A Tribute to Black by Tara Mocktari. 19th Hole Theatre Productions at Tuggeranong Community Arts Centre January 30 - February 2, 7.30pm.
Canberra's colleges' drama programs continue to spawn intelligent and interesting little theatre groups among their ex-students, some of which - like Project Theatre 20 years ago - briefly flare and fizz, while some - such as the Acting Company - seem to become part of the furniture. This is the second production of 19th Hole, who are mainly from Canberra College, Woden Campus: a group of actors, technicians and musicians now mostly students at uni, but who still give thanks to their previous teachers, including Richard Manning.
Talking to Manning, himself a product of Hawker College in the late 1970s, made me aware of this theatrical niche, different from Youth Theatre, or REP, or the amateur groups like Phoenix Players, or being in the ANU Theatre course; and different of course from professional training courses away from Canberra. These are brave young people, like Bohemian Productions reviewed last week and still showing at The Street, who raise their own funds, manage their own affairs and take real risks to present work they feel is worthwhile.
Mocktari's play explores a philosophical idea - that black, being the absence of colour, represents the space in the universe which is open to infinite possibilities; and that love is the energy which can play upon the negatives, our usual experience of the black in our lives, and help us find the positives. She writes in her program notes of "the beautiful blackness that surrounds each of [the characters'] lives and brings matters to terms at their own pace".
The work combines an excellent live band, Crevona, with video, recorded soundscape, separated spotlighting of action in the audience space as well as on stage, and a mix of performance styles - largely presentational, but with some direct address, some more expressionist, snippets of apparent naturalism, and even a very funny cabaret dance routine. There are also drama workshop nightmare figures with uv lighted white masks a la Phillipe Genty.
This could be a fragmented mess, but gradually things defrag in a quite moving way. A worthwhile project indeed.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
Thursday, 31 January 2002
Wednesday, 23 January 2002
2002: Bonesyard by Stuart Roberts and One For The Road by Harold Pinter
Bonesyard by Stuart Roberts and One For The Road by Harold Pinter. Bohemian Productions directed by Nick Johnson, at The Street Theatre Studio. January 23 - February 2, Wednesday to Saturday, 8pm.
"We want you to leave this play feeling raw and hateful, as if you've peeled a scab prematurely" is an invitation sorely missed in most evenings at the theatre. Being an "innovative young theatre company" makes such demands an obligation on company and audience, perhaps, but I'm not sure that Bonesyard came up to scratch.
On the other hand, Pinter's masterful theatre of menace in One For The Road - with all its overtones for politics from our Minister for Immigration's wonderful twisting of the Woomera reality in absolutely legalistic terms to all the extremities of absolutist autocrats like Suharto, the Taliban, Pol Pot, Saddam and many others (you can decide where to place Saudi Arabia, Israel, Yasser Arafat or George Bush on this sliding scale) - lived up to the promise. George Huitker as Nicolas, the interrogator, nicely underplayed the role, exactly as real interrogators do and we certainly felt raw and hateful in sympathy with Victor (Arran McKenna), his wife Gila (Claire Bocking) and son Nicky (Simon Read).
In Bonesyard, only Gina Guirguis spoke with the clarity of diction the script needed - and created a well-rounded character - while the three men (David Finnigan as Will, Jack Lloyd as Ferguson and Ben Hamey as Parker) need to develop precision in their acting.
The script is a quite interesting idea - a rather ghoulish fascination with people being murdered and their bodies being sold for medical experimentation, Mary the whore being the unwitting victim on this occasion who realises what is happening only after she has been poisoned and it is too late. Ferguson the surgeon is the ringleader, in a setting that seemed to be England 200 years ago. The script probably needs tightening, cf Pinter, but the presentation of the male characters also needed better direction.
It's good to see groups like Bohemians take the theatrical reins into their own hands, but I look forward to their writing a program which avoids weak "humour": it diminishes the work they present on stage, especially Pinter.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
"We want you to leave this play feeling raw and hateful, as if you've peeled a scab prematurely" is an invitation sorely missed in most evenings at the theatre. Being an "innovative young theatre company" makes such demands an obligation on company and audience, perhaps, but I'm not sure that Bonesyard came up to scratch.
