The Dancing Orchestra. Script and music by Steven Bailey. The Acting Company at Hawk Theatre, Narrabundah College, July 23-27.
"If we hold onto the feeling, maybe we'll find our way out of the darkness" the young people said, in this quite fascinating tone poem. It brought to mind certain oft seen political faces, elected supposedly to represent the people: Yes, indeed - where have all the feelings gone?
Pragmatism is anathema to these recent and current students of Narrabundah College. The Acting Company more usually consists of ex-college students, like Steven Bailey, now at the School of Music. This time, though, it was very appropriate to have an even mix, giving the chance for the younger people to explore their need to understand the nature of the darkness and the light in a theatrical way conceived by someone just a year or two older. Rather than the more usual "workshop taken to performance level", with the inevitable surging group movement around stand-out figures seeking to tell a tale of conflict of good and evil, Bailey has produced an interesting philosophical study extending into how, or whether, art itself - in music, poetry and dance - resolves the apparent conflict.
A small very well-disciplined ensemble of piano, keyboard, percussion and strings sometimes led and sometimes accompanied the spoken modern verse representing a range of characters expressing contrasting views of reality, while two dancers commented on the action, and sometimes took the lead, using imagery in movement. The effect is modernist without being too post-modern: although there is no standard plot, there is a feeling of a quest reaching a conclusion as the three artistic elements blend together.
The key question is, "What does 'now' sound like?" It is "soft and beautiful" for the romantic young man. For the more clinically observant young woman, sitting by a stream, the conclusion is gradually reached that she sees both the stillness of her reflection and the movement of the water at the same time: this is her 'now'. There is, too, a self-serving character who cynically observes these mystical flounderings, yet cannot herself escape the need to search for understanding.
I hope Steven Bailey goes on to greater art: surely he will never encage people in razor wire. He's made a good beginning in The Dancing Orchestra.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
Monday, 29 July 2002
Friday, 19 July 2002
2002: Paipa - Exhibition at National Museum of Australia
Paipa has replaced the Alfred Haddon Collection of Torres Strait Islander treasures in the First Australians Gallery at the National Museum of Australia. In 5 sections - The Coming of the Light, Pearling/Fishing Industry, Cane Cutting Industry, World War II, and Young People and their Environment - Paipa is about the winds of change. The aim is to show how "the four directions of the wind ... drew people to and from the Torres Strait, and how the beliefs, customs and traditions of the Torres Strait Islanders have been influenced by migration and industry."
In The Coming of the Light you'll see the "Mother Hubbard" dresses, which covered women's nakedness (and became wonderful colour creations). Have a close look at an old diver's suit and imagine how claustrophobic it must have been fathoms under water - you had to bend your knees and keep your back straight to pick up the pearl shell. If you leaned forward the headpiece was so heavy you might not be able to stand up again. And what callouses your hands would have grown using the simple hooked machetes to cut tons of cane a day!
World War II relics still litter the islands, and here there are bits of planes and many photos. While modern young Islanders are as up to date in sunglasses as anywhere in Australia.
The exhibition is a deliberate shift from an anthropologist's view of Islander people to a presentation of the people's experience through their own words, photographs and iconic objects since the Rev Samuel McFarlane of the London Missionary Society introduced Christianity on 1 July 1871, a date now celebrated each year by Islanders throughout Australia.
So what should we expect from such an exhibition? A strong positive appreciation of the people's culture surviving all that was thrown in their way, I imagine.
I certainly found an accentuation on the positive achievements, but not enough about the forces which might have destroyed them. We need to know these truths.
Dawn Casey, NMA director, has done the right thing by employing an Islander, Leilani Bin-Juda, to curate the exhibit, and she has done a great job collecting materials, including people's stories. But I fear that the legacy of the old Queensland Department of Native Affairs still casts an awful shadow. We are given only snippets of the dangers of pearlshell diving and the hardships of cane cutting. So I sought more from Uncle Seaman Dan, of Darnley Island and Harry Pitt from Mackay.
