SEARCH RESULTS

OATMILK AND HONEY Summerhall Demonstration Room “Oatmilk and Honey” is created and performed by MO-KO Piano & Circus from South Australia. Co-founded by Filipino Australian musician Nathan Chettle and Australian acrobat Amanda Lee who both perform the piece. As the description suggests this is a blend of live original music, circus acrobatics, and more mellow moves to create a truly unique outcome. Described by some as avante-garde it reflects raw human experience of anxiety. There is no narrative. Nathan Chettle sits playing the keyboard while Amanda Lee moves around the space and him. They become intertwined, interrupting each other, intruding on each-other’s work – much like anxiety can engulf the mind and body. The company has garnered a number of awards for this piece in circus and fringe festival contexts. “Oatmilk and Honey” is presented in the Demonstration Room” at Summerhall. The Demonstration Room is a stark and uniquely atmospheric space that gives audiences a powerful experience before the work even starts. Sharply tiered seating from which the original students may have observed dissections now invite eager audiences to get up-close with audacious artists (often incorporating aerial elements as the ceiling is very high and contains rigging points). The grimy white walls resonate with past usage and performances. As the two artists make their way to the stage through a squeaky door, one is immediately reminded of the courage it takes to walk into this very non illusionistic space and our fragility as humans. The stage is simple set with a hexagonal light box as backdrop, a carpet on which sits two keyboards, a small table, an acrobat swing to one side. Jars of honey and a carton of oatmilk sit prominently atop the keyboard and small table. The carpet slides easily up and downstage and the performers take their time to move the mat (and everything on it) whenever they need more space. The performers operate their own tech from a mobile phone – which is essentially changes in light colour and intensity. As the piece starts, we are told, through soothing voice over, that this is a safe space to laugh, cry, breathe, and heal. The voiceover returns at points during the show. We are treated to an imagistic poem about an alpaca. Part meditation, part finely crafted routine, “Oatmilk and Honey” elicits a powerful emotional response through the sheer audacious elegance of its conception and delivery. Amanda Lee makes a brief appearance as an alpaca. Throughout the performance she rarely takes her eyes from Nathan at the keyboard and it’s a lightening-rod of a connection. Statistics collected by Beyond Blue show that approximately 1