On the other hand, Pinter's masterful theatre of menace in One For The Road - with all its overtones for politics from our Minister for Immigration's wonderful twisting of the Woomera reality in absolutely legalistic terms to all the extremities of absolutist autocrats like Suharto, the Taliban, Pol Pot, Saddam and many others (you can decide where to place Saudi Arabia, Israel, Yasser Arafat or George Bush on this sliding scale) - lived up to the promise. George Huitker as Nicolas, the interrogator, nicely underplayed the role, exactly as real interrogators do and we certainly felt raw and hateful in sympathy with Victor (Arran McKenna), his wife Gila (Claire Bocking) and son Nicky (Simon Read).
In Bonesyard, only Gina Guirguis spoke with the clarity of diction the script needed - and created a well-rounded character - while the three men (David Finnigan as Will, Jack Lloyd as Ferguson and Ben Hamey as Parker) need to develop precision in their acting.
The script is a quite interesting idea - a rather ghoulish fascination with people being murdered and their bodies being sold for medical experimentation, Mary the whore being the unwitting victim on this occasion who realises what is happening only after she has been poisoned and it is too late. Ferguson the surgeon is the ringleader, in a setting that seemed to be England 200 years ago. The script probably needs tightening, cf Pinter, but the presentation of the male characters also needed better direction.
It's good to see groups like Bohemians take the theatrical reins into their own hands, but I look forward to their writing a program which avoids weak "humour": it diminishes the work they present on stage, especially Pinter.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
Friday, 18 January 2002
2002: Oliver! by Lionel Bart
Oliver! by Lionel Bart. Alpha Theatre directed by Cathie Clelland. Choreographer: Belynda Buck. Musical Director: Pam Connor. ANU Arts Centre January 18 - 27, 7pm.
Probably I was the only person at opening night over the age of 10 who had never seen Oliver!, though I knew all the songs out of context. In context, some seemed a bit odd, and I faced the question about how turning Dickens into a musical makes his stories of social class division even more sentimental than his original novels. Like Dickens, Bart knew he had to keep up the entertainment level, so it was hard to feel the depth of anger we should at Nancy's murder.
However, Clelland's direction achieved perhaps as much as the script allows. Her casting was excellent, especially of Jordan Prosser as Oliver, Linda Francis as Nancy, Tony Falla as Fagin and, in a small but effective role, Anna Wise as Mrs Bedwin. Musicality in their singing and clarity in their acting stood out in these performers, but there was also great strength in chorus and smaller singing roles, coming together particularly well in "Who Will Buy?"
Obviously an important feature of a musical is the quality of the orchestra which Pam Connor directed with energy and strong rhythmic effect, carrying the action along on stage. All sections of the orchestra sounded good, except for some lack of tuning in the strings. However, John Ma's solo violin for Fagin's reconsidering of his situation was spot on.
Good music without movement would still make a fatally flawed show, and Belynda Buck missed no opportunities to choreograph every head and arm gesture, with lots of group and individual dance steps which, though they looked to me more colonial than mid-nineteenth century London, kept my attention throughout. Especially impressive was how the younger children enjoyed their movement, every one thoroughly engaged in the performance. In Brian Sudding and Cherylynn Holmes' excellent set, and wearing Rosemary Synnott's thoroughly colourful costumes, all the set-piece numbers received justified applause.
An effective Alpha production, the show gained strength in the second half. Everyone clapped along with the curtain call reprises - but I still kept wondering why Nancy had ever loved Bill Sykes.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
Probably I was the only person at opening night over the age of 10 who had never seen Oliver!, though I knew all the songs out of context. In context, some seemed a bit odd, and I faced the question about how turning Dickens into a musical makes his stories of social class division even more sentimental than his original novels. Like Dickens, Bart knew he had to keep up the entertainment level, so it was hard to feel the depth of anger we should at Nancy's murder.
However, Clelland's direction achieved perhaps as much as the script allows. Her casting was excellent, especially of Jordan Prosser as Oliver, Linda Francis as Nancy, Tony Falla as Fagin and, in a small but effective role, Anna Wise as Mrs Bedwin. Musicality in their singing and clarity in their acting stood out in these performers, but there was also great strength in chorus and smaller singing roles, coming together particularly well in "Who Will Buy?"
Obviously an important feature of a musical is the quality of the orchestra which Pam Connor directed with energy and strong rhythmic effect, carrying the action along on stage. All sections of the orchestra sounded good, except for some lack of tuning in the strings. However, John Ma's solo violin for Fagin's reconsidering of his situation was spot on.
