Monday, 21 December 2015

2015: A Christmas Carol adapted by Kirsty Budding





A Christmas Carol adapted by Kirsty Budding from the novella by Charles Dickens.  Budding Theatre directed by Jamie Winbank and Kitty Malam.  At Teatro Vivaldi, ANU, December 21-23, 2015.

Reviewed by Frank McKone
December 21

How can I remain in my habitual curmudgeonly role as a critic, now that I’ve seen the miser Ebenezer Scrooge turn his life towards empathetic Christmas cheer in just 45 minutes?

No.  No, I cannot!  I can only write positive comments, despite what happened to Scrooge: Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset.... [on the last page, p82, of A Christmas Carol in the 1907 Everyman’s Library edition of Christmas Books by Charles Dickens].

We all laughed at Kirsty Budding’s exaggerated representation of the pageant of the ghosts of Christmas Past (Jade Breen), Christmas Present (Anna Miley) and Christmas Yet To Come (Jason Sarossy), narrated well over the top by Zoe Swan.  Scrooge (Oliver Durbidge) could not contain himself in the negative nor the positive, from the vision of Marley’s Ghost (dead as a doornail!) to offering Bob Cratchit (Brendan Kelly) and his family Mrs Cratchit (Bridgette Kucher), Martha Cratchit (Abigail Mitchell), Belinda Cratchit (Olivia Adamow) and “Tiny” Tim Cratchit –  who did not die –  (Callum Doherty), not just Christmas Day off work, but the whole week!

Unfortunately for a reviewer, co-directors Kitty Malam and Jamie Winbank were so clever at moving masses off, on and around the tiny Teatro Vivaldi stage, that I’m left to record that only another 26 young people performed.  They remain nameless here as an encouragement for all those who haven’t yet booked, to see the show for the laughs, the program with all their names in, and for the message – still true to Charles Dickens’ intention – “as was always said [of the reformed Scrooge], that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge.  May that be truly said of us, and all of us!”

Brebdan Kelly as Bob Cratchit

Jade Breen as the Ghost of Christmas Past

Oliver Durbidge as Scrooge







Thursday, 17 December 2015

2015: Cara Carissima by Geoff Page


Cara Carissima by Geoff Page.  Produced by Peter Wilkins (The Acting Company) and Geoff Page; Associate Producer: Joe Woodward (Shadow House Pits).  Director: Tanya Gruber; Set Design: Charlotte Stewart; Lighting Design: Ben Pik.  At The Courtyard Studio, Canberra Theatre Centre, December 17-20, 2015.  Running time: 60 minutes.

Reviewed by Frank McKone
December 17

Cast
Peter Robinson – Barry, a senior public servant
Cara Irvine – Cara, Barry’s executive assistant / lover
Nikki-Lyn Hunter – Sarah, Barry’s wife / ex-wife
Kate Blackhurst – Jane, Sarah’s sister
Bruno Galdino – Bruno, barista

Lighter than a latte; skinny as in cap;
With a little bit of rum, and some froth on tap.

My apologies to the author, who likes his rhyming couplets.  It’s these that make Cara Carissima into a pleasantly humorous light entertainment on a theme of life in administration.

Or rather, what we see of that life out of the office in a convenient take-away coffee shop.  Here the barista – much too impressive a title, I thought – listens to his customers’ personal interactions and fills us in with the details between the scenes we observe, as Barry’s and Sarah’s marriage falls apart, Jane does what she can to keep things sensible; and Cara takes Sarah’s place, leaving Sarah hoping in revenge that the younger woman will soon find Barry as boring as she had. 

The venue is not kind to the actors, because of its acoustics.  Playing in the round – or in this case in the square with audience in all four sides – was perhaps not such a good idea, even though it meant a closer intimacy for each of us watching than the options of dividing the space in a conventional way.  Although actors made sure they spread their attention around fairly evenly, it was often difficult to pick up the words clearly from an actor when facing the opposite side.  And I have to admit that though Bruno’s accent made his title as barista seem more likely, many of his words were hard to understand.

Since Geoff Page is a very well-known poet, and words – especially how they sound – is so important in his work, I wondered if the play may not work very well on radio, even though seeing the characters live was good fun.


©Frank McKone, Canberra

Saturday, 5 December 2015

2015: King Lear by William Shakespeare

Geoffrey Rush as King Lear
All photos by Heidrun Löhr

King Lear by William Shakespeare.  Sydney Theatre Company directed by Neil Armfield.  Set design – Robert Cousins; Costumes – Alice Babidge; Lighting – Nick Schlieper; Composer – John Rodgers; Sound – Stefan Gregory; Voice and text coach – Charmian Gradwell.  At Roslyn Packer Theatre (one-time Sydney Theatre) November 24, 2015 – January 9, 2016.

Reviewed by Frank McKone
December 5

Magnificent!

There are a couple of points I want to query, but to have men in the audience, including me, in tears at interval, and again at the end is a measure of the power of this production of King Lear.

It’s thoroughly original in design and performance, taking the meaning of the play apart in a way I have never seen before.

First is the recognition that this is a mythical drama, placing Shakespeare in the company of Sophocles and Euripides.  Though it is partly about the nature of autocratic kingship, which in our modern democracy we may think is no longer relevant, we only have to remember that the Athenian democracy which produced the Ancient Greek theatre did not last long.  Beware!

Where it is about love – conditional or unconditional – this story of familial failings is certainly relevant to us all in any period of human history.  Take care!

In placing our abiding sense of self-importance against the uncomprehending reality of the universe,  this play, in this production, is huge.  We may rail against adversity, but the best we can manage is an acceptance of our human condition, though even this is no consolation.

Our tears at the tyrant’s gouging out the eyes of the naive old man Gloucester, at Lear’s haunting wail as he carries in his dead daughter, still hoping her breath will stir a feather, and at Edgar/Poor Tom’s words which conclude the drama, are as much for ourselves as for any character on the stage.  As Shakespeare wrote, we – “all the men and women” – are “merely players”. 

How much can we hope when the best Edgar can suggest is to “Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say”, in the face of “The weight of this sad time”?

But we can still hope in one important way.  We can place our hope in art, when we see it at its peak of humanity, maturity and skill.  As I saw it, watching this King Lear.

Being mythic does not imply that the setting must be in an ancient past, nor limited to any time or place.  Robert Cousins has understood this so well that clothing may be modern, words may be amplified with modern technology, nakedness may be explicit as it can at last be on a modern stage, rain may be real water, swords may be no more than short knives; and all may be presented for the first half in black empty space foreboding awful things to come, yet turn white in an even more frightening open space than before.  Every element in costumes, props, becomes significant and imbued with meaning in a weird way.  Every detail stands out in our minds because there are no boundaries which allow us to sit back satisfied.

