Sometimes, after a day of stress and bother, obligation and chores, you just need to see something spectacular. Sometimes you just want to witness exquiste people performing feats of strength and precision. And sometimes you want to get lost in a moment of extreme discomfort watching a man dislocate his joints in order to fit through the head of a ten-inch tennis racquet.

The Sydney Opera House – predominently respected as Australia’s premiere venues – hosting some of the world most talented singers, musicians and thinkers is currently home to a troupe of globe-trotting gypsies. Produced by La Clique (Sydney Festival favourites of yesteryear) this is show which is billed as “an ever-changing collection of some of the most outrageous, hilarious, beautiful and downright bizarre acts you will ever see.”

Comprising of cabaret, burlesque, magic, aerial, acrobatics, clowning – it is a charming night of performances – and it’s true you may get wet, and you may get fondled and you may sit peeking through your fingers, and you may be surprised. But I promise you won’t be bored.

Performed on a small elevated stage in the centre of the Opera House Studio, with audience separated out into three tiers of seating – ringside (you may need to wear a plastic sheet), posh(intimate cabaret table settings) and mezzanine (over looking the stage) – no-one is safe from the sassy interactions from the performers. As the ringmaster of this modern-day side show says at the top of the show – “this is not a sit back and fold your arms kind of show – if you like what you see, let us know!” And so begins a very festive night.

With some familiar faces/acts – and some new arrivals – La Soiree is a mix of old and new, classic and contemporary music and genre. As the blurb says:
“David O’Mer aka Bath Boy will have hearts racing as his aerial bathtub ballet teases and pleases; Captain Frodo will have you screaming with horror and laughter as you witness just what can be done with the human body; The English Gents turn the art of acro-balance into a surreal and uniquely British amusement; punked-up aerial ballet star Bret Pfister and kooky Mooky make their Sydney debuts; Ursula Martinez returns with her cult striptease act… and we welcome the singular phenomenon that is Le Gateau Chocolat for the Sydney debut of his frocktastic take on everything from pop-rock to opera.”

Thought it largely is, it’s not all shirtless men and glittering lipped performers – there is one moment that links this show with the outside world of our everyday realities – when Captain Frodo during his rubber man routine reminds us “Isn’t it interesting, what people do for a living? Perhaps this will inspire you to do the thing that you’ve always wanted to. Follow your dreams.” Of course he is sitting on a series of diminishing tin cans with his ankles wrapped around his neck as he says this. And there is a soul expanding version of Radiohead’s “Creep” by Le Gateau Chocolat.

It’s easy to surrender to the world of each performer. This is up-market entertainment… with some tickets in the $120-mark to supply you with champagne, not just rockstar lighting – this is not a quaint cabaret variety night – nor is it the grit and sawdust of travelling circus – this is slick, sexy, surprising sideshow.

Another night at the opera with James Waites… it’s a slow education. Three hours every so often, we venture into the right hand sails of the Sydney Opera House for the next lesson. Though I was once a musician in my early years, my Opera experience was limited to the occasional CD slid into my father’s CD player. My parents met at high school (in Coffs Harbour) performing in an operetta of Hansel and Gretel playing the mother and father, whilst their friend (now significant, trail-blazing Aussie folk singer Judy Small) played the witch. However – Opera is new to me (only about 3 years old) and so I consider myself a curious student. The likelihood of me directing or even reading an Opera is very minimal and so I attend as a punter, ready for the story and spectacle.

The Barber of Seville, or The Useless Precaution (Il barbiere di Siviglia, ossia L’inutile precauzione) is a comic opera in two acts – and the total experience is about 2hours, 45 minutes – which for a contemporary theatre goer is a big investment – but not as big as some operas (Mannon seemed ALOT longer from memory). This production – a remount of a production directed by Elijah Moshinsky in the mid-90s – is a fun and grand spectacle and centres around Love in all it’s fun and misadventure. Impressive sets, highly theatrical devices, likable characters (and even those you love to hate!), there’s everything one needs for an entertaining night out – bright chuckles and enthusiastic applause.

Most impressively the performances are strong in their cartoonish/vaudeville style and the design by (Michael Yeargan- Set and Dona Granata- Costume) is spectacular – a two storey house, puppets, rolling scenery, lush costumes, hats, moustaches, wigs -a complete design not only indicative of 1920s fashion, but turn of the century theatrical devices. Beautiful.

Some Operas are designed to move, some to devastate – this one is pure spectacle and entertainment. And comforting to know that after nearly 200 years, this Opera endures (beyond it’s popularization by Bugs Bunny).

