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Will Pickvance: Wonky Summerhall Will Pickvance – pianist, storyteller, entertainer – presents “Wonky” combining playful performance and engaging storytelling in this Edinburgh Fringe show.  After seeing First Piano on the Moon  last year (and loving it), “Wonky” was high on my list of must see shows.   Put Will Pickvance in front of a piano and watch the extemporised fireworks explode. There’s no genre he won’t cross into or attempt to fuse with any other in a free-flowing equivalent to a musical waterfall. And “Wonky” is no exception.  Not a show for families especially (although I think young audience members couldn’t help but be charmed by Will) ‘Wonky” is an antidote to the hustle and bustle of the Edinburgh fringe streets.  A place and time to retreat, briefly, and be transported through the creative meanderings of a very talented man. We enter the darkened theatre – on an empty stage sits an upright piano covered with a canvas. A ragged stool sits nearby.  A tall lamp with fringed shade completes the picture.  Pickvance enters and clicks his fingers.  The lights snap black. He clicks his fingers again and the lights come on.  He tells us that on a first date the datees minds are made up very quickly about each other and regardless of those thoughts must enjoy or endure the next hour together.  We are a very small audience, and I wonder what he thinks of us.  He removes the canvas from the piano with a flourish and describes the life of a gigging musician when they first encounter their piano for the night in a new venue. It turns out he knows this piano very well as it is his.  And the lamp is his as is the stool.  All part of the fabric of this event about to unfold. In a lose collection of stories we learn about his childhood and playing the piano with his father. Something that his father had done with his father.  A tradition.  In doing so he deconstructs Goethe/Schubert song “Erlkönig”. “Erlkönig” dramatizes the tale of a father and his son riding home on horseback during a stormy night. The boy hears the cajoling voice of the Elf-King and attempts several times to alert his father that this evil supernatural being is attempting to take him away. As a young boy, his dad stood over the record player commentating in real-time on what it all meant; a father charging on horseback through the woods late at night with his son who is delirious. They’d perform it themselves - Will at the piano trying desperately to keep up with his dad’s theatrical rendition and uneven German. It is dramatic, gripping and alive.  I wondered at this stage whether the show was to be about fathers and sons but it’s a loose thread.  Pickvance does tell a story of visiting his grandfather in what seems like his end days and playing for him while under the influence of the drug ecstasy and his grandfather’s please for him to not let him die in hospital. The family stories are moving for all the reasons family stories are.  But that’s not all…   Pickvance, we learn, worked briefly for an Elvis tribute band, as a resident musician at Skibo Castle in Dornoch, Scotland (it’s where Madonna got married to Guy Richie).  He explains the beauty of “The Blue Danube”. He slams “Moonlight Sonata” through a jazz sieve and smashes “Like a Virgin” with a wedding march. Combining epic musical improvisation and intimate story telling are Will Pickvance’s calling card.  It’s a brilliant hour of time standing still – I hear that one performance he went 20 minutes over time simply because no one told him to stop. I really want to see and hear more around the deeper thread of fathers and sons, of growing up gifted and what it costs to realise your dreams … but for now, “Wonky” is a generous gift for all those who can hear it.  Recommended!   Kate Gaul

Precious Cargo Summerhall   How would you feel if you had grown up in a country in which you had no biological or cultural connections?   The fall of Saigon was the capture of Saigon, the capital of South Vietnam, by North Vietnam and the Viet Cong on 30 April 1975. The event marked the end of the Vietnam War and the collapse of the South Vietnamese state, leading to a transition period and the formal reunification of Vietnam into the Socialist Republic of Vietnam under communist rule on 2 July 1976.   “Operation Babylift” was the name given to the mass evacuation of children from South Vietnam to Australia and other western countries (including USA, France, West Germany, and Canada) at the end of the Vietnam War on April 3–26, 1975. By the final American flight out of South Vietnam, over 3,300 infants and children had been airlifted, although the actual number has been variously reported. Along with “Operation New Life”, over 110,000 refugees were evacuated from South Vietnam at the end of the Vietnam War. Thousands of children were airlifted from Vietnam and adopted by families around the world.   “Precious Cargo” grew out of a chance meeting in autumn 2021. Australian actor Barton Williams, a Vietnam war orphan, was visiting Lewis as one of the cast of “Silent Roar”, a feature film about Hebridean surfers. Both had been raised by white families, growing up as virtually the only Asian child in small, overwhelmingly white communities, with no connection to their Vietnamese language or heritage. Both had later travelled back to Vietnam in the hope of finding their biological families but had returned home with no answers – a common experience for adoptees, so much information having been lost in the chaos of war.   As the audience enter, we are confronted with a stage, strewn with cardboard boxes, the setting for the most extraordinary of human stories. During “Operation Babylift” infants were transported in cardboard boxes and packed onto planes.  Vintage film projected onto the boxes is haunting. Barton Williams performs this one-person documentary play which tells the story of the lives of six Vietnam war adoptees and how they were always connected. Some have discovered biological connections across the globe, many have not.  It’s a challenging story of children born into a world at war and a seering reminder of our need to know where we are from.   Barton tells his story with characteristic Australian larrikinisms; his challenge to become an Aussie nipper; the love he held for his adoptive mother in particular and her unwavering belief in him.  This is a lesser-known Australian story but it is clearly that of literally thousands. It deserves to be heard far and wide and let’s hope it makes its way back to Australia. Kate Gaul

1 in a Chameleon Summerhall A woman in a lurid and extremely well-made chameleon costume stands at the back of the theatre. It includes a full head dress and tail.  She is awkward, unsure and makes an easy connection with the audience as we share our various discomforts.  This is Narie Foster.  Who is she?  A quick google reveals: The systems engineer and former management consultant at Bain & Co. is responsible for product management and operations at M.M. LaFleur, the New York-based e-commerce company outfitting professional women with 4-6 piece 'Bento boxes' of stylish clothes. On stage Narie tells us she is Brooklynite, American, Irish, Canadian, Thai, engineer, entrepreneur, woman, theatre nerd… these are the clubs that Foster is part of, but does she belong in them? This is a piece – neither drama, essay or TED talk – that covers identity, acceptance and (literally, in this chameleon’s case) shedding one’s skin. “1 in a Chameleon” investigates the natural tension between wanting to belong and wanting to be authentically ourselves. The hour is gently comedic, heartfelt and intelligent.  Narie wants to be vulnerable with us, dance with us, laugh and cry with us. Digging into her life story she ponders the concept of belonging and how identity is shaped. It is entirely enthralling. The audience is 100% engaged and when volunteers are called for there is no hesitation from the house. The monologue is released as if thoughts are just occurring to Narie – it has a ramshackle feel that is endearing once we accept that this isn’t our “usual” comedic theatre experience.   Before she resolves the identity crisis, she is confronted with another question: “On a scale of 0 to 10, how free are you intuitively?” Foster recreates moments of her life where she had felt freedom at each value. Her genuine and emotional storytelling compels the audience to root for her that she will one day experience freedom at 10. Narie now advises early-stage startups, teaches and mentors entrepreneurs, and incubates new projects. She considers herself an expert generalist and particularly loves organizing chaos, learning about human behaviour, and solving problems that require both art and science. Outside of the business world, Narie can be found writing, running, turning lunch meetings into philosophical conversations, and helping her scientist parents build an unusual retirement house in the Pacific Northwest. When she cannot be found, it’s because she’s off exploring somewhere new. “1 in a Chameleon” feels like one of her unusual adventures in which she finds willing audiences to reflect to her where she is at. Is it theatre?  I guess we are in a deep phase of personal, intimate story telling in this space. Everyone has a story and “1 in a Chameleon” reminds us that unearthing our hidden stories is valuable.  The final images of Nari embracing her Thai heritage with full costume is both moving and revelatory.  Kate Gaul