And every word, every sound, every switch in tone of voice, every little stiffness in movement, or extreme looseness, turns our attention on.  With such a well-chosen cast almost every moment is perfect, dramatically.  Only two elements felt out of place, to me.

As we approach Dover and the invading/rescuing army is still at some distance, its presence is made known by faint and a little too staccato drumming which, at that point, distracted my attention from the characters on stage – until their words made it clear what the sound was.  I think this was a just a matter of timing, perhaps on the night (or in the afternoon as it was in my case).

More concerning for me was the directing of Eryn Jean Norvill as Cordelia.  I’m well aware of Norvill’s qualities as an actor from seeing her in previous shows, so I think even the doyen of directors, Neil Armfield, was in error in making her posture and voice more harsh in effect than seemed right to me.  I was not assuming that Cordelia should be as soft-spoken and forgiving as she is generally played.  I saw in the playing of the three sisters that they each in their own way had to find themselves as independent self-determined women, each at their different ages and stage in their relationship with their father.  Helen Buday’s Goneril had things in control, as she saw things, while Regan as Helen Thomson played her was still on the edge.

I saw in Cordelia the late teenage daughter, without a mother (which Shakespeare never explains) and needing to establish her self.  To that extent, with such an expectant father, I could see her pushing him too hard (which he doesn’t expect, assuming she had been compliant when younger).  So I saw her forcefulness which made sense, and I could explain to some degree her brittle quality of voice as she pushed herself forward with a new youthful sense of purpose.  But when Geoffrey Rush’s beginning-to-be-delusional father reacts as aggressively as he did, I felt there should have been more of a chance that she would soften and back off a little, and use a rounder tone with him – though still not giving in, of course.

I expected this would show her developing sense of maturity, which showed in her dealings with her two suitors.  For me, she left that first scene with less sympathy than I wanted to give her, and I have to say some of that feeling returned when she reappeared as a properly motivated but unsuccessful army commander, saying bitterly to Edmund “We are not the first / Who, with best meaning, have incurr’d the worst”, but then in rounder tones, I think, to her father “For thee, oppressed king, I am cast down; / Myself could else out-frown false fortune’s frown.” 

Again. maybe it was just on the day, but I felt the presentation of Cordelia was done with less subtlety than I saw in the other characters.

Which brings me to the four characters which are central to the success of the play: Robyn Nevin’s Fool, the Earl of Kent played by Jacek Koman, and the key figures of Edgar/Poor Tom and Lear himself.  Armfield’s direction and the skills of these four ensured they held the play together, notwithstanding the excellence all around them.

Robyn Nevin played with beautiful timing, in relation to the other characters and especially to the audience.  There was a softness in the stand-up comedy that made the question of the Fool’s almost fogotten death terribly poignant.  I’ll mention how effective the ending was a little later.

Being about or perhaps even a bit more than Lear’s age (I’m well past having a teenage daughter), I sometimes found Jacek Koman’s accent a little hard to follow, but his consistency in presenting the always reliable retainer in Kent was done with just the degree of variety needed to make us still willing to hear him out and want to go along with him on the very last page:  “I have a journey, sir, shortly to go; / My master calls me, I must not say no.” 

In some productions this becomes sentimental, but there was a shock and even tears to realise Kent’s sacrifice for the sake of humanity.

It may go without saying that Geoffrey Rush would be a great King Lear, but what made him so?  For me, in contrast with other Lears I’ve seen, it was his special relationship with Poor Tom, apparently mad, a guise taken on by Gloucester’s legitimate son, Edgar to escape attack from his jealous born-out-of-wedlock brother, Edmund.  Mark Leonard Winter plays Edgar, while Edmund is played by Meyne Wyatt.

Lear takes Poor Tom for real.  Poor Tom’s a-cold because he is, literally, naked.  As Edgar plays Poor Tom more and more wildly to maintain his disguise, Lear begins to match him, stripping off his clothes which barely protect him from the constant rain.  To the horror of the Fool and Kent, but to my admiration for the actors’ willingness to go for broke, Rush’s Lear joins Winter’s Poor Tom in a kind of devilish dance, reminding me of the witches’ sabbath scene in Berlioz’ Symphonie fantastique.

In other productions Poor Tom has been a-cold and timorous, while Lear has stayed too kingly, even as a pretence.  However justified in some directors’ analysis, Geoffrey Rush and Mark Leonard Winter transport us into a kind of euphoric state, almost ecstatic in their loss of normal constraint.  This was acting at its very best.

And so to the end, which for me has always posed a problem.  Most of the deaths – of Goneril, Regan and Edmund – are off-stage.  Only Lear, cradling the dead Cordelia, is on stage with his supporters Albany, Kent and Edgar.  Quite out of the blue, as he is dying, Lear says “And my poor fool is hang’d!”  Albany says “Bear them hence,” the last words are spoken, then Exeunt, with a dead march.

As a young student I thought this was a boring ending, and in other productions the energy has dropped even before Lear has finally died.  And how did Lear know the Fool was hanged, considering that we hadn’t seen or heard of him since Act III?  Another interpretation, though, is that Lear is referring to Cordelia as his “poor fool”, since we know that Edmund ordered her to be hanged.  Either way, the end concerned me.

But at last I have seen how to do the end properly.  As a play of mythical proportions, Armfield and the design team bring on the dead, including the Fool, bit by bit as the final scene proceeds.  Against white nothingness figures take their place, standing stiff, with the face and the palm of one hand blackened, just as Gloucester’s empty eye sockets had turned black.  At the point when Lear dies, the sense of dread from the surrounding dead reaches a climax, the last words are spoken, and the curtain drops steadily and deliberately. 

Magnificent!  And a standing ovation!

