Smoke and Mirrors by Craig Ilott and iOTA. Directed by Craig
Ilott for the Sydney Festival at The Famous Spiegeltent, January 6 –
February 6, 2011
Reviewed by Frank McKone
January 19
This is the second time around for Smoke and Mirrors
at the Sydney Festival. It is definitely worth a return visit.
Refreshments served at the open-air bar from 5pm for a 9.30pm start, and
queueing to get the best GA seats (be there by 8.45pm), ensures that
the whole of Hyde Park buzzes with anticipation even while the band
inside tunes up and rehearses. It feels exactly like a Festival – just
as it should.
The mix of circus and song is held
together in the story of a surreal dreamer – SS – whose fantasies of
escape – running away to the circus – become smoke and mirrors, hiding
reality as much as revealing, reflecting the mask that is ‘slipping from
your face’.
The musicians, led by Tina Harris, are
outstanding as composers and performers – not surprising when you see
their training, qualifications and experience in theatre and film
productions. iOTA, playing SS, brings a certain Rocky Horror Show style to the character in his ringmaster role, but never in an imitative way. Smoke and Mirrors is original work. The tumbling, balancing and trapeze episodes are often surprising, even at times startling.
I
think two women performers were the standouts of the night – Queenie
van de Zandt as an ultimately sad seducer and Kali Retallack on the
trapeze.
By developing a character and using timing
and mood, working closely with the band, Kali turned what otherwise
might have seemed the usual kind of solo trapeze act into an expression
of the show’s theme. Her work was not fantasy – there was no safety net
– but would we all imagine we would dare to emulate her skills?
Queenie’s
final appearance, and especially the quality of her singing, was
absolutely stunning. Her last long note actually silenced the
Spiegeltent briefly before a great outburst of spontaneous cheering and
applause.
And yet, at the end of the night as we walked across a balmy Hyde Park, my wife and I recalled La Clique
at the Sydney Festival in 2007. It was more surreal, more original in
concepts, the circus acts were more sophisticated, and Mikelangelo
brought a greater ironic humour to the same basic idea – running away to
the circus – than iOTA. But of course it’s only critics like me that
worry about such things. Just enjoy!
If you haven’t got tickets yet, The Tix for Next to Nix booth is located at the bottom of Martin Place, near George Street.
When is it open?
January 9-30
Daily from 8am to 12 noon.
The booth will close early if tickets sell out before closing times.
www.sydneyfestival.org.au/2010/Plan-Your-Festival/Tix-for-Next-to-Nix/
© Frank McKone, Canberra
Wednesday, 19 January 2011
Tuesday, 18 January 2011
2011: Bigger Than Jesus by Rick Miller and Daniel Brooks
Bigger Than Jesus by Rick Miller and Daniel Brooks. WYRD
Productions, Canada, presented by Sydney Festival and Sydney Theatre
Company. Performed by Rick Miller at Wharf 1, January 18-29 2011.
Reviewed by Frank McKone
January 18
As a confirmed atheist, I think the god-botherers who were demonstrating outside the theatre when I arrived have nothing to fear from Rick Miller. For me, however, his attempt to enlighten us about the truth of the Jesus story is disappointingly shallow. The show is a great example of how cleverly devised theatre and skilful performance can impress and excite positive responses from an audience, even though the material is inconsistently developed. I heard Canadian accents in the audience on opening night. Maybe the most enthusiastic applause contained some degree of cultural bias.
Theatrically, the way Miller and Brooks (as director) incorporated live video, pre-recorded screen images, recorded sound, live amplification and unamplified voice was especially inviting. Perhaps the most original device was to use three cameras set up in what looked like a laptop (really a box of props). Miller could present himself as one character on screen front-on when facing the centre camera, talking to a different character when he turned slightly side-on towards another camera, while what we saw was both ends of a Skype session in real time. Another very funny sequence was his presentation of the Last Supper, videoed live as Miller manipulated models of the characters. It was like watching the makers of Wallace and Gromit at work and seeing the end result on screen at the same time.