My English Persian Kitchen Traverse Theatre “My English Persian Kitchen” is by playwright Hannah Khalil and based on a story by food writer Atoosa Sepehr. The show weaves together the story of a woman fleeing her marriage in Iran to England with the cooking of traditional Ash Reshteh, a Persian noodle soup filled with red onion, garlic, beans, chickpeas and green lentils, and fragrant with fresh herbs: mint, parsley and dill. A large kitchen counter with working hob sits centre stage and to one side a tall white fridge. As we enter the theatre actor Isabella Nefar stands at a kitchen counter, dicing and chopping.  Once the house lights go down, she explains that women in Iran pursue education and career and that they often don’t cook, or tell people they don’t, to avoid becoming overwhelmed with domestic tasks. It’s fascinating to watch someone actually wield a knife, mash garlic and measure ingredients all while performing for an audience.  And of course, the fragrances of these fresh and wonderful foods fill the auditorium. This is the present. Without warning the scenario flicks to the past and the kitchen bench and fridge is transformed in an airport, a taxi, a bedroom.  The fridge becomes a doorway, projection surface, a sanctuary or prison. Supported by a brilliant sound design (Dan Balfour) and unsettling lighting (Marty Langthorne) we are immediately transported. In December 2007, Atoosa Sepehr arrived in the UK from Iran, knowing no one, her life ahead a blank sheet. She was 30 years old, fleeing a disastrous marriage and her escape was an overnight flit. She’d packed in under an hour, was driven to Tehran at speed by her mother, bought a ticket in cash and raced through departures. In Iran, divorce wasn’t easy without a husband’s agreement, which Sepehr knew her husband would never give. He also holds the power to ban his wife from leaving the country. What has happened to our protagonist is never made explicit, but we have enough information to know that her delicate strategy for escape was indeed touch and go.  Arriving in the UK she confronts the polite and distant coldness of her neighbours as she begins her life again.  It is though the power of communal invitation to a meal that she makes change. In this story of survival, we cannot help but be moved by the challenges of hearing of a young woman doing it alone. The cooking of the meal onstage – which must proceed logically and methodically – is in contrast to the chaotic and non-linear imaginative story telling. Isabella Nefar’s restraint is a pleasure to share. The production does feel as if it meanders at times but the central idea of food, community and creating a home is powerful.  As we are brought together as community in the theatre there is no better way of concluding the production than with the shared meal.  Audiences are invited to gather around the kitchen bench to sample the Ash Reshteh and in the foyer, there is another batch to share.  It really is delicious.  Kate Gaul

BAMBILAND Zoo Southside “Bambiland” is a play by Austrian playwright and novelist Elfriede Jelinek, winner of the 2004 Nobel Prize in Literature. She was awarded for for her "musical flow of voices and counter-voices in novels and plays that with extraordinary linguistic zeal reveal the absurdity of society's clichés and their subjugating power."  At that time, “Bambiland” caused a sensation because of its protest against the Guantanamo Bay prison.  Typical Jelinek’s style, there are numerous acts of violence, both physical and sexual. It’s the kind of play that is rarely seen in performance (and never in Australia).  The text is a bold exploration of the war of words and images that shape our perception of global conflicts. It is intellectually astute and at the pointy end of theatre nerds and academics. It is quite something to see it on stage today. It is a must-see for those interested in contemporary theatre, and those keen to connect with haunting resonances of contemporary history. “Bambiland" confronts disturbing realities of war and media today. This enthralling production at Zoo Southside is best described an experience rather than “another night at the theatre”. It’s not easy. We are told “Elfriede Jelinek’s text dismantles the global media war machine as accounts of Iraq's invasion collapse into a child refugees’ memories of the Bosnian War.” This Edinburgh Fringe production is the UK premiere of “Bambiland”, an adaptation of translated by Lilian M. Banks. This solo performance, performed by Jelena Bašić, and directed by Peter Lorenz.  It is a harrowing examination of modern warfare and media representation which interweaves stark accounts of the Iraq war with Bašić's personal memories and experiences as a child refugee during the Bosnian war. As the lines between reality and illusion blur, the question arises if the possibility of peace is even still thinkable.  Jelena Bašić uses everyday objects to tell her story – tin cans, photographs, hand torch, plastic bags and a pile of toy soldiers.  