LtoR: Colin Moody, Helen Thomson, Eryn Jean Norvill, Geoffrey Rush, Mark Leonard Winter as
Duke of Cornwall, Regan, Cordelia, King Lear, Edgar. (Wade Briggs as King of France is out of shot)
Act I, Scene1



Robyn Nevin and Geoffrey Rush as
Fool and King Lear




Helen Buday, Colin Moody, Geoffrey Rush, Robyn Nevin, Nick Masters as
Goneril, Albany, Lear, Fool,




Mark Leonard Winter, Jacek Koman, Geoffrey Rush, Robyn Nevin as
Poor Tom, Earl of Kent, King Lear, Fool






Max Cullen, Mark Leonard Winter, Geoffrey Rush as
blinded Earl of Gloucester, Edgar/Poor Tom, King Lear




Meyne Wyatt and Helen Thomson as
Edmund and Regan



Geoffrey Rush and Eryn Jean Norvill as
King Lear and Cordelia
Act V, Scene 3




Friday, 4 December 2015

2015: Senate Arts Inquiry: 20 extraordinary, self-serving statements you need to read from the Government by Raymond Gill


Many articles were written about one-time Arts Minister and Attorney General George Brandis' attempt to undermine the success over many decades of the Australia Council's approach to funding the Arts.  In my view, this piece by Raymond Gill, published online in the Daily Review on 4 December 2015 was especially valuable for its analysis of the conservative Government's response to the submissions by the Arts community to the inquiry by Senate Standing Committee on Legal and Constitutional Issues. 
BRANDIS2web-5-1
When former Arts Minister, Senator George Brandis, unleashed his ill-thought raid on the independent Australia Council in May, taking $105 million from its budget to give to his own Ministry — where he and his appointees alone could decide which arts organisations were worthy of receiving tax-payer funds — the Greens and the ALP initiated a Senate inquiry.
Their inquiry into Brandis’ “National Program for Excellence in the Arts” drew an extraordinary and united response from artists and organisations across the country. They opposed the ludicrous plan that would severely damage — and possibly kill off — scores of small arts companies. These organisations act as the engine room and nurturers of talent for the big theatre, opera, ballet companies and orchestras that Brandis favoured by exempting them from the cuts.
“The Senate Standing Committee on Legal and Constitutional Issues inquiry into the impact of the 2014 and 2015 budget decisions on the arts” released its report on Wednesday night. It found that the $105 million taken from Australia Council would jeopardise the viability of many individual artists and small to medium arts organisations and it recommended the government fully restore the funding to the Australia Council.
The following 20 statements from the Government’s dissenting response to the inquiry are breathtaking in their cynicism and attempt to re-write recent events to serve their own political purposes. If there was ever any doubt that Brandis’ NPEA was about politics first, and arts a distant second, then these statements prove it.


Dissenting report from Government Members of the Committee
(Statements in bold have been highlighted by Daily Review)
“The Legal and Constitutional Affairs References Committee (‘the committee’) inquiry into the impact of the 2014 and 2015 Commonwealth Budget decisions on the arts (‘the inquiry’) was a cynical attempt by Opposition, Greens political party and some Independent Senators to politicise reform of arts funding mechanisms.”
“Claims by the Independent-Greens-Labor majority of the committee (‘the majority’) that the inquiry was not political in nature are clearly not supported. Throughout the conduct of the inquiry the majority has attempted to create a divisive and combative atmosphere that characterises the government as inherently opposed to supporting Australian arts and culture. This characterisation is unambiguously false.”
Government members of the committee are critical of attempts by the majority to marginalise the nation’s arts community, force them into taking a position against the government, and use arts and culture funding as a platform from which to launch cynical political attacks that lack factual basis and create uncertainty.”
Government Senators were effectively disenfranchised from the inquiry process by being disregarded in the scheduling of public hearings. This supports the conclusion that the conduct of the inquiry was for political rather than parliamentary (or, in fact, arts and culture-related) purposes.”
“Government Senators note that the ultimate client of all taxpayer-funded programming is the taxpayer him/herself. The government is mindful that in the main its funding activities must, as far as possible, reflect the interests and expectations of the Australian taxpayer rather than the interests and expectations of particular sectors or interest groups.”
“Austerity measures across all portfolios have been imposed to seek efficiencies that will reflect the public interest in national debt-management. The arts sector could not be said to have been asked to perform any ‘heavy lifting’ in pursuing this objective.”
“The arts funding pool provided to the Australia Council by the Commonwealth Government consisted of a total appropriation in 2012-13 of $188,000,000; 2013-14 of $218,800,000; a total appropriation in 2014-15 of $211,800,000; and a total appropriation in 2015-16 of $184,500,000. The government’s reduction in Australia Council funding, following the increased appropriation in 2013-14, reflects the austerity that has been applied across multiple portfolios in light of the serious national debt position inherited from the previous government. This reduction also reflects the government’s confidence in the spirit of arts funding reform measures.”
“The inquiry was established to investigate the proposed National Programme for Excellence in the Arts (‘NPEA’) however the subsequent replacement of the NPEA with the Catalyst model during the conduct of the inquiry—and the endorsement of this change by the Australia Council—is not reflected in the committee Chair’s inquiry report (‘the report’) that instead quotes heavily from highly emotive submissions and evidence gathered in the early stages of the inquiry.”
“The evidence to the committee—in the form of submissions and testimony at public hearings—was inherently incomplete in that only a very small range of like-minded interest groups were invited, or volunteered, to present their case. Page 77 of the report characterises this evidence as the response of ‘..the broader community’ which is an irresponsible and misleading statement. Government members of the committee note that the ‘broader community’—that is, every Australian other than those with some connection to the arts sector—did not on this occasion take the opportunity to make their feelings known.”
“Page 17 of the report cites the ‘…remarkable level of consistency in the evidence provided’, which comes as no surprise considering the evidence provided to the inquiry came, almost without exception, from artists and arts organisations who have a vested interest in attacking the government’s budgetary efficiencies.”
“The number of submissions with a common approach is also unsurprising in view of the many peak groups whose websites actively encouraged and assisted with the wording of letters of concern to the inquiry.”
“It is noted that the particulars of the efficiencies imposed by the Australia Council in response to budget measures were within the remit of the Australia Council itself. The inquiry heard evidence that was highly critical of, for example, the decision to discontinue the ArtStart program. The majority were willing to incorrectly characterise this as a decision of government rather than promote the true facts that this was a decision of the Australia Council.”
“In responding to the shift from peer-reviewed funding decisions to a more accountable and transparent process vested in the minister and the Department of Communications and the Arts, the Chair’s report warns at page 34 of ‘…political interference…’ in the allocation of arts funding. Government Senators are disturbed, but not surprised, that the majority consider that funding directions made in the public interest by duly-appointed ministers of a lawfully-elected representative government could constitute ‘interference’.”
“Government Senators also note the inconsistency of the majority report which, while it condemns the Commonwealth for its processes, had no words of condemnation for arrangements in state jurisdictions. The arrangements put in place by the Commonwealth Department of Communications and the Arts in relation to arts funding grants largely replicate current arrangements in all state and territory jurisdictions, four of which are run by Labor governments.”
“Government Senators recognise the importance of fostering the on-going development of Australian cultural and artistic expression however they are not persuaded that the peer-review model is in all cases the most reliable manner of expressing the wishes and interests of the Australia taxpayer regarding support for the arts.
“Government members of the committee have concerns regarding the transparency and accountability of the Australia Council peer-review process and note that submissions and evidence to the inquiry have failed to reassure them that the Australia Council peer review process is not susceptible to bias.”
“Government members were concerned by elements of the testimony provided to the committee that seemed to betray an unhealthy sense of entitlement to the financial support of the taxpayer in the absence of an effective oversight or regulatory regime.”
“The decision by the Minister for the Arts, Senator the Hon Mitch Fifield, to create a new arts fund ‘Catalyst’ should be recognised for the valuable contribution it will make to an innovative arts and cultural industry. Instead it has been incorrectly portrayed by the majority as an attack on the autonomy of the arts sector. On the contrary, the Catalyst model lays the foundations for a sustainable arts funding model that will ensure our nation’s diverse arts sector continues to flourish.”
The Australia Council is effectively accountable only to itself. It provides an annual statement to the parliament but in operational terms continues to be independent. The Catalyst program, as a facet of the Department of Communications and the Arts, will be conducted with far greater oversight by government and the parliament. Catalyst will make funding decisions in alignment with the guidelines approved by the minister, an elected parliamentarian whose role is to guide departmental operations in a manner that reflects the wishes of the taxpayer. For a portion of arts funding to be deployed within such a framework is a good step towards ensuring that, across the spectrum, arts funding fosters innovation, provides cultural development, supports industry and reflects the wishes of the Australian people.
Government members acknowledge concerns about duplication of administrative costs however note that much of the burden will be shouldered by existing operational infrastructure within the Department of Communications and the Arts. When asked about the cost of administering the Catalyst program, the Executive Director of the Ministry for the Arts remarked that ‘Most of it we have absorbed within our current resources’.Additionally, with a smaller funding remit the Australia Council will benefit from being able to reduce its organisational footprint.”
Illustration: Michael Agzarian

