Berlin Cabaret of Desire conceived by Paul Barrett, John Verryt and Jennifer Ward-Lealand of Silo Theatre, Auckland. Directed by Naomi Brouwer at The Street Theatre, April 11-12, 15-19, 22-26, 2008, at 8pm, Matinees: 13 & 20 April at 4pm.
Bookings: 6247 1223 or online www.thestreet.org.au
Silo Theatre has an established program dedicated to presenting what I might call Art Theatre. The nearest equivalent in Sydney might be Belvoir B. The Street Theatre has a program made up by collecting all sorts of productions for a wide range of audiences. This presentation of Berlin Cabaret of Desire is a brave attempt, reasonably successful, but unable to match the quality required by the material.
Prior publicity gave the impression that we would experience the “lust and anarchy of the Weimar Republic”, but the show consists of songs by Mischa Spoliansky, Frederick Hollander and Kurt Weill whose work focussed on biting political satire, some of which originally appeared in Berlin cabarets in the 1920s and 1930s, while much of Weill’s work was written for plays by Bertolt Brecht. Of the three singers, Stephen Anderson was the most consistent, Justine Campbell succeeded in the lighter comedy, while both Campbell and Ruth Rogers-Wright struggled, though sincerely, with the more difficult Weill material in particular.
The band was rarely able to produce the gutsy harshness of tone and rhythm which Weill requires, being rather too smooth and sonorous, though the music certainly held the show together, and its leader Tim Hansen on piano made a successful MC.
The result overall was enjoyable, while the aerial acrobatic performances by Tyler Ayres were exciting. Even though it was not clear why these were included, Ayres’ fluidity of movement and demanding choreography focussed attention and justifiably received the most applause. The other highlights, in my view, were the song of hypocrisy and democracy - Hollander’s Oh How We Wish That We Were Kids Again - and the beautifully sung but by now ironic ending, Die Lorelei.
©Frank McKone, Canberra
Saturday, 12 April 2008
Friday, 4 April 2008
2008: Chloe Dallimore in Cabaret
Chloe Dallimore in Cabaret with David Cashman on piano. Teatro Vivaldi dinner and show, April 4-5, 2008.
Cuisine - exciting; entertainment - dull. Go for the dinner, not for the show.
My title would be Stagestruck – The Musical. Plot consists of random name-dropping anecdotes (Patrick Swayze, Liza Minelli etc. etc. etc.), regular reminders that Chloe goes to New York, details of David’s car deodorant.
Action consists of incy-wincy spider type arm movements, with occasional whole body shimmers – sexy or funny (or superficially titillating) according to your taste. Dallimore’s voice in low register is strong for easy listening, but at big stage volume and high pitch in this intimate venue her tone loses roundness and becomes mere blast.
Dallimore’s main claim to fame is for her comic Swedish character, Ulla, in The Producers, but even her brief demonstration which concludes this show was no more than mildly funny. She began with what promised to be an interesting interpretation of All That Jazz, until it rose into blast-level volume without feeling. Too many songs had the same format, while those that avoided blast, such as My One True Friend, turned all gooey and sentimental.
The most dramatic moment was when singer and pianist lost contact and their place and had to start again. Irony stepped in with Bette Midler’s words “let me stumble, and be surprised”.
The patter was mere pitter-patter, coming over as little homilies, rather condescending to us on the receiving end – even though she praised us for being a “magical” audience at the end. Though some responded as expected to the mention of celebrities, applause was not much more than polite.
My conclusion is that Dallimore should stick to the big musical stage. She does not have the warmth and directness of communication with an audience needed for intimate cabaret, nor has she put together a dramatic narrative for her songs to give the evening a sense of drive and purpose. The result is bland, in great contrast with the atmosphere, and the cooking, at Teatro Vivaldi.
©Frank McKone, Canberra
Cuisine - exciting; entertainment - dull. Go for the dinner, not for the show.
My title would be Stagestruck – The Musical. Plot consists of random name-dropping anecdotes (Patrick Swayze, Liza Minelli etc. etc. etc.), regular reminders that Chloe goes to New York, details of David’s car deodorant.
Action consists of incy-wincy spider type arm movements, with occasional whole body shimmers – sexy or funny (or superficially titillating) according to your taste. Dallimore’s voice in low register is strong for easy listening, but at big stage volume and high pitch in this intimate venue her tone loses roundness and becomes mere blast.
Dallimore’s main claim to fame is for her comic Swedish character, Ulla, in The Producers, but even her brief demonstration which concludes this show was no more than mildly funny. She began with what promised to be an interesting interpretation of All That Jazz, until it rose into blast-level volume without feeling. Too many songs had the same format, while those that avoided blast, such as My One True Friend, turned all gooey and sentimental.
The most dramatic moment was when singer and pianist lost contact and their place and had to start again. Irony stepped in with Bette Midler’s words “let me stumble, and be surprised”.
The patter was mere pitter-patter, coming over as little homilies, rather condescending to us on the receiving end – even though she praised us for being a “magical” audience at the end. Though some responded as expected to the mention of celebrities, applause was not much more than polite.
My conclusion is that Dallimore should stick to the big musical stage. She does not have the warmth and directness of communication with an audience needed for intimate cabaret, nor has she put together a dramatic narrative for her songs to give the evening a sense of drive and purpose. The result is bland, in great contrast with the atmosphere, and the cooking, at Teatro Vivaldi.
©Frank McKone, Canberra
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