Live video projects what is created by miniatures on the floor. The violent acts of representations are played back on video, and we find ourselves immersed in this battle of toy soldiers. There are incredible images created that last long after the show has ended. Now based in Edinburgh, Jelena Bašić is a regular performer with Mischief LaBas and Surge as well as running her own theatre workshops for refugees and directing “Don Quixotte Rides Again” which plays at the Scottish Storytelling Centre as part of the Edinburgh Festival Fringe.    Thought-provoking tensions between what is true and what is real on-stage leaves audiences reflecting on the violent act of representation and the cyclical nature of war owing much to the ancient Greek theatre. As Middle Eastern deserts and the siege of Sarajevo bleed into each other on stage, the distinction between “us” and “them” dissolves, presenting a powerful commentary on ongoing conflicts and the very words we have available to describe them.   In a nutshell: harrowing, intruiging, dense and performed with great charm by Jelena Bašić. Kate Gaul

It’s always a treat to see Australian artists in Edinburgh – especially when the work is of the calibre of Leah Shelton’s “Batshit”.   Leah Shelton – doyenne of the Australian theatre. From her website – “Psycho-siren Leah Shelton creates stylized, guttural, renegade feminist work soaked in cult references and dark humour. Her work has taken her from the glamour of Las Vegas to the back streets of Kings Cross, from rigorous training in Japan to live art festivals in New York.” And directed than none other than the undeniable Ursula Martinez –“Ursula Martinez fuses theatrical concepts, personal experience and popular forms to create innovative challenging, experimental theatre that is highly entertaining and reflective of our contemporary, post-modern world. At the core of the work is a commitment to exploring humour and what it is to be human.” Theatrical royalty at the Traverse Theatre.  Heaven! “Batshit” is inspired by Leah’s grandmother’s experiences of mental illness and forced medical treatment in the 1960s. It is a kind of love letter to Gwen (her grandmother) and to all women who are (mis)diagnosed with mental illness, hysteria and/or called crazy whatever the era. From ordinary housewives to world leaders, women are subject to patriarchal pathologisation, dismissed or silenced.  "Women are often framed as hysterical, irrational, mentally ill in a court of law as a way of undermining their credibility or they are seen to be imagining symptoms in a medical system. They're also twice as likely to be diagnosed with depression, anxiety, panic disorder, phobias, suicidal ideation, suicide attempts, eating disorders and PTSD, and seven times more likely to be diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, so it’s fair to say it’s a long-standing systemic problem." (Leah Shelton interview for Melbourne Fringe) “Batshit” not just female empowerment on stage this is a battle cry for change! The feel of the show is somewhere between cabaret, performance art and solo drama.  It begins in a Lynchian nightmare of seductive image, unsettling lighting, lip synched classics.  Leah Shelton moves like a dream.  The rigorous control she has over her body and other performance elements are echoed through the intelligent direction – there’s A LOT going on here, but it’s delivered with a light touch. All text is projected, and the content includes detailed medical records, song lyrics, last century and contemporary vox pops coming to us through an ancient TV, live video. Recordings of Shelton’s mother talking about Gwen are particularly moving.  Shelton begins dressed in gorgeous green cocktail mid-century cocktail frock and bits of straight jacket-like wraps; there’s a nurse uniform; a petticoat and finally as herself – vulnerable, powerful, dangerous! Oftentimes personal stories become confessional and ultimately a bit dreary.  But not “Batshit” – its distilling important issues. The canvas is large, but the story has an intimacy to it.  It is also immediate. In the modern day vox-pops both women and men are asked to describe who is crazy: Britany Spears comes up a lot. Don’t be loud, opinionated, brilliant or what to change the world.  Don’t demand things for yourself. Keep quiet.  Keep still. Are you crazy? Told with humour, honour, mountains of skill and imagination ‘Batshit” is also a bit of a tearjerker. And the notion of “taking and axe” to a problem will never be the same again. Beyond fabulous and earned a standing ovation! Kate Gaul (Image Supplied)