2015: Not Quite Christmas. Shortis&Simpson


 Photo: canberraticketing.com.au

Not Quite Christmas. Shortis&Simpson (shortisandsimpson.com) - A satirical, seasonal tour 14 Nov 2015 – 5 Dec 2015 at Café Wood Works, Bungendore;  Robertson Community Technology Centre; Nerrigundah AG Bureau, Nerrigundah (25 minutes drive west of Bodalla on Eurobodalla Road); Teatro Vivaldi, ANU campus, Fri/Sat December 4/5.

Reviewed by Frank McKone
December 4

It isn’t really Christmas that’s “not quite”.  It’s more about what we might get for Christmas after the last year or two politically.  Not quite what we would like.

Most of the songs use music that’s well known, and often easy to sing along with, but John Shortis’ words and his and Moya Simpson’s performances are much more than “quite”.  This year’s satire is very good – and at the same time very traditional.

This is anything but a criticism, but may need to be explained to readers around the world outside the Bungendore – Queanbeyan – Canberra axis of goodness.  If New York is the Big Apple, Shortis&Simpson is like the trunk of the tree of knowledge, which was planted in the Queanbeyan School of Arts Café at the dawn of time in 1996 and bears fruit at this time of each year, harvested at various scrumptious locations.

Vivaldi’s has become a worthy descendant of the original Q School of Arts Café – which closed in 2000 after too much excitement for Bill, Pat and Tim Stephens to handle – and since the untimely end of Dominic Mico’s ownership of Smith’s Alternative Bookshop.  Looking vaguely like the Famous Spiegeltent (the real one will be here in Canberra early next year), and dressed up with several thousand Christmas LEDs, the atmosphere enhanced by a three-course meal and stimulated by wine from the bar was ready for knowing laughter.

I could legitimately mention every number in the show, all being equal.  But for the sake of witty brevity I’ll give space to three, for their different qualities.

For clever rhyming, John’s forté, the Bill Shorten song took the unwrap the parcel prize.  Every line rhymed with Bill in the manner of all those nasty parliamentarians’ name calling – like “Electricity Bill”.  But none of them ever came near to the rhyme “pterodactyl”.  You had to listen very carefully to see how that came about!  I hope John will publish the words of his songs as a lasting record.

For Moya’s voice, after her gravelly rendition of Bob Dylan’s new song “The 21st Century’s been reinstalled: The Times They are A-Changing”, I could not go past her commemoration “Vale Cilla Black” – a quite extraordinary range to match “the woman with two voices”.

And for unstoppable laughter there was the old trick of the two drunkards talking about our political leaders: Shill Bortern, Talcum Murnbull and Ony Tabbott who let Creta Pedlin cun the runtry when he was Mine Primister.  It doesn’t look so funny on paper, but after a good five minutes of sincere drunken commentary on our lopitical peaders, vivatro tealdi was a lyot of rafter.  It was amazing how much seemed to make sensible critical political commentary.  A glass or so of sauvignon blanc made even better sense of it.

And on a serious note, apart from asking God to take Eric Abetz and Cory Bernardi away somewhere – anywhere – there was no need to unwrap the parcel for the asylum seeker children still in detention.  We all knew what their best Christmas present would be.

I think I’m right to point out that Shortis&Simpson have succeeded where many others have fallen by the wayside.  In their 20th year they constitute the longest running professional theatre company in our history, excepting Canberra Youth Theatre and The Jigsaw Company.  I think that makes John and Moya an Institution – not to be sneezed – or laughed at!



© Frank McKone, Canberra

Sunday, 22 November 2015

2015: The Chain Bridge by Tom Davis



The Chain Bridge by Tom Davis.  Presented by The Street, directed by Caroline Stacey.  Designer – Imogen Keen; Sound – Kimmo Vennonen; Lighting – Gillian Schwab.  At The Street One, November 21-29, 2015.

Reviewed by Frank McKone
November 22

Most serious plays tell us truths we need to hear.  The Chain Bridge does that in one sense, but is also a salutary reminder that in some circumstances knowing the truth might be more destructive than we can bear.  Some of the best plays in the canon – like, say, Oedipus Rex or King Lear – have this theme.