From them I heard stories that should be in the exhibit. Seaman Dan told me of the pearlshell diving bank off Darnley, more than 30 fathoms down, where an unknown number of young men have been caught in the reef, in their bulbous divers' suits, while their supply boats, pushed by tides and winds, shifted beyond the reach of safety lines and air hoses. From that depth, he says, you must come up slowly, stopping to acclimatise at 5 or 6 levels. That's with your air hose attached. Father Dalton Bon from Torres Strait said at the opening last Monday that nothing happens by accident: everything is part of God's plan. Well, I wondered about such belief when I heard Seaman Dan's story.
I found that Harry Pitt has also wondered since his life as a cane cutter and merchant seaman has taken him around the world and among people of many cultures. If you leave the cane too long, he said, the molasses start oozing out. So, I asked, you get fumes or something? No, it's the bees. You go to take hold of the cane to cut it, and you get a handful of bees. Without a glove....
I showed Harry the description, quoted from someone named Jeremy Beckett, about 1947, when the pearling industry was declining and "the Department [of Native Affairs allowed] 80 men to go down to the cane fields where there was a shortage of canecutters .... The experiment was successful and repeated several years running." Their wages were paid straight into the bank, explained Harry. They could ask for a sub, say £2, but that's all they got. Harry was fortunate that his family were evacuated during the war, which was why he was brought up in Mackay. This meant he was a free man and could go contract canecutting in 1960 on the same terms as other contractors. But people who remained on the Islands, and of course other Aboriginal people like those on Palm Island, were still controlled by the infamous Department.
I thought, too, that Islander Eddie Mabo's taking on 200 years of British law, and winning, should be mentioned, and a link made to the Rights Area in the First Australians Gallery. Maybe many people feel that a museum should just be a nice place to enjoy the remains of the past, but director Dawn Casey said she is proud that "The Museum in fact is the only one which presents Torres Strait Islander culture in the national context." The exhibit has a 3 year run, so I hope more stories like Seaman Dan's and Harry Pitt's will be brought in to show us the total picture. Then we will really see the amazing resilience of Islander culture.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
In The Coming of the Light you'll see the "Mother Hubbard" dresses, which covered women's nakedness (and became wonderful colour creations). Have a close look at an old diver's suit and imagine how claustrophobic it must have been fathoms under water - you had to bend your knees and keep your back straight to pick up the pearl shell. If you leaned forward the headpiece was so heavy you might not be able to stand up again. And what callouses your hands would have grown using the simple hooked machetes to cut tons of cane a day!
World War II relics still litter the islands, and here there are bits of planes and many photos. While modern young Islanders are as up to date in sunglasses as anywhere in Australia.
The exhibition is a deliberate shift from an anthropologist's view of Islander people to a presentation of the people's experience through their own words, photographs and iconic objects since the Rev Samuel McFarlane of the London Missionary Society introduced Christianity on 1 July 1871, a date now celebrated each year by Islanders throughout Australia.
So what should we expect from such an exhibition? A strong positive appreciation of the people's culture surviving all that was thrown in their way, I imagine.
I certainly found an accentuation on the positive achievements, but not enough about the forces which might have destroyed them. We need to know these truths.
Dawn Casey, NMA director, has done the right thing by employing an Islander, Leilani Bin-Juda, to curate the exhibit, and she has done a great job collecting materials, including people's stories. But I fear that the legacy of the old Queensland Department of Native Affairs still casts an awful shadow. We are given only snippets of the dangers of pearlshell diving and the hardships of cane cutting. So I sought more from Uncle Seaman Dan, of Darnley Island and Harry Pitt from Mackay.
From them I heard stories that should be in the exhibit. Seaman Dan told me of the pearlshell diving bank off Darnley, more than 30 fathoms down, where an unknown number of young men have been caught in the reef, in their bulbous divers' suits, while their supply boats, pushed by tides and winds, shifted beyond the reach of safety lines and air hoses. From that depth, he says, you must come up slowly, stopping to acclimatise at 5 or 6 levels. That's with your air hose attached. Father Dalton Bon from Torres Strait said at the opening last Monday that nothing happens by accident: everything is part of God's plan. Well, I wondered about such belief when I heard Seaman Dan's story.