Singer-actor-raconteur Salty Brine in “Contents of my Head (The Annie Lennox Show)” melds a magic melange of personal influences that weave a captivating performance. There’s Annie Lennox – specifically, her 1992 solo album “Diva”; Edna, the protagonist of Kate Chopin’s feminist novel “The Awakening”; Judy Garland; the performer’s mother; and Salty Brine himself. This is cabaret but not as we know it. High camp, drama, confession and wit, you just GOT TO SEE THIS SHOW. Beyond fabulous vocals and a kick arse MD (Ben Langhorst) combine for a non-stop 90 minutes that fly by!  There is a young band of musicians – drums, bass, brass and woodwind; there are striking costumes and at the centre a gorgeous performance. Value for your GBP! Salty Brine makes shows built around a classic pop album in each edition of his “Living Record Collection” cabaret series which weaves songs into perceptive tapestries of storytelling. He’s covered Cyndi Lauper, Radiohead and the Beatles in the past. Playing Assembly Checkpoint. An unexpected pleasure to start the Edinburgh Fringe Festival viewing odyssey! Created and performed by Salty Brine Directed by Shaun Peknic Arrangements and Music Direction by Ben Langhorst Production Design by Christopher BowserCostume Design by Kate Fry   Kate Gaul

Consecutive Fringe First winners  Natasha Roland and Xhloe Rice  return to the Edinburgh Fringe in 2024. Last year’s “And Then the Rodeo Burned Down” was an absolute corker so I couldn’t wait to see this piece (one of two productions the team present this year). Natasha Roland and Xhloe Rice are a New York City based, writer/performer company of two who have collaborated for over a decade, creating clownesque absurdist physical theatre. “What if They Ate the Baby? is a queer theatrical dystopia, probing a relationship of two American housewives (Dottie and Shirley), trapped in a shared liminal space of a suburban household and their own love affair. Post second world war feminism, the stay-at-home mum and the American Dream are all under examination here. It’s not particularly ground-breaking stuff – that is, until you experience the Roland and Rice spin on these themes. On a black and white checkerboard floor with a table and chair and a lace curtained window the women wear pastel-coloured frocks with stiff petticoats and neat hair. Everything is perfect.  But the frocks are smeared with green paint, there’s bright green spaghetti for dinner and the window is wonky.  Throbbing grunge music interpolates and accompanies these women’s feverish queer fantasies. Subversion is the name of the game here and picture-perfect lives become sinister, scary, exciting.  Roland and Rice are compelling and confident writers.  Having created the mundane lives of Dottie and Shirley we then spiral into an absurdist world (in both the existential and Dada-ist sense).  Story and dialogue circle, become repeated with lines swapped between the characters. It’s like we are listening into a conversation through a wall and now piecing it together in three dimensions. Meaning is broken and accumulates. Roland and Rice have something to say about the secret lives of women and the skill to have it sing! That the writing is so good makes this work unique amongst productions employing clowning, comedy and physical techniques. The signature discipline, physicality and play are wildly entertaining. These are highly skilled performers who leave me squealing with delight (internally!)  With flair and wit, they deliciously overturn what we “normally” see in the theatre. Form and function come together beautifully. After the masculine world of rough and tumble clown cowboys in “And Then the Rodeo Burned Down” it is a delight to see the pair explore femininity.  But then the hyper masculine cowboy and housewife are both “performing”, right? Percolating themes of surveillance, paranoia, capitalism all orbit a queer centre. The work is political with a light touch. It could be interesting to see if Roland and Rice could sharpen their political darts without losing any of the play. The company’s new show “A Letter to Lyndon B Johnson or God: whoever Reads this First” is highly anticipated. “What if They Ate the Baby?” has a limited run at the fringe this year.  Playing theSpace@Niddry St. Catch it if you can! Review by Kate Gaul