Though Canberra writer Tom Davis, in this play, doesn’t have the same sense of economy of form as Sophocles or Shakespeare, his story of a young academic couple – Sarah (Kate Hosking) and her Hungarian-background husband Imre (Peter Cook) – arguing about the need for accuracy of historical truth in the book he is about to publish becomes as grim as Oedipus gouging out his eyes, when the truths about how Imre’s mother Eva (Geraldine Turner) survived the Nazi occupation at the end of World War II and the 1956 Hungarian revolution against the Russian occupiers, and finally arrived as a refugee in Australia in 1958. 

Two others had also escaped from Budapest – Katalin (Zsuzsi Soboslay) and József (PJ Williams) – arriving here in 1957, whose histories were closely entwined with Eva’s story.  Sarah, marrying into this migrant family where covering up truths is a necessary part of being freed from an awful past – being free in Australia – senses that she is not being told the truth, certainly by Imre’s mother, but maybe even by Imre himself.  Who, especially, was Imre’s father, mysteriously absent from the scene in Melbourne?

Since revelation is the purpose of the play, it’s not my place to reveal more of the story apart from saying that a resolution is achieved.  Sarah and Imre are nearly torn apart, but finally a point is reached where they are able to respect each other, and so can love each other – and let the argument about the truth become academic rather than a tear in the fabric of their relationship.

So the play is, in essence, very good.  It’s a measure of the success of The Street’s Hive playwriting program, including its First Seen staged readings, which provided the development stage of this work and Tom Davis’ next work, The Faithful Servant, which will appear in 2016.

An essential part of The Street’s role as a professional theatre emphasising new writing in Canberra is to give the works high quality direction and design.  Caroline Stacey is Artistic Director and CEO of the The Street and, for this production has put together an excellent team on stage and backstage.  The script requires scenes in Imre and Sarah’s Melbourne home to morph into remembered (or perhaps not truthfully remembered) scenes in Budapest, including occasions such as the German SS blowing up the Chain Bridge, the crossing of the Danube from Pest on the eastern side to Buda on the western bank, on the route from Hungary into Austria – an escape route from the Russian invasion.

This meant the actors playing the core roles all needed to play a wide variety of other roles in those historical (or maybe not truly historical) scenes.  The list looks bewildering:

Geraldine Turner – Eva/Woman/Villager/Townsman/Private (as in ‘soldier’)
Peter Cook – Imre/Tabor/Wisliceny/Arrow Cross/Gerö/Protester
Kate Hosking – Sarah/Deborah/Villager/Townsman/Corporal/Protester
ZsuZsi Soboslay – Katalin/Woman/Agnes/Dora/Villager/Townsman/Sergeant
PJ Williams – József/Samuel/Ferenc/Doctor/Villager/Townsman/Lieutenant/Arrow Cross, Domokos/Szabo

Phew!  Yet all these roles were clear, even including in scenes where some characters were in the past while others were in the present.  In fact there were scenes where past and present would shift from one to the other during continuous action.  It’s a measure of the careful writing and, of course, of the care taken in directing – as well as the skills of the actors in establishing and maintaining characters on cue. 

Set, lighting and sound required as much agility (just to throw in a current political term).  The basic set was abstract in form, using long narrow vertical poles which, with horrifyingly realistic sound effects of bomb explosions and gunfire, and lighting which could pick out details of a particular pole or characters between poles, gave the viewer an ever-changing array of images as time and place shifted.

Then there was the clever device of books, the play being about writing a book and about the ‘truth’ written in books.  Books were everywhere, with an interesting twist as they became the stones thrown at the Soviet Russian invaders.  Wikipedia tells the story of “The Hungarian resistance [which] continued until 10 November. Over 2,500 Hungarians and 700 Soviet troops were killed in the conflict, and 200,000 Hungarians fled as refugees.” (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hungarian_Revolution_of_1956)

It takes concentration on the audience’s part, over three hours with a 20 minute interval, but the effort is well worthwhile.  There’s a message here that we should all be careful about making assumptions about our neighbours in multicultural Australia.  To quote as nearly as I can remember: “It’s not just a story when your parents have been killed.”  And, of course, it’s highly ironic to watch this play about refugees from Hungary finding freedom in Australia while Hungary is building fences to keep out the refugees flooding in from being bombed in Syria.

For me there was also a personal note.  Only a year ago, before the refugee torrent was under way, I visited Budapest, heard the stories about how people tried to make their Communism into a softer form and provided others (such as a community of Serbs) with a bit more freedom than in other states, and the chance to cross into Austria where the Iron Curtain was a bit rusty.

I heard too about the 400-year history of the Austro-Hungarian Empire under the rule of the Hapsburg family, and the building of the Buda Palace – and I enjoyed the evening lights and the soup and dumplings on a Danube River cruise under the Chain Bridge, rebuilt with its sculptured horses.  But now I know so much more about the reality of the lives, especially of the women and how they survived.  I was born about the same time as Eva, winter 1940/41, and also have memories (but from London), perhaps true or maybe not entirely so, of hiding under a reinforced table in case the house was bombed, of air-raid sirens, of being born in such a snow-storm that my father could not get to the hospital. There was much in this play to remind me. 

I arrived in Australia in early 1955, while in 1956 a young teacher – the best English teacher I ever had – left Sydney to go to Hungary to watch, if not take part in, the revolution to throw the Russians out.  Whether he succeeded or not I will never know, since a recent book (2014) by a classmate records that Neil Hope, nicknamed Soap or Sope, “left the shores of Australia for what he hoped would be a less philistine society in Italy, only to die there in a motor-scooter accident.” 

As The Chain Bridge suggests, to know the truth about even one’s own past is not necessarily to know what really happened.


Whole cast of The Chain Bridge - dress rehearsal
Photo by Lorna Sim

© Frank McKone, Canberra

Friday, 20 November 2015

2015: Catalyst (formerly known as the National Program for Excellence in the Arts) Guidelines Released

From: "Ministry for the Arts" To: "Frank McKone"
Date: Fri, 20 Nov 2015 13:28:27





Special bulletin from the Ministry for the Arts - November 2015
hero image for the enewsletter
The MINISTRY FOR THE ARTS develops and administers programs and policies that encourage excellence in art, support for cultural heritage and public access to arts and culture in Australia.

Catalyst - Australian Arts and Culture Fund

Guidelines released for Catalyst - Australian Arts and Culture Fund

The guidelines for Catalyst - Australian Arts and Culture Fund have been released.
Catalyst (formerly known as the National Program for Excellence in the Arts) will provide funding of $12 million each year to small, medium and large arts organisations at a national, regional and community level.
Priorities for the program include innovative projects by small to medium organisations, and projects that increase participation of regional Australians in the arts and enhance our international reputation.
Funding can support activities such as performances, exhibitions, tours, development and creation of new work, festivals, investment in foundation or fellowship programs, and infrastructure and capacity-building projects.
Arts Minister Mitch Fifield announced the new program today following consultation with the arts sector. The Minister has also restored $8 million per year to the Australia Council to primarily support small to medium organisations.
Catalyst will complement the programs of the Australia Council and Creative Partnerships Australia which encourages private sector support to the arts.  
Catalyst funding is available from three streams: partnerships and collaborations; innovation and participation; and international and cultural diplomacy.