Miller’s voice and movement work was also highly expert, enabling him to play a considerable array of characters from an unassuming Jesus according to John’s Gospel, a fascinating post-modern hot-gospeller (probably as mad as the John who wrote Revelations), through to singing the sentimental Jesus we know so well from Jesus Christ Superstar. Seen from this point of view, Bigger Than Jesus, including the reference to John Lennon – another charismatic John – was consistently entertaining.
But I came away dissatisfied because Miller himself, or at least Miller in his role of Jesus watching all that has been done “in my name” since his birth in the year 4 Before Christ and the writing of the gospels by biassed supporters “between 40 to 60 years” after he died, appears to present Christ as if he is still around today. As an atheist humanist I have no problem with agreeing with the message that we should love one another and behave towards others as we would wish them to behave towards us. But Miller’s ending takes us back to the Catholic mass and the Eucharist ceremony with such feeling that I could not escape the idea that I was meant to put aside all the critical commentary in favour of simple faith in Christ and his message, as if this will carry the day.
I felt cheated because the work began by seriously criticising the likelihood of the Jesus story ever having happened in reality, setting us up for an argument which was never properly followed through. It was as if Miller and Brooks had never understood George Bernard Shaw, whose St Joan proved that an atheist can appreciate the value of genuine religious belief. Bigger Than Jesus is a philosophical mess in comparison.
Interestingly, since the placards of invocations against the Sydney Theatre Company for presenting this work of the devil had gone from Hickson Road when I left the Wharf after an hour and a half, I can only assume those so bothered had either found out the truth about the ending, or, being post-modern themselves, had given up trying to insist on the absolute truth of anything any more.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
Reviewed by Frank McKone
January 18
As a confirmed atheist, I think the god-botherers who were demonstrating outside the theatre when I arrived have nothing to fear from Rick Miller. For me, however, his attempt to enlighten us about the truth of the Jesus story is disappointingly shallow. The show is a great example of how cleverly devised theatre and skilful performance can impress and excite positive responses from an audience, even though the material is inconsistently developed. I heard Canadian accents in the audience on opening night. Maybe the most enthusiastic applause contained some degree of cultural bias.
Theatrically, the way Miller and Brooks (as director) incorporated live video, pre-recorded screen images, recorded sound, live amplification and unamplified voice was especially inviting. Perhaps the most original device was to use three cameras set up in what looked like a laptop (really a box of props). Miller could present himself as one character on screen front-on when facing the centre camera, talking to a different character when he turned slightly side-on towards another camera, while what we saw was both ends of a Skype session in real time. Another very funny sequence was his presentation of the Last Supper, videoed live as Miller manipulated models of the characters. It was like watching the makers of Wallace and Gromit at work and seeing the end result on screen at the same time.
Miller’s voice and movement work was also highly expert, enabling him to play a considerable array of characters from an unassuming Jesus according to John’s Gospel, a fascinating post-modern hot-gospeller (probably as mad as the John who wrote Revelations), through to singing the sentimental Jesus we know so well from Jesus Christ Superstar. Seen from this point of view, Bigger Than Jesus, including the reference to John Lennon – another charismatic John – was consistently entertaining.
But I came away dissatisfied because Miller himself, or at least Miller in his role of Jesus watching all that has been done “in my name” since his birth in the year 4 Before Christ and the writing of the gospels by biassed supporters “between 40 to 60 years” after he died, appears to present Christ as if he is still around today. As an atheist humanist I have no problem with agreeing with the message that we should love one another and behave towards others as we would wish them to behave towards us. But Miller’s ending takes us back to the Catholic mass and the Eucharist ceremony with such feeling that I could not escape the idea that I was meant to put aside all the critical commentary in favour of simple faith in Christ and his message, as if this will carry the day.
I felt cheated because the work began by seriously criticising the likelihood of the Jesus story ever having happened in reality, setting us up for an argument which was never properly followed through. It was as if Miller and Brooks had never understood George Bernard Shaw, whose St Joan proved that an atheist can appreciate the value of genuine religious belief. Bigger Than Jesus is a philosophical mess in comparison.
Interestingly, since the placards of invocations against the Sydney Theatre Company for presenting this work of the devil had gone from Hickson Road when I left the Wharf after an hour and a half, I can only assume those so bothered had either found out the truth about the ending, or, being post-modern themselves, had given up trying to insist on the absolute truth of anything any more.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
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