Pony Cam state they are “driven by a desire to bring people together to create experiences that could not otherwise be had. By subverting well-known forms, activating unexpected spaces, and inviting audiences into our work in unexpected ways, we create moments where audiences are challenged to question their assumptions, laugh at themselves, and reject habitual recourse. The current line up for Pony Cam is Claire Bird, Ava Campbell, William Strom, Dominic Weintraub and Hugo Williams.”   Pony Cam are the Melbourne-based mavericks of mayhem in this inspired, crazy and thought-provoking show, “Burnout Paradise”.  Coming off strong Melbourne seasons and Grant Theft Theatre  (which won a “Best in Fringe” prize in Melbourne and enjoyed a follow-up season as part of Adelaide Festival this year) Pony Cam’s Sydney premiere  Burnout Paradise  harnesses their success to explore theatrical ambiguity, and the possibility of theatrical failure. It is billed as a physical celebration that comes with burnout. Additionally, this is an examination of the excruciating torture of living as an artist in Australia who must leap through metaphorical hoops to barely survive.  Life is dangerous, cruel and fuelled with impossible tasks against time.  So, Pony Cam made a show about it.   Four skinny performers take it in turns to cook a three-course meal (served to two audience members by the end of the show), stage a heartfelt performance that is related to their childhood, start and finish a grant application to Charles Sturt University, and complete a list of everyday leisure tasks with an abundance of props.  And all of this on individual treadmills with the added handle to aim for a combined kilometre tally that beats what has been achieved the night before – or risk the audience receiving a ticket refund. A fifth member is side of stage with a laptop, running the show, keeping score and serving Gatorade (and selling the merch!) Audience members jump to their feet to assist (no one is obliged to do so). The rapport that Pony Cam establishes is essential to the game. The cast is stuck on their respective treadmills, so it’s up to the audience to get them their props, ingredients, and supplies. It’s a lot of fun, we cheer and whoop as the tasks are completed or not.  Once we understand the format there is a sense of waning and I for one longed for a deeper exploration of burnout because it is real, shattering and deathly.  But “Burnout Paradise” isn’t going there.  I read on the company website that the show is described by the team as “an unravelling realisation that the systems we participate in are not designed for us”.  But the night I saw the show the team did succeed in exceeding their goals – so are they designed for this system?  But I applaud the mental and physical stamina this event requires. The company faces a gruelling season in Edinburgh this August.  They may push their limits there and it will be interesting to see what Scottish audiences make of it all.   Review by Kate Gaul Image Supplied

[YOUR NAME] KXT [YOUR NAME] is the latest divertissement from Purple Tape Productions at KXT.   Writer Kate Bubalo has a background in sketch writing and comedy as well as performing both.  They completed [YOUR NAME], their first play, as part of their MFA at NIDA and it has been shortlisted for a Griffin Award. [YOUR NAME], uses the existence of fan fiction and the rise of the internet for its dissemination to create an hilarious dramedy. Fan fiction is a type of writing that responds to something else like a book, a TV show or a film. People write fan fiction because they are big fans of their chosen story and want to create more of it.because they are big fans of their chosen story and want to create more of it. Three teenagers are creating a Harry Potter-esque fanfic. The world of Harry Potter fan fiction is rich and diverse, expanding on beloved characters and exploring new paths. When this erotic (and smutty!) fan fic is accidentally submitted to their PDHPE teacher, things start getting interesting. They continue writing their fanfic whilst their relationships between each other start to break down. At a serious level, the play is asking questions about the sexuality and sexualisation of teenage girls, the importance of fantasy in our lives, how stories can have a life of their own and the dangers, delights and everything in between of the internet. It’s funny. The play feels overly long in production and would benefit from another draft following this outing to tighten up the drama. Lily Hayman directs and, alongside intimacy coordinator Shondelle Pratt, has shaped some gloriously comic sex scenes with an extraordinary cast who throw themselves into this heightened and fantastic world.  Andrew Fraser is without doubt doing a lot of the heavy lifting as the only male onstage.  As PDHPE teacher, Mr Isaacs, he grapples with the complexity of teaching sex education in an all-girls school and then discovering he is the object of their internet fantasy.  It is a detailed, physical, spirited, and nothing-short-of-camp-when-necessary performance. Evelina Singh shines as schoolgirl Petra who pens the first hot chapter of the story. Their incredible charisma, skill and unique creativity are on high beam as we watch them relish this role. Lola Bond plays cry-baby Kris - who accidentally submits the fanfic to Mr Isaacs rather than the required assignment - and the character’s anxiety is palpable.  Georgia McGinness plays the more sober Nadine.  