Applications will be assessed with the assistance of independent assessors. So far, over 300 assessors are registered with the Ministry for the Arts including artists, curators, philanthropists and audience members.

Applications to Catalyst open on Friday 27 November.

To see the guidelines and eligibility criteria, visit the Ministry for the Arts website.

Read the Minister’s media release announcing Catalyst.

Monday, 16 November 2015

2015: Orlando by Virginia Woolf, adapted by Sarah Ruhl


Orlando from the novel by Virginia Woolf, adapted by Sarah Ruhl.  Sydney Theatre Company, directed by Sarah Goodes.  Designer – Renée Mulder; Lighting – Damien Cooper; Music – Alan John; Sound – Steve Francis.  Sydney Opera House, November 9 – December 19, 2015.

Reviewed by Frank McKone
November 16

Well – I had no idea Virginia Woolf could be so much fun.  Orlando begins his story as a typical Elizabethan swashbuckling man having an interesting affair with a Russian Princess.  Orlando ends her story in about 1930 driving her own car, married to an Archduke, having some confused memories and new-found feelings about the Russian Princess, and finding men still don’t understand women – especially when they now expect to behave and think like men.

As Sarah Goodes has written, “The story of Orlando is so epic, bold and brave, it soars through time, age, gender and space.”  This adaptation by Sarah Ruhl is a wonder to behold.  And enjoy. 

And it’s all done with just six terrific actors.  Their roles will give you some idea of the madcap sort of approach which makes the play so much fun to watch.

Jacqueline McKenzie is Orlando, who is desperate to become a great writer.  After several hundred years, his/her poem about the oak tree and the green grass is still never quite complete.

Luisa Hastings Edge plays Sasha, the Princess with a seemingly endless title.

The inimitable John Gaden is an absolutely magnificent Queen Elizabeth I, who also seems to have escaped from Alice in Wonderland, thoroughly lustful for the man with the most beautiful legs, Orlando. 

Polynesian actor Anthony Taufa is a poet, Othello, a seaman on Princess Sasha’s ship taking her away from Orlando (when Orlando is still a man).

Matthew Backer is Desdemona, horribly trying to defend herself as Othello so stupidly kills her, moralising all the way.  Backer is Orlando’s awful suitor Marmaduke in a later time, a kind of reverse image of Queen Elizabeth now that Orlando is a woman.

And Garth Holcombe is at times both the Archduke and an Archduchess.

Apart from Orlando, the other five come together in many different combinations as a Chorus who sing, observe, tell the story, make comments and provide Orlando with all he/she needs to continue on his/her way.

A huge movable set of stairs going up one side and down the other form a kind of pyramid which is opened up into many different configurations to reveal all manner of things, from a ‘cupboard under the stairs’ for props and costumes, to the prow of Sasha’s ship, to a secret mirrored space where the naked Orlando is exposed.

The sense of journey is conveyed by setting the action on a dual revolve, where the centre may turn, the outer rim may turn, together or separately, bringing actors or props (one was a fully laden banquet table which reminded me of Prospero’s entertainment by his spirits in The Tempest) into view or away as needed.

Such flexibility on the part of the actors, costumes and set design would have to make Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull proud from an economic point of view.  But he’ll have to rethink his position on same-sex marriage, methinks. 

And, as usual for Sydney Theatre Company productions, the program provides excellent background research material including an extract from Behind the Mask: The Life of Vita Sackville-West by Matthew Dennison.  Background notes tell us “Orlando (1928) was written for and dedicated to Vita Sackville-West whom Virginia met in 1922.  Somewhere between 1925 and 1929, their friendship developed into a love affair.”  The highlighted quote from Dennison fills in the picture: “...the catalyst for Vita’s sexual epiphany was a uniform of breeches and leather gaiters.  She would wear it for the rest of her life.”

So don’t miss Orlando, and make sure you take the extra $10 for the program.

Photos by Prudence Upton













 










 © Frank McKone, Canberra











Saturday, 14 November 2015

2015: My Zinc Bed by David Hare


My Zinc Bed by David Hare.  Ensemble Theatre, Sydney, directed by Mark Kilmurry.  Designer – Tobhiyah Stone Feller; Lighting – Nicholas Higgins; Wardrobe – Alana Canceri; Make-up – Peggy Carter.  October 10 – November 22, 2015.

Reviewed by Frank McKone
November 14

It’s not clear to me why Victor Quinn (one-time British Communist, but nowadays – in the year 2000 – a wealthy financier) refers to his death bed as his ‘zinc’ bed.  Maybe it’s a reference to commodity prices: if the price of zinc falls, he is ‘dead’. 

But the deathly pallor of the metal might be an image of the mortuary bench on which  Quinn would have been laid out after his car crash.  Suicide?  Very likely. 

Especially since the play is horribly prescient of the Global Financial Crisis of 2008.

It’s easy to focus on the superficial question posed by Paul (poet – but only when he’s drunk) and Victor’s wife Elsa, already with two children and ruined by alcohol and drugs when he, Victor, rescued her from the floor of a bar in Denmark.  Is it really true that alcoholism is a disease which can be managed or cured – by Alcoholics Anonymous – or is this obsession built into some people’s genetic structure? 

Many others over its fifteen year life thought that was what the play is about, but I saw David Hare using alcoholism as just one example of obsessive human behaviour.  Others in this play are sexual lust – or falling in love – and power, which Victor epitomises, whether as Communist or financier, employer (of Paul) or husband.  He crashes when can no longer believe he is in control of any of these things – even including alcohol, five times over the legal driving limit in his bloodstream.

Not a very happy play, but Mark Kilmurry succeeds in making clear to his audience (and we do listen to a lot of talk) what is actually going on in the feelings of each character.

Danielle Carter plays Elsa Quinn with an awareness of her previous degradation, reliance on Victor and attraction for Paul which leaves us wishing she could do more than outwardly present the calmness and dignity she knows she needs for the sake of her children.

Sam O’Sullivan as Paul Peplow is physically almost as floppy as he is indeterminate mentally while maintaining AA rules; but when he drinks he becomes the sexual being, and poet, that Elsa can’t resist.

