Rhythms of Mother Earth - Classical Indian and Contemporary Dance presented by the Australian Tamil Foundation Canberra for Canberra National Multicultural Festival. ANU Arts Centre March 20, 1999.
The ATFC has done multiculturalism, the Indian community and the broader Australian community a valuable service in asking three companies to make dances in response to the theme Rhythms of Mother Earth. A new blending of classical Indian and contemporary styles was presented, as migrants from India and SE Asia come to terms with the Australian landscape while descendants of European migrants discover the power of the Indian dance language.
Bharatam Dance Company (Melbourne) presented a strongly focussed Bhumanjali - Homage to Mother Earth, choreographed and performed by Thamilvanan Veshnu under the direction of Dr Chandrabhanu, who after 25 years has clearly established a major inspirational role. This work shows why. Beginning in classical style to represent the Earth as Goddess, and progressing through stages towards an international "modern" style, representing Earth as Mystery and finally as Destruction, the Hindu understanding of the universe is brought to bear on present-day reality. The mystery and beauty of Australia, evoked in a rhythmic soundscape of bird calls, does not survive in this tragic view.
Tara Rajkumar, researcher and teacher at Monash University - instrumental in reviving the softer Mohinattam classical dance style and popularising the more theatrical form of Kathakali - presented Natya Sudha Dance Company performers Nithya Gopu (as Kali, Mother of the Universe), Prathayana Chandrakumar (an excellent Kathakali drama of Bhima in the Forest) and Tatayana Pozar-Burgar with Nithya Gopu (a contemporary style view of woman as Prakrithi - cosmic energy that is infinite, positive and feminine). For me the classical forms were much more successful than the modern from this company.
From Sydney, Lingalayam Dance Company Director Anandavalli opened the evening with an impressive secular invocation to Bhumadevi - Mother Earth. Earth, Water, Fire and Wind were brought together in a Space full of vibrant energy.
Inspired by Anandavalli, Canberrans Jenny White presented her Orbital Fracture and Niki Shepherd her Resounding Rhythms. Both smoothly blended classical and modern forms: White's piece a clear and pure abstraction on the moment of decisive silence; Shepherd's solo a dramatic mix of Greek myth and Hindu expression. A satisfying and fascinating evening.
©Frank McKone, Canberra
Sunday, 21 March 1999
Friday, 19 March 1999
1999: Dormez, Je Le Veux by Georges Feydeau
Dormez, Je Le Veux by Georges Feydeau. Melbourne French Theatre directed by Michael Bula at Belconnen Community Centre. March 19, 1999, 8pm and 20 at 2pm.
La Francophonie is an association of 48 French-speaking countries from 5 continents - from Belgium to Vietnam, Nigeria to Canada, Egypt to France itself. For World Francophonie Day, as part of Canberra National Multicultural Festival, Feydeau's Belle-Epoque farce was an interesting choice.
Michael Bula's direction, and performance of man-about-town Boriquet, showed class befitting the French mime tradition and its historical links to commedia dell'arte. Clearly everyone in the cast - with special mention of the two valets, Justin (Eddy Fatha) and the Belgian accented Eloi (Dominique Gibert) - understood the style and played it for all their worth. It's a pity that there could be only 2 performances in Canberra.
Indeed, I'd go again to see Frederique Fouche, as Boriquet's sister Francine, playing Carmen under hypnosis, with her brother - also hypnotised -acting as a monkey. No wonder Dr Valencourt (Nicholas Panayotis) and his daughter Emilienne (Catherine Pierce) thought them mad, until the Doctor realised that Justin was the hypnotist - and so it was safe for Emilienne to marry Boriquet after all.
It was also appropriate to humiliate Justin by making him say, under hypnosis, "Je suis miserable". In a final twist of farce, Justin was only pretending to be hypnotised: after the upper class people have exited, he raises his fists to declare with great pride, "Je suis miserable". From Bula's notes about giving the play "bite" and emphasising the socio-political context, I guess this is a reference to Hugo and Les Miserables. The problem is that this servant is actually celebrating his continued employment as a servant: Feydeau confirmed the upper classes in their rightful place - no emancipation here.