I found that Harry Pitt has also wondered since his life as a cane cutter and merchant seaman has taken him around the world and among people of many cultures. If you leave the cane too long, he said, the molasses start oozing out. So, I asked, you get fumes or something? No, it's the bees. You go to take hold of the cane to cut it, and you get a handful of bees. Without a glove....
I showed Harry the description, quoted from someone named Jeremy Beckett, about 1947, when the pearling industry was declining and "the Department [of Native Affairs allowed] 80 men to go down to the cane fields where there was a shortage of canecutters .... The experiment was successful and repeated several years running." Their wages were paid straight into the bank, explained Harry. They could ask for a sub, say £2, but that's all they got. Harry was fortunate that his family were evacuated during the war, which was why he was brought up in Mackay. This meant he was a free man and could go contract canecutting in 1960 on the same terms as other contractors. But people who remained on the Islands, and of course other Aboriginal people like those on Palm Island, were still controlled by the infamous Department.
I thought, too, that Islander Eddie Mabo's taking on 200 years of British law, and winning, should be mentioned, and a link made to the Rights Area in the First Australians Gallery. Maybe many people feel that a museum should just be a nice place to enjoy the remains of the past, but director Dawn Casey said she is proud that "The Museum in fact is the only one which presents Torres Strait Islander culture in the national context." The exhibit has a 3 year run, so I hope more stories like Seaman Dan's and Harry Pitt's will be brought in to show us the total picture. Then we will really see the amazing resilience of Islander culture.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
Wednesday, 17 July 2002
2002: Warehouse Circus
Warehouse Circus directed by Skye Morton at Belconnen Community Centre July 17-20, 7pm. Bookings 6251 4007.
If there's one thing I like to see when young people perform on stage, it's a genuine sense of enjoyment and community. Even though Warehouse Circus can only offer part-time training, it was pleasing to watch people not just going through the motions of circus exercises, but putting on an entertaining show.
Skye Morton, herself a student with Warehouse back in 1993 and a professional performer in the intervening years, demonstrated the difference between circus and gymnastics. Where gymnastics is about getting every move correct, circus is about knowing how to turn a dropped dumbbell or a fall from a balancing act into a humorous part of the show. These young performers kept up a warmth of feeling in the audience in the tradition of the great circus clowns. Each one had their own character whom we got to know well. They even built in deliberate "mistakes" as part of the comedy so that it wasn't always easy to tell if a real mistake had been made. This is excellent theatrical thinking.
I was also impressed by the originality of many of the moves, especially in the multi-person balances where there was a real sense of exploring new positions and interesting shapes. This kind of work requires a strong feeling of trust, which is the basis for the continued life of Warehouse Circus over the years since it began in 1991. In true circus tradition some families have become long-term participants, and the feast on stage after opening night was certainly a community affair.
This is not elitist theatre. It's entertainment done with sincerity - and hard work on the young people's part. Good to see.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
If there's one thing I like to see when young people perform on stage, it's a genuine sense of enjoyment and community. Even though Warehouse Circus can only offer part-time training, it was pleasing to watch people not just going through the motions of circus exercises, but putting on an entertaining show.
Skye Morton, herself a student with Warehouse back in 1993 and a professional performer in the intervening years, demonstrated the difference between circus and gymnastics. Where gymnastics is about getting every move correct, circus is about knowing how to turn a dropped dumbbell or a fall from a balancing act into a humorous part of the show. These young performers kept up a warmth of feeling in the audience in the tradition of the great circus clowns. Each one had their own character whom we got to know well. They even built in deliberate "mistakes" as part of the comedy so that it wasn't always easy to tell if a real mistake had been made. This is excellent theatrical thinking.