Sean Taylor as Victor is made up and dressed in absolute contrast to Paul’s pale and wan poet.  He has the presence and voice of authority about him – yet every now and then he senses his own insecurity.  Like when he makes and drinks a margarita or three.

However unhappy the play, this production is satisfying theatre.  This cast and this director have found the trick of David Hare’s writing, so that we both appreciate and even empathise with each character equally, and yet remain at just enough distance to see each in a clear objective light.

And in doing so, we see Hare’s purpose: to show how our natural human tendencies lead us, sometimes, into ineffable difficulties – in our personal lives as we interact with the world at large.  We need more than a version of Alcoholics Anonymous to save ourselves from a Global Financial Crisis.  Revelatory group meetings in a circle can become addictive, but can they permanently solve our behavioural contradictions?

This a worthwhile production of a significant play.



© Frank McKone, Canberra

2015: Mortido by Angela Betzien






Mortido by Angela Betzien.  Presented by Belvoir and State Theatre Company of South Australia, directed by Leticia Cáceres.  Set and Costume design – Robert Cousins; Lighting – Geoff Cobham; Composer – The Sweats; Sound design – Nate Edmondson; Movement – Scott Witt.  November 11 – December 17, 2015.

Reviewed by Frank McKone
November 14

Unfortunately, despite the author’s idea of a grand theme – I wonder, is the destructive drive of mortido in all of us?  Is it symbiotically linked with our drive for life, for self-preservation? – her play as staged in this joint production by the SA State Theatre and Belvoir is theatric rather than dramatic, simplistic rather than thematic.

The Currency Press blurb (you buy the whole script with the program for $13) reveals the problem.  “This is Betzien’s most ambitious play so far, and a brilliant portrait of the Emerald City: familiar, bizarre, glorious and mean.  A quintessential Sydney tale about crime, globalisation and the killer desire for a bigger house.”  My emphasis: it’s situational television, not the serious drama the blood and gore or the revelation of criminal behaviour pretends to be.

On stage, Detective Grubbe begins by telling a long Mexican story, the myth of El Gallito, the boy who comes back from the dead, to revenge his killing by drug-runners.  The central character is a Sydney school-dropout Jimmy, who is pressured by his brother-in-law Monte to carry out day-to-day cocaine importing work.  Monte is wealthy, living in Woollahra, married to Jimmy’s sister Scarlet.

In Act Two, the script reads:  EL GALLITO enters the bathroom.  He goes to the urinals.  JIMMY is hyper-aware of EL GALLITO’s presence, but MONTE ignores him.

I may be super-insensitive, but without my script in hand I took the appearance of this young man visiting the toilet apparently in a Sydney night-club to be no more than ordinary.  He stood beside Jimmy, facing the mirror.  JIMMY turns to look at him.  EL GALLITO leaves without looking at JIMMY.

This figure mysteriously appears, in Sydney, Germany or South America, only speaking Spanish, until Jimmy kills El Gallito.  Watching, I had no idea beyond a vague inkling that I was supposed to interpret this figure somehow – perhaps as a homosexual decoy in the business of drug dealing.  At the end, Grubbe completes the story he began four acts ago, about the death of La Madre, El Gallito’s mother.

On stage I thought I saw the anonymous Spanish-speaking man kill Jimmy, yet in the script I read They fall together.  EL GALLITO is dead.  Then I’m told: AT LA MADRE’S FUNERAL IN PUNCHBOWL, JIMMY listens as GRUBBE finishes the story.  Then JIMMY leaves the marigold flowers and is gone. GRUBBE remains.

Only by reading the script can I see what the author was trying to do: to turn a grubby cocaine importing business operating in Sydney suburbs into a story of mythical proportions.  This was why scenes were cued in by loud noises and flashes, perhaps of lightning.  That was why the blood and gore from the Spanish man’s box cutter was draped around Jimmy’s body as if in some kind of ceremony, and the Spanish man moved in the manner of a bull-fighter.  Perhaps.

I’m used to interpreting all kinds of theatrical imagery, but this one lost me.  There was no empathy for any of the characters, not even Jimmy.  Just a display of theatrics in a story that made almost no sense – without knowing at least who the anonymous Spanish speaking man was and what exactly was said.  And there were many more mysteries, about Oliver, Scarlet’s son, the German who seemed to be the mastermind (in Bolivia after WWII), Monte’s mother (the one buried at Punchbowl) and more.

Angela Betzien writes “Writing Mortido has been a thrilling adventure and I’m proud to say I’ve travelled to every location in the story: from the barrios of Mexico, to the hipster hub of Kreuzberg, from La Paz down El Camino de la Muerte to Coroico, and from a CBD nightclub to the pho-infused backstreets of Cabramatta....I’d like to thank everyone for joining me on this wild ride.”

Despite her enthusiasm, the experience for me was more confusion than wild. Leticia Cáceres’ Director’s Notes say “For me, making Mortido has been a process of distillation, of creating space for audiences to exercise their own imaginations.  Every step of the way we’ve asked ourselves: what elements do we really need to tell this tale?  To what extent can we trust the audience to listen, to feel, to know, to put the pieces of the puzzle together?”

I listened, I didn’t feel much, and I failed to put the pieces together.  Sigmund Freud’s idea of ‘mortido’ was always a bit weird, explained by Betzien as ‘the theory of the death drive, the instinct of all living things to return to an inanimate state’.  I wouldn’t put too much trust in that bit of imagination.


Tom Conroy as Jimmy, David Valencia as El Gallito
Photo by Brett Boardman


© Frank McKone, Canberra

Saturday, 7 November 2015

2015: Paying the Piper: There has to be a Better Way by Cathy Hunt. Commentary.


Paying the Piper: There has to be a Better Way by Cathy Hunt.  Platform Papers No 45, Currency House, November 2015.

Commentary by Frank McKone

There are three aspects of Cathy Hunt’s detailed essay which need discussion:

What are The Arts for?

What roles have Australian governments played in the past?

What should Australian governments do next?

Her concluding section 7. Changing the paradigm: The Money Story begins:

“If we truly want our artists to succeed and to be recognised at home and overseas for their excellence and if we want our citizens actively engaged in arts and cultural activities in building strong healthy communities, then we need resilient organisations and a stable environment from which to create, experiment and grow.”

This is what The Arts are for.  I begin by wondering if mental boundaries are being set up here which don’t suit the amorphous shape of human art – should I be singing “Don’t fence me in”?