Good music without movement would still make a fatally flawed show, and Belynda Buck missed no opportunities to choreograph every head and arm gesture, with lots of group and individual dance steps which, though they looked to me more colonial than mid-nineteenth century London, kept my attention throughout. Especially impressive was how the younger children enjoyed their movement, every one thoroughly engaged in the performance. In Brian Sudding and Cherylynn Holmes' excellent set, and wearing Rosemary Synnott's thoroughly colourful costumes, all the set-piece numbers received justified applause.
An effective Alpha production, the show gained strength in the second half. Everyone clapped along with the curtain call reprises - but I still kept wondering why Nancy had ever loved Bill Sykes.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
Wednesday, 16 January 2002
2002: The Price by Arthur Miller
The Price by Arthur Miller. Daniel Mitchell, Toni Scanlan, Warren Mitchell, Henri Szeps directed by Sandra Bates. Ensemble Theatre, Sydney, November 8 2001 - January 19.
If you assumed that any play at the Ensemble starring this cast would be a near-perfect production, you'd be right. I squeezed in to the matinee in the last week of the run, and arrived to a justifiable "House Full" sign - through to closing night.
To say The Price is classic Arthur Miller is to dismiss too easily his creation of characters whose complexity is rooted in both their natural personality differences and their familial relationships. To see Henri Szeps as elder brother Walter in tears of apparent self-recognition, frustrated at not being able to explain to younger brother Victor why he hadn't provided the cash for Victor's university education, despite his own success as a surgeon, while he had to admit to failure as a father and husband - and to see this a few short metres away in the intimate Ensemble setting - is an unforgettable experience.
Though Hayes Gordon, the founder of the Ensemble, is no longer with us, his exacting theatrical spirit lives on. Since he introduced in-the-round staging to Sydney more than 30 years ago, the fly-on-the-wall effect for the audience is still as strong. Watching invisibly in such close proximity creates a fascinating double-effect: your emotions are directly engaged in Walter's tears, yet concurrently your capacity for objective observation is not diminished. Walter's tears may be real, yet are also disingenuous: he can only offer Victor a superficial, basically commercial, proposition - a measure of why he failed Victor in the first place 28 years in the past.
Sandra Bates' direction has allowed the actors all the silences they need for us to sense and contemplate such detail in all four characters, and all four actors waste no opportunity. I wish, I wish, we had an Australian Arthur Miller to reveal such characters in our cultural context, but I fear our fascination with "physical" theatre (which I love too) leaves a space to be filled. It's not just warmth of feeling we miss, but the analysis of family, social, political and economic relations which are all built in to Miller's characters.
Did I say a "near-perfect" production? Let's just say perfect and be done with it.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
If you assumed that any play at the Ensemble starring this cast would be a near-perfect production, you'd be right. I squeezed in to the matinee in the last week of the run, and arrived to a justifiable "House Full" sign - through to closing night.
To say The Price is classic Arthur Miller is to dismiss too easily his creation of characters whose complexity is rooted in both their natural personality differences and their familial relationships. To see Henri Szeps as elder brother Walter in tears of apparent self-recognition, frustrated at not being able to explain to younger brother Victor why he hadn't provided the cash for Victor's university education, despite his own success as a surgeon, while he had to admit to failure as a father and husband - and to see this a few short metres away in the intimate Ensemble setting - is an unforgettable experience.
Though Hayes Gordon, the founder of the Ensemble, is no longer with us, his exacting theatrical spirit lives on. Since he introduced in-the-round staging to Sydney more than 30 years ago, the fly-on-the-wall effect for the audience is still as strong. Watching invisibly in such close proximity creates a fascinating double-effect: your emotions are directly engaged in Walter's tears, yet concurrently your capacity for objective observation is not diminished. Walter's tears may be real, yet are also disingenuous: he can only offer Victor a superficial, basically commercial, proposition - a measure of why he failed Victor in the first place 28 years in the past.
Sandra Bates' direction has allowed the actors all the silences they need for us to sense and contemplate such detail in all four characters, and all four actors waste no opportunity. I wish, I wish, we had an Australian Arthur Miller to reveal such characters in our cultural context, but I fear our fascination with "physical" theatre (which I love too) leaves a space to be filled. It's not just warmth of feeling we miss, but the analysis of family, social, political and economic relations which are all built in to Miller's characters.
Did I say a "near-perfect" production? Let's just say perfect and be done with it.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
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