I was also impressed by the originality of many of the moves, especially in the multi-person balances where there was a real sense of exploring new positions and interesting shapes. This kind of work requires a strong feeling of trust, which is the basis for the continued life of Warehouse Circus over the years since it began in 1991. In true circus tradition some families have become long-term participants, and the feast on stage after opening night was certainly a community affair.
This is not elitist theatre. It's entertainment done with sincerity - and hard work on the young people's part. Good to see.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
Tuesday, 2 July 2002
2002: Odyssey by Andreas Litras and John Bolton
Odyssey created by Andreas Litras and John Bolton. Performed by Andreas Litras. Directed by John Bolton for Anthos Theatre at The Playhouse, Canberra Theatre Centre, July 2-6, 8pm.
If you are of Greek background, you must not miss this Odyssey. If your family has a migrant history, Odyssey will echo in your mind like the echoes in the giant's cave created by this excellent theatre artist, Andreas Litras. If you are an indigenous Australian, this mythic story of journey, adversity and final homecoming is a symbol of a history still seeking that necessary resolution. In other words, no-one should miss this play.
I could write a treatise about the complexity of the layers of theatrical meaning created by just one performer in 80 minutes; about the wonderful interplay between comedy and tragedy; about the history of epic storytelling represented here; about the melding of Grotowski and Brecht. Probably I would focus on the influence of the French mime Lecoq who trained John Bolton, who trained Litras to create so much with so little.
But this play doesn't need academic justification: children on opening night were fascinated, laughed and felt the power of the story of migration as much as the theatre professionals and all the wide range of people there. It was a wonderful joke for the Greek stage cleaner, who preferred tv because you can switch off what you don't like, to pick out the professional theatre-goer, sitting at the end of the row near the door, ready to do a bunk. Must be intelligent, therefore must be Greek.
– But no, said Domenic Mico, I'm Italian!
– Well, really? I think you'd better go and ask your mother!
This was serendipity, since it was Mico who had originally tried to bring the play to Canberra's Multicultural Festival, couldn't raise the funds, but did manage a one-off for the 20th Anniversary of the Migrant Resource Centre. He claims that even the Minister for Immigration and Multicultural Affairs showed an emotional response.
This play, and the photo exhibition The Sea and Foreign Lands by Simon Cuthbert, does the Canberra Theatre Centre proud. This is theatre with humour, guts and depth which everyone can appreciate - a rare diamond cut with taste and precision.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
If you are of Greek background, you must not miss this Odyssey. If your family has a migrant history, Odyssey will echo in your mind like the echoes in the giant's cave created by this excellent theatre artist, Andreas Litras. If you are an indigenous Australian, this mythic story of journey, adversity and final homecoming is a symbol of a history still seeking that necessary resolution. In other words, no-one should miss this play.
I could write a treatise about the complexity of the layers of theatrical meaning created by just one performer in 80 minutes; about the wonderful interplay between comedy and tragedy; about the history of epic storytelling represented here; about the melding of Grotowski and Brecht. Probably I would focus on the influence of the French mime Lecoq who trained John Bolton, who trained Litras to create so much with so little.
But this play doesn't need academic justification: children on opening night were fascinated, laughed and felt the power of the story of migration as much as the theatre professionals and all the wide range of people there. It was a wonderful joke for the Greek stage cleaner, who preferred tv because you can switch off what you don't like, to pick out the professional theatre-goer, sitting at the end of the row near the door, ready to do a bunk. Must be intelligent, therefore must be Greek.
– But no, said Domenic Mico, I'm Italian!
– Well, really? I think you'd better go and ask your mother!
This was serendipity, since it was Mico who had originally tried to bring the play to Canberra's Multicultural Festival, couldn't raise the funds, but did manage a one-off for the 20th Anniversary of the Migrant Resource Centre. He claims that even the Minister for Immigration and Multicultural Affairs showed an emotional response.
This play, and the photo exhibition The Sea and Foreign Lands by Simon Cuthbert, does the Canberra Theatre Centre proud. This is theatre with humour, guts and depth which everyone can appreciate - a rare diamond cut with taste and precision.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)