Feydeau's essential conservatism, clothed in such good humour, makes an interesting comment not just on French society of the fin de (last) siecle but on La Francophonie at the end of this century: not all the old colonies have quite risen to full independence, and it was a bitter struggle for many who have.
Melbourne French Theatre have presented Anhouilh and Sartre in Canberra before: this production reminds us of the diversity within French culture. An interesting choice.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
La Francophonie is an association of 48 French-speaking countries from 5 continents - from Belgium to Vietnam, Nigeria to Canada, Egypt to France itself. For World Francophonie Day, as part of Canberra National Multicultural Festival, Feydeau's Belle-Epoque farce was an interesting choice.
Michael Bula's direction, and performance of man-about-town Boriquet, showed class befitting the French mime tradition and its historical links to commedia dell'arte. Clearly everyone in the cast - with special mention of the two valets, Justin (Eddy Fatha) and the Belgian accented Eloi (Dominique Gibert) - understood the style and played it for all their worth. It's a pity that there could be only 2 performances in Canberra.
Indeed, I'd go again to see Frederique Fouche, as Boriquet's sister Francine, playing Carmen under hypnosis, with her brother - also hypnotised -acting as a monkey. No wonder Dr Valencourt (Nicholas Panayotis) and his daughter Emilienne (Catherine Pierce) thought them mad, until the Doctor realised that Justin was the hypnotist - and so it was safe for Emilienne to marry Boriquet after all.
It was also appropriate to humiliate Justin by making him say, under hypnosis, "Je suis miserable". In a final twist of farce, Justin was only pretending to be hypnotised: after the upper class people have exited, he raises his fists to declare with great pride, "Je suis miserable". From Bula's notes about giving the play "bite" and emphasising the socio-political context, I guess this is a reference to Hugo and Les Miserables. The problem is that this servant is actually celebrating his continued employment as a servant: Feydeau confirmed the upper classes in their rightful place - no emancipation here.
Feydeau's essential conservatism, clothed in such good humour, makes an interesting comment not just on French society of the fin de (last) siecle but on La Francophonie at the end of this century: not all the old colonies have quite risen to full independence, and it was a bitter struggle for many who have.
Melbourne French Theatre have presented Anhouilh and Sartre in Canberra before: this production reminds us of the diversity within French culture. An interesting choice.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
Wednesday, 17 March 1999
1999: What Do They Call Me? by Eva Johnson
What Do They Call Me? by Eva Johnson. Canice Productions: performed and directed by Marie Andrews. National Multicultural Festival at The Street Theatre Studio 7.30pm March 17-20, 1999..
It is a great joy and privilege to experience a writer and performer at one with their traditions, their style, their themes and their audience. Make sure you don't miss this short, significant piece of theatre.
Marie Andrews, a Bardi woman and lawyer from Broome, is surely a Kimberley diamond, reflecting brilliantly the three characters of the mother Connie and her two daughters: Regina, taken by "Welfare" and brought up in a middle-class foster family; and Alison, both proud of her Aboriginality and her self-determined role as a lesbian activist.
Connie is in jail on trumped up charges of "abusing the language" - "Can't even swear in my own country," she says. Regina cannot hate her white "mother" who can't accept that her properly married "daughter" finds after 30 years that she must meet and identify with her real mother Connie. Alison, a sophisticated naif, works her intelligence to maintain her relationship with white feminist Sara, while bravely facing her mother with the truth of her sexual orientation.
Eva Johnson, the Malak Malak woman from Daly Waters whom many of us may remember performing in Women of the Sun, has turned playwright and teaches drama in Adelaide. What Do They Call Me? is 10 years old, written before the Stolen Generation report. It is partly autobiographical, and uses the ancient storytelling form with minimal but absolutely effective costume and light changes. Andrews, who was Company Manager for the tour in 1994 of her cousin Jimmy Chi's Bran Nue Day, is entirely at home as director and performer - and as herself in an open forum with the audience to finish the evening.