All three women get to play their mothers too in an outrageous scene when Mr Isaacs has summoned adults to the fray.  McGinness and Bond are particularly revelatory. Closing words from producer and director Lily Hayman seem apt: "The play is pure joy; it is an ode to those who grew up around the internet in the 2010-2016 era (me for real). The play is witty, erotic, and energetic. We are laughing along (and at) the characters and situations throughout the play. But underneath all the crazy magic and special effects (think Cursed Child on a KXT budget) lies a compelling message about the lives of young women and their experience of the world. The play acknowledges that the women who are seen as 'silly little girls' have real emotions, issues, and challenges that shouldn't be dismissed". Review by Kate Gaul (Image: Georgia Brogan)

King Lear Neilson Nutshell Bell Shakespeare presents “King Lear” – the third production of this play from the company since its inception. Firstly, the very un-classical, definitely controversial but absolutely undeniable production directed by Barrie Kosky in 1998 (with John Bell in the title role).  Then in 2010 John Bell again played Lear in a Japanese inspired production memorably directed by Marion Potts.  Now, in 2024 Artistic Director Peter Evans stakes his claim on the text.  This time Robert Menzies takes the titular role.  He is one of our living treasures of the theatre now and he imbues the role with compelling physical degradation across the three hours of the play.  His textual clarity is most welcome in a production set in the round (when not every word will be coming at you directly from the stage as actors must have backs turned to at least a portion of the audience). As expected, he excels in the second half as the once stately Lear is now gone mad and wanders a wind-blown heath.  The ferocity of Lear’s observations, his insights and passion are seared into our imaginations, and I challenge anyone not to be moved with these scenes and finally as Lear grieves his dead daughter, Cordelia. But is it enough? Menzies leads a cast of ten.  Outstanding amongst them is the luminous Lizzie Schebesta (Goneril), Bell veteran James Lugton (Gloucester)and Janine Watson (Kent) And - although less experienced - Alex King plays a striking Edgar. Stage setting (Anna Tregolan) is a beautiful and resonant copper disc for a stage and the show is echoed in shapes above the stage and then around the auditorium hang copper orbs.  All gleaming and seductive drawing our attention to ever present astrological references. This is a minimalist “King Lear”.  The costumes are an eclectic collection of smart rehearsal room blacks onto which are applied linen tabards, cloaks and other bits and pieces. It’s all very conceptual. The work is mostly measured and sometimes comes across as passionless. The copper disc and orbs are beautifully lit by Benjamin Cisterne, at time unconventionally.  The space has great atmosphere.  All assisted by (the ever reliable) Max Lyandvert’s composition and sound design which adds to the unsettling nature of the environment. At the conclusion of the show and on the way out to the foyer the company has displayed the costume and set renderings in a large scale.  This is a clever deconstruction of what we have just seen, and I imagined my teenage self and burgeoning theatre nerd being very excited about this detailed display.  This is a posh night at the theatre at all levels! I missed an embodiment of visceral nature of the text; that this was a world torn apart through blindness and deceit.  I think it’s an interesting question about HOW to embody heightened text for a contemporary audience. Hopefully theatre goers will get to see “King Lear” more than once in a lifetime.  If we can hear the text and see the players tempting us with the story and sit in a world imbued with the vision of directors, designers and other theatre artists then Shakespeare’s genius can touch us.  Bell Shakespeare’s “King Lear” certainly rings in my imagination days after seeing this fresh production. Review by Kate Gaul

POV 25A Belvoir “POV” is a new theatre work that builds on re:group performance collective’s interest in the intersections of cinema and theatre, this time turning our attention to documentary filmmaking. re:group collaborate with two young performers and thirty six unrehearsed actors across the season of their latest theatre work, “POV”.  Each night of the latest docudrama experiment two new unrehearsed adult actors join a (rehearsed) young performer onstage. Through her direction, they are led through re-enacted scenes, mediating questions about family, agency, mental health and how we speak to children. The child, Bub, is 11-years old and obsessed with documentary filmmaking. As her parental relationship seems to be falling apart, Bub turns to these re-enactments (by actors) to get to the truth. A rotating cast of performers, who know almost nothing about what to expect, are fed lines from the child on stage, given scripts, and in-ear prompting. They tell us – via reading from a prepared script – what they are asked to arrive with.  