My posts have been infrequent since February began- mainly because I have been busy with all things around my current production- Stories from the 428- and barely have I had time for seeing shows- let alone reflecting on line about them. In my busy schedule, which often involves seeing up to 5 theatre productions a week- and when in production as I am right now- I spend days on end computer in lap, coffee in hand, managing spreadsheets, budgets, creative imput, publicity, dramaturgy, casting the shows I am directing, reading scripts and all things related to the creation of a brand new show (or in this case a collection of shows)… rarely do I give myself permission to stop. To rest. To be filled up and nourished. And that is why, in truth, I have a Sydney Symphony subscription. This subscription is vital in my mental, spiritual growth, my understanding of the arts, my development as an artist- but above all else permission to turn off my phone, get away from my computer and surrender to the perfection of someone else’s craft- music.Tonight’s welcome surrender came in the guise of the masculine swaggering, sutlry voiced Nigel Kennedy with his virtuousic talent as the worlds most loved and respected violinist.
As a child, the floorboards of my parents humble house would hum with the sounds of music- the instruments each of us were encouraged to learn, the occasional guitar strums of my parents, the CD or record collection which defined and highlighted the contrast in my parents taste. My father with his Brandenburg Concerto’s (or Bach’s Brandenburgs I should say) and my mother with her tradtional jazz and big band standards. My brother dedicated his clarinet playing to Bach , whilst I ran away to play Ellington, Holliday and Miller with my saxophones. Music – an essential part of my life- and in the listening it fills in the corners of my life – it soothes, invigorates, seduces, inspires, enrages, consoles.

In a rare and surprising and inspired juxtaposition Nigel Kennedy brought the cultural divide in my life together in a robust and zesty collison. Daring to break with tradition- to create a set which spoke of black and white, of a history of low culture versus an history of high culture, repositioning the audience in the no-mans’s land of concert etiquette (rude to clap between movements/ and rude NOT to clap after the solos of individual musicians), Kennedy offered me tonight permission to reconcile within myself- the contrasts of my life.

Peering down from my “30 and under subscription” seats to the sea of shiny pink heads below- the glow of the lights flickered turquoise and purple, or rusty red and amber- the glare had been taken out of the light which usually bleach the stage- this isn’t any concert- this is an artist. Kennedy with casual banter re-sets the lights- at the mercy of the front row audience dazzled by light. A few jokes- a curly story or two, a few machine gun scattered expletives, some context, gentle flirtation with the orchestra’s key female players, a kicked (soccar) football kicked into the crowd- an audible gasp from the concert hall, a playful dig at the genteel folk who got their concert times wrong and arrived late, swinging from Bach to Ellington, acknowledging all in his army. Kennedy is striking, magnificent and unrelenting. His charm is that of seeing someone completely and utterly themself enjoying the act of playing music. Someone revelling in this Argus-like monster audience- and their expectation and their predictability.
Banter inbetween is subservient and unpolished- sometimes funny, often crass, repeatedly charming and always astute Kennedy’s intermittent speils contrasts the hightened excellence of his playing. The leap from the lower class tone of his voice to the elevated tone of his classical instrument is thrilling. Kennedy’s daring to be himself musically, to be himself- utterly without pretence- generous, charming, kind, playful and cheeky. He is robust and intelligent and joyful… And this is obvious I know- I really shouldn’t write things other people have already said in more eloquent ways… but what I want to point out is how normal this is.

Kennedy is unique- talent undeniable yes- but what is more unique is this honesty in the portrayal that both aspects “low” and “high” art can exist in the same person at the same time- thus drawing our attention to the affectation or the performativity of the higher class affectation. He gives us permission to indulge our lustful need for seduction (for truly music seduces us) whilst creating sound which elevates and relieves.

How lovely it is to be surprised- to be caught up in the sound from an age old instrument – to feel transported and transposed from here to another time- through the multitude of instruments represneting a composers voice. What an honour it is to hear faithful and passionate interpretations of music which has informed our culture and creatives- sounds that directly or indirectly ressonate and resound throughout our lives.

Tonight Nigel Kennedy, played the music of my childhood- and tonight I felt at peace and whole in the experience of having both simultaneously inhabiting who I am. I felt this- as the two halves of my heart-what a remarkable gift to be given. Permission to love it, to live it all with a cheeky grin and a “f**ken great” exclamation. This is just what I needed to be filled up, shaken up, inspired and reassured that whatever I am doing right now- I should do it because its who I am- there arent rules to creating (there is etiquette) but its more exciting to embrace the possibilities.

Thank you Nigel Kennedy- I hope you had fun at the Basement… catch you next time you are in Sydney.