"I see this as a healing process between indigenous and white people, and hope that we can move forward as a whole people," says Andrews. Canice Cox, whose mother was Aboriginal and father was the white policeman at Fitzroy Crossing, and who married Japanese pearl diver James Ishiguchi, was Andrews' adoptive grandmother. Her name is honoured in Canice Productions. She believes it's this multicultural Kimberley history which fires creativity not to be missed.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
It is a great joy and privilege to experience a writer and performer at one with their traditions, their style, their themes and their audience. Make sure you don't miss this short, significant piece of theatre.
Marie Andrews, a Bardi woman and lawyer from Broome, is surely a Kimberley diamond, reflecting brilliantly the three characters of the mother Connie and her two daughters: Regina, taken by "Welfare" and brought up in a middle-class foster family; and Alison, both proud of her Aboriginality and her self-determined role as a lesbian activist.
Connie is in jail on trumped up charges of "abusing the language" - "Can't even swear in my own country," she says. Regina cannot hate her white "mother" who can't accept that her properly married "daughter" finds after 30 years that she must meet and identify with her real mother Connie. Alison, a sophisticated naif, works her intelligence to maintain her relationship with white feminist Sara, while bravely facing her mother with the truth of her sexual orientation.
Eva Johnson, the Malak Malak woman from Daly Waters whom many of us may remember performing in Women of the Sun, has turned playwright and teaches drama in Adelaide. What Do They Call Me? is 10 years old, written before the Stolen Generation report. It is partly autobiographical, and uses the ancient storytelling form with minimal but absolutely effective costume and light changes. Andrews, who was Company Manager for the tour in 1994 of her cousin Jimmy Chi's Bran Nue Day, is entirely at home as director and performer - and as herself in an open forum with the audience to finish the evening.
"I see this as a healing process between indigenous and white people, and hope that we can move forward as a whole people," says Andrews. Canice Cox, whose mother was Aboriginal and father was the white policeman at Fitzroy Crossing, and who married Japanese pearl diver James Ishiguchi, was Andrews' adoptive grandmother. Her name is honoured in Canice Productions. She believes it's this multicultural Kimberley history which fires creativity not to be missed.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
Wednesday, 10 March 1999
1999: Grushenka adapted by Rodney Fisher
Grushenka adapted by Rodney Fisher from F.Dostoyevski's novel The Brothers Karamazov. Kropka Theatre: solo performer Jolanta Juszkiewicz directed by Rodney Fisher. Canberra National Multicultural Festival at The Street Theatre Studio March 10-13, 1999, 7.30pm.
In this brief 30 minute etude polonaise, Polish actress Jolanta Juszkiewicz plays on the white keys of anger and the black keys of despair with equal precision, but I found that Rodney Fisher's attempt to encapsulate Dostoyevski's character Grushenka fails to match the drama of a Chopin study.
Without the full context of the novel and without Dostoyevski's objective slightly sardonic authorial tone, this snippet of Grushenka's conflicted feelings as she waits to face again the man who has seduced her - Does she love him? Or might she kill him? - leaves not only her situation unresolved, but ours in the audience as well. We wanted to thank the performer for her undoubtedly sincere and skilful effort, yet hesitated because the script did not give us a frame for clearly understanding the picture of this woman.
If Chopin's etudes are complete within themselves, then this script seems to need an image of Dostoyevski watching his misogynist creation with the contempt that one imagines he had for his real-life admirer Apollinaria Suslova, who refused to accept that "Women have but one calling in life - to be housewives and mothers." This would give us a context within which we could see the relevance of presenting Grushenka. Reading matter in the program cannot replace the necessary theatrical device.
Mind you, the crowd in The Street foyer waiting to go into the main theatre meant Juszkiewicz and her audience had to cope with considerable background noise - not conducive to such intimate theatre. The acting held me, nevertheless (but bright spotlights on the audience before and after the performance were a serious distraction). Re-read The Brothers Karamazov today, then go to see this meticulously presented character study by Kropka Theatre.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
In this brief 30 minute etude polonaise, Polish actress Jolanta Juszkiewicz plays on the white keys of anger and the black keys of despair with equal precision, but I found that Rodney Fisher's attempt to encapsulate Dostoyevski's character Grushenka fails to match the drama of a Chopin study.
