly enjoyed Anthony Skuse’s handling of the set re-setting, violence (choreographed by Scott Witt), and the blocking of the actors, more so, than in any other production using such theatrical devises. The set is revolved and manipulated by the actors- just as they manipulate each other and orchestrate their own demise. Complimented by (at times) beautiful soft naturalistic light by Matt Cox, this is a well designed, well produced show- thoughtfully put together by Katy Alexander.

The performances are focussed, at times surprisingly robust and tender. Bug is an excellent introduction to Letts’ writing, and those who have had a chance to see this production, will be sure to find August: Osage County a richer experience for it.

Do you have your season booklets ready? Good. Now, close your eyes- and hold the brochures of both seasons in each hand… feel the covers. mmmmmm quality paper stock.
Now, still with your eyes closed- sniff gently at the opened mid page…. not too close you’ll scratch the tip of your nose on the staple.
What’s that smell? I hear you ask?
That’s the smell of “independent theatre.” I respond.

Independent has never looked so sophisticated, never felt so international! Independent Theatre is full of funky, film clips, its got glossy postcards… its got funding, and sponsors and a AV designer and its own DJ at the launches, its so cool to be independent!! Was it really that long ago that the programs for the upstairs Belvoir Shows were $6 and were printed on similar stuff that launches the indi season?

Idependent has never been so well supported/funded/groomed- which makes me think: “What is so independent about it?” Independent artists are NEVER independent- they rely on the asset of goodwill to get them over the line every show- good will of the actors, the venue, the key creatives, the flatmates of the key creatives, even for some the parents of the directors are the cornerstone of their productions, the social network of friends who dutifully head to the theatre because their friend is in the show… the businesses who invest cash/sponsorship in-kind are also giving of their money and their resources. Then there are grants and “funding” which list the key performance indicators, the budget reporting, the statistics of the impact of the arts activity on the community and the industry… the logos associated with which are everywhere- websites, postcards on everything. Favours, money, donations, reviews, resources. There is NOTHING INDEPENDENT ABOUT INDEPENDENT THEATRE.

These artists are unpaid, for the most part- at least upfront they aren’t paid- co-op and profit share deals are struck based on desperation to work and based on flattery and enthusiasm. They pitch projects to the companies hoping that they too can shelter under the wing of a larger bird- perhaps that larger bird has a rehearsal space- perhaps an artistic director who will attend the show, see their talent and offer them a paid gig on a bigger stage? Perhaps they will get better audiences- the prestige of working where other prestigious people have worked. But there is nothing prestigious about Independence- Independence in reality is the artists stretched thin on the drum of obligation to a million stakeholders. True artistic independence comes from a heap of cash. Cash which is without strings, cash which is without expectation of reciprocal deals. In fact I can’t think of a theatre company which is truly INDEPENDENT- all are not self sustainable- all run off government funding and donation. None are run just by bums-on-seats… all theatre is dependent.

For those who read Grotowski- we know theatre is dependent on an artist and audience interaction. Theatre is utterly dependent on audience- and bound by the programmers- and what they have faith in to bring an audience. The artists pitch plays to programmers (artistic directors) who then roll the idea in their mouths to see if it is to their taste, then they weigh up the likely hood of all this talk (the pitch) materialising into a piece of theatre which is quality- given the time, money and goodwill attached to the project or the participants. Then they take a punt. In their punt is also a set of Key performance indicators, criteria, board papers, stakeholders. No one is INDEPENDENT. Not even the programmers.

I think what this actually is – is not independent theatre- but freelance theatre… or contract theatre… where artists nestle under the wing of a larger bird and get some shelter and support for a short period. Where the larger bird can feel urban and cutting edge and sexy/bold/gritty free because they are associated with something which lives and operates in an uncertain, often volatile environment which is utterly dependent on EVERYONE. This mutualism is nearly parasitic- and the relationship defines the art. The independents are rarely approached- they must do the approaching. And in return the independent is hoping for space and the goodwill of the programmer. While the programmer can have their venue filled with enthusiastic grateful hopefuls- that can be paid post show and once the costs are covered.

This is not an “independent” wing of Belvoir- this is not an “independent” wing of Griffin- this is a very dependent wing.

Financial independence for an artist is for the very few- infact drama school is for the financially priviedged and supported… which implies that theatre is made, and perpetuated by and for the middle to upperclasses. If that IS the case- is our so-called independent theatre scene destined to be the playground of the priviledged (or perhaps the utterly ruthless)? What is the price of independence? What is the true cost of theatre? Who can afford it? What are you willing to sacrifice for your art(or career)? And who’s paying?

These are things I think about.