A sense of openness and play, yes.  For the male actor playing Dad: to prepare a Werner Hertzog accent. For the woman playing Mum: some preparatory research on bi-polar disorder.  The night I attended the actors were Tom Conroy playing Dad and Vaishnavi Suryaprakash playing Mum.  Mabelle Rose played Bub. “POV” could be described as an event where two points of focus for the audience (1) the story that has been rehearsed with Bub (2) the reactions of the unrehearsed actors as they make their way through the material. “POV’ is lays bare its mechanics – instructions are revealed; actors “act” and react and these are caught on camera and projected back to the audience in larger-than-life proportions; Bub is “running the show” but we know this is rehearsed, scripted, pre-planned.  At times we are asked to believe that as she lies on a dolly track set up across the stage and that she is putting herself in danger on a train track (accompanied with appropriate sound and lighting design). We are told at the beginning of the show that one of the company members, Carly, is the child chaperone.  About half of the way through the performance the child actor needs an official break and so we all take a break.  Biscuits and fruit poppers are handed around. The production plays with our perceptions of time - by taking it. We wait as camera’s are repositioned, a mattress inflates, a child takes a legal break in work. Early in the piece – and perhaps one of its most striking moments – is as we wait for a polaroid picture of Bub’s parents to develop/emerge from the emulsion when the chemicals hit the light. The ability to capture a moment and have it develop right before your eyes is something truly magical. Maybe this is at the heart of re:group’s practice. On a personal level, the work reflects lived experiences of the complexities of family life, childhood and mental health within the creative team. “For us, the real, live negotiation between two adults and a child constitutes the ‘documentary’ in the work - even though the scenes they are re-enacting are mostly fictional,” says director and co-creator, Solomon Thomas. When the adult actor playing mum is asked by the child to describe what she knows about bipolar disorder, the adult actor temporarily steps outside her script (as it were).  A test of her preshow homework, sure, but also a candid and effective scene where an adult knows they should tread carefully and sensitively. She also knows this is a public act, in a theatre, with an audience.  Every performance may be different of course but Vaishnavi Suryaprakash’s vulnerability in this scene created genuine electricity. Which leads me to reflect on the nature of performance; the fact that we are ALL actors; and the roles of illusion and truth in the theatre – all the old chestnuts! “POV” invites us to think of auteur film-maker Werner Herzog who is stated to believe that there is no difference between documentary and fiction. Herzog gets three mighty mentions across the 80+ minutes of “POV”.  Bub writes to him as a fellow documentarian to ask for advice (she gets a response, read by the adult male actor in the aforementioned pre-prepared accent); during the entitled break the audience is asked to take out their phones, find quotes from Werner Hertzog and read them out loud; and there is a longer email to Bub that may or may not have arrived from Herzog but is read by Dad as if it is. Werner Herzog plays a certain role in the public imagination. The German filmmaker has become meme-ified and satirised – not his work, but his person, his wild-haired, Bavarian-accented, sad-eyed, difficult-truth-intoning person. Herzog’s primary films are always about Herzog’s obsession with obsessive characters. There are pages and pages devoted to the examination of Herzog’s ethic’s, his appropriation and ultimately (my point-of view) his fascination with himself and his inability to fully embrace the humanity of the people who populate his chosen setting. So, what to make of the interpolation of Herzog here? Is there a pointed intention at work in “POV” give the proportional time allotted to Herzog? I can’t unravel it but there is something unsettling about Herzog and his place inside Bub’s interrogation of reality.  Reality is mediated, I guess, and we all like to think we have control. Lots of food for thought and as a first pass at an idea 25A is the perfect launch pad for “POV”. I look forward to seeing how re:group collective develop the work from here. By Kate Gaul (Image Supplied)