Without the full context of the novel and without Dostoyevski's objective slightly sardonic authorial tone, this snippet of Grushenka's conflicted feelings as she waits to face again the man who has seduced her - Does she love him? Or might she kill him? - leaves not only her situation unresolved, but ours in the audience as well. We wanted to thank the performer for her undoubtedly sincere and skilful effort, yet hesitated because the script did not give us a frame for clearly understanding the picture of this woman.
If Chopin's etudes are complete within themselves, then this script seems to need an image of Dostoyevski watching his misogynist creation with the contempt that one imagines he had for his real-life admirer Apollinaria Suslova, who refused to accept that "Women have but one calling in life - to be housewives and mothers." This would give us a context within which we could see the relevance of presenting Grushenka. Reading matter in the program cannot replace the necessary theatrical device.
Mind you, the crowd in The Street foyer waiting to go into the main theatre meant Juszkiewicz and her audience had to cope with considerable background noise - not conducive to such intimate theatre. The acting held me, nevertheless (but bright spotlights on the audience before and after the performance were a serious distraction). Re-read The Brothers Karamazov today, then go to see this meticulously presented character study by Kropka Theatre.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
Saturday, 6 March 1999
1999: Time of My Life by Alan Ayckbourn
Time of My Life by Alan Ayckbourn. Canberra Repertory directed by Corille Fraser at Theatre 3, March 5-27, 1999, Wed to Sat 8pm.
This is English middle class comedy about upward and downward mobility hung on a hallstand peg, next to the wet mackintoshes, labelled "Let's make fun of marriage." And, it is true, several members of the opening night glitterati recognised certain infidelities, brazen affairs, new-found boldness and admissions of failure among the usual Ayckbourn misunderstandings, some drunkenness and chucking up, financial mismanagement, lateness for lunch and several dogs, generally linked together by a series of incomprehensibly funny foreign (i.e. not British) waiters.
I'm going to have to praise all three men - Ian Carcary(Gerry, the father), Duncan Ley (elder son Glyn) and Luke Cutting (younger son Adam) - for effectively playing the straight men for the even more praiseworthy women - Jenny Ongley-Houston (Laura, the mother), Melissa Planten (Stephanie, married to Glyn) and Fiona Gregory (not married to Adam). Though the first act took some warming up on opening night, the second moved along with the women's development as characters.
And the five waiters played by David Bennett, Bevan Tiddent, Teddi van Bent, Dettev Bandin and Dave Tendbint deserve mention not only for their accents, but their romantic singing and rhythmic dance, and silver service hospitality.
Don't expect anything deep from Ayckbourn. His couple of attempts at pathos drown somewhere in a watery bathysphere. But at least his is a well-made play which starts in the middle, stretches out in opposite directions and ends where it began. And though one unnamable critic claimed that he slept through the first half, and one woman driver left her several passengers to find their own way home after interval, most of the audience laughed at lots of deliberately exaggerated severely prejudicial attitudes - including me.
Of course, it would be condescending of me to say that this is the sort of play that Repertory ought to be doing - since none of the professionals would touch it - but surely there has to be a place for a relaxing insignificant night of laughter after a hard and serious day's work in academia, consultancy and politics. Bob McMullan thought so - I saw him there - so why shouldn't you?
© Frank McKone, Canberra
This is English middle class comedy about upward and downward mobility hung on a hallstand peg, next to the wet mackintoshes, labelled "Let's make fun of marriage." And, it is true, several members of the opening night glitterati recognised certain infidelities, brazen affairs, new-found boldness and admissions of failure among the usual Ayckbourn misunderstandings, some drunkenness and chucking up, financial mismanagement, lateness for lunch and several dogs, generally linked together by a series of incomprehensibly funny foreign (i.e. not British) waiters.
I'm going to have to praise all three men - Ian Carcary(Gerry, the father), Duncan Ley (elder son Glyn) and Luke Cutting (younger son Adam) - for effectively playing the straight men for the even more praiseworthy women - Jenny Ongley-Houston (Laura, the mother), Melissa Planten (Stephanie, married to Glyn) and Fiona Gregory (not married to Adam). Though the first act took some warming up on opening night, the second moved along with the women's development as characters.