But then I think about what Aboriginal people call ‘culture’.  I’m an outsider to that culture, though I’ve been entertained and educated by Aboriginal artists in many forms.  It seems to me that their arts are so integrated into daily life that each artist (and this seems to mean most members, at least in more traditional communities) both works within cultural boundaries and also as an individual creating new interpretations which move boundaries in new directions – even across the major boundary dog-fence of the overwhelming invasion of the country and into the lives of the invaders, including me.

Have Aboriginal people ever needed to pose the question “If we truly want our artists...then....?"  I think not.  Art has just been there, always, and always will be.  If “we” have to pose the “If we want” type of question, we are presupposing that most people in our culture are separated, maybe “divorced”, from being artists. 

I think this goes to the heart of the issues raised in Cathy Hunt’s paper about what governments have done and might do in future.  For Aboriginal peoples, culture is central and all-encompassing in all governance matters.  Our Governments confine our arts to a small box at the bottom of a jumbled pile of supposedly much more serious weighty concerns. 

This was particularly harshly demonstrated in the recent Abbott-led cabinet arrangement where The Arts, usually at least a minor attachment to some vaguely related portfolio like Sports and Education, was given to the Attorney-General, would you believe?  At the A-G’s whim, money was hived off from the Australia Council to set up his favourite thing (you can sing this while dancing across green mountainsides)  the National Program for Excellence in the Arts.

Since the change in leadership, The Arts are now with Senator the Hon Mitchell Peter (Mitch) Fifield, Minister Assisting the Prime Minister for Digital Government, Minister for Communications, Minister for the Arts, and Manager of Government Business in the Senate.  Note the order of the boxes in this pile.

Good luck, I guess, to Cathy Hunt’s very sensible proposals about what our government should do with its money, but I have doubts that the core cultural paradigm is shifting.  I doubt our political decision makers will really understand that The Arts are central to everybody’s life, not to be mentally boxed and paid for simply to achieve political ends like being “recognised at home and overseas for their excellence” or “building strong healthy communities”. 

The Arts are an end in themselves.  Historically they do build communities, but who’s to say what “healthy” means?  Or what “excellence” consists of?  Glib words, but should governments be determining definitions?

I’m not criticising Cathy Hunt here, because her business-like analysis is concrete and realistic, reaching probably the best conclusions we can expect of our society.

I recall the excitement of establishing the Australia Council at arms length from political interference in 1967, the time of flowering of the rumbustious new wave in Australian Theatre.  Hunt usefully compares us with UK and Canada, but that bit of governmental history made us unique.  That peer-to-peer administration in The Arts (not ‘of’ The Arts), even though the money was never enough, was what made my small contribution more than a self-indulgent lifestyle choice (to quote one-time PM Tony Abbott, talking about outback Aboriginal communities). 

For nearly 50 years we have had the freedom to push against artistic boundaries, bend them and cross them, and the result is an Australian arts community writ large in a way that seemed impossible when I began teaching in 1963.

So where are we now after this year’s self-indulgence on the part of the Attorney-General.  According to Hunt, George Brandis in the May 2015 budget “announced that $123.3 million would be removed from the Australia Council budget allocation over four years, of which a proportion would be placed at the disposal of the Minister himself for the purpose of creating a new National Program for Excellence in the Arts.”

This is where Cathy Hunt excels.  She states firmly: “I don’t believe we need a review of the Australia Council and what it does. That has been done, a new governance model established and a new strategic plan developed based on extensive consultation with the sector and endorsed by the sitting government [before the May 2015 budget], and it was on the verge of being implemented [including an innovative six-year funding program]. The Council’s need for additional investment to undertake the work required was clearly articulated through that process.  But we may need a very different type of organisation from the one that is currently legislated for—one that can:

• Plan effectively for the future and for its entire budget and operations, without fear of unilateral intervention from the responsible Minister;
• Rely on diverse sources of financial input, so that it itself is less vulnerable to change, through partnerships with the private sector and the development of new investment mechanisms;
• Provide a range of different investment opportunities for the sector beyond grants,
working with other finance providers to create specific products of benefit to artists and arts organisations;
• Invest in the long-term resilience of artists and arts organisations without always requiring direct immediate program outcomes in return;
• Work with a new industry body and policy institute on research which will report on the impacts of the sector, provide the best possible advice to government on how best to invest in the sector and provide the best value for money;
• Be at the forefront of reporting its achievements through an integrated financial reporting mechanism which can measure all aspects of cultural, social and economic value from its investments to all partners.”

And, Hunt asks:

“So what are the conditions required to enable that vision for a ‘culturally ambitious nation’ to be fulfilled? There are three core ideas for any federal government action that I want to reiterate here:

• Take a whole view of the broad cultural economy as expressed in the UNESCO
framework. Stop treating the arts as a marginal venture. Establish a cultural ministry, which will, as one of its first steps, contribute to a Productivity Commission inquiry into the scale, contribution, and support systems required to facilitate that economy.
• Adopt contemporary funding and financing practices where collaboration is key. Bring together some of the best financial minds in the country to develop some concrete proposals along the lines proposed in this paper, from new forms of taxation to developing a significant endowment or ‘Future Fund’ for the arts.
• Build the Australia Council into a body which can truly invest in and develop a ‘culturally ambitious nation’ in partnership with the states and territories and the growing philanthropic sector in Australia; with access to diversified streams of funding as with Arts Council England and the Canada Council for the Arts.  Fund for resilience not for dependency.”

If there is any chance of shifting the paradigm, it seems to me that Cathy Hunt lays down for government the practicalities of how it may be achieved.  And, as her final sentence says:

Let the actions of the last few months be a wake-up call to all concerned with the future of Australian arts and culture.
 

BRISBANE: Launch of PAYING THE PIPER: There has to be a better way with Cathy Hunt in conversation with Professor Judith McLean
   When: 6pm, Thursday 12 November 2015
   Where: Brisbane Powerhouse, Park Mezzanine, 119 Lamington St, New Farm
   All welcome. Essential to book at info@currencyhouse.org.au  mailto:info@currencyhouse.org.au

MELBOURNE: Launch of PAYING THE PIPER with keynote address from Cathy Hunt at the Victorian Theatre Forum and in conversation with Julian Meyrick
   When: 11am, Tuesday 17 November 2015
   Where: The Coopers Malthouse, Sturt St, Southbank
   Media welcome. Contact Nicole Beyer mailto:nicole@tnv.net.au

Media enquiries to Martin Portus mailto:mportus@optusnet.com.au  or 0401 360 806.




© Frank McKone, Canberra