And the five waiters played by David Bennett, Bevan Tiddent, Teddi van Bent, Dettev Bandin and Dave Tendbint deserve mention not only for their accents, but their romantic singing and rhythmic dance, and silver service hospitality.
Don't expect anything deep from Ayckbourn. His couple of attempts at pathos drown somewhere in a watery bathysphere. But at least his is a well-made play which starts in the middle, stretches out in opposite directions and ends where it began. And though one unnamable critic claimed that he slept through the first half, and one woman driver left her several passengers to find their own way home after interval, most of the audience laughed at lots of deliberately exaggerated severely prejudicial attitudes - including me.
Of course, it would be condescending of me to say that this is the sort of play that Repertory ought to be doing - since none of the professionals would touch it - but surely there has to be a place for a relaxing insignificant night of laughter after a hard and serious day's work in academia, consultancy and politics. Bob McMullan thought so - I saw him there - so why shouldn't you?
© Frank McKone, Canberra
Thursday, 4 March 1999
1999: Patapumfete by Dario Fo
Patapumfete by Dario Fo. Performed by Alfredo Colombaioni and Stefano Di Pietro. Canberra National Multicultural Festival at ANU Arts Centre March 4-5, 1999.
"If they had combined it with something to eat and drink, I think more would have turned up," said one of the seven members of the audience on opening night. I guess there's an irony in that idea which Dario Fo would appreciate.
Colombaioni and Di Pietro are experts in Fo's style of theatre, combining circus clowning and modernised commedia dell'arte with social criticism - surrealist theatre for the working class. Clowns begin with improvised patter, bouncing banter back and forth. Once the audience has warmed to the satirical humour - I was accused as The Canberra Times critic of not doing my job properly because I my notebook was too small - several short humorous skits were performed, each with a twisted barb.
The least absurd was one character moralising at another who is pleasantly and harmlessly drinking wine and having an occasional quiet cigarette. It soon transpires that the accuser pops headache pills at the first sign of tension (most of which is caused by his moral concern at the other's behaviour). The accuser goes on to stronger drugs, finally stabbing himself with a huge syringe in all sorts of inappropriate places. He dies, while the drinker leaves him to his self-imposed fate and wanders happily away.
Non-violence and robot assembly lines receive a similarly ironic treatment.
A science fiction piece which starts with one actor as an alien machine while the other is proud to be the only human who can save the earth turned into a truly absurd clown style water squirting session, which seems to reach a point of reconciliation destroyed by one last squirted betrayal.
Spoken in Italian, with a minimal amount of translation into English, and mimed exquisitely, Fo's work makes its points and is a cultural artefact worthy of this Festival. But eating and drinking could have helped, like the lady said.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
"If they had combined it with something to eat and drink, I think more would have turned up," said one of the seven members of the audience on opening night. I guess there's an irony in that idea which Dario Fo would appreciate.
Colombaioni and Di Pietro are experts in Fo's style of theatre, combining circus clowning and modernised commedia dell'arte with social criticism - surrealist theatre for the working class. Clowns begin with improvised patter, bouncing banter back and forth. Once the audience has warmed to the satirical humour - I was accused as The Canberra Times critic of not doing my job properly because I my notebook was too small - several short humorous skits were performed, each with a twisted barb.
The least absurd was one character moralising at another who is pleasantly and harmlessly drinking wine and having an occasional quiet cigarette. It soon transpires that the accuser pops headache pills at the first sign of tension (most of which is caused by his moral concern at the other's behaviour). The accuser goes on to stronger drugs, finally stabbing himself with a huge syringe in all sorts of inappropriate places. He dies, while the drinker leaves him to his self-imposed fate and wanders happily away.
Non-violence and robot assembly lines receive a similarly ironic treatment.
A science fiction piece which starts with one actor as an alien machine while the other is proud to be the only human who can save the earth turned into a truly absurd clown style water squirting session, which seems to reach a point of reconciliation destroyed by one last squirted betrayal.
Spoken in Italian, with a minimal amount of translation into English, and mimed exquisitely, Fo's work makes its points and is a cultural artefact worthy of this Festival. But eating and drinking could have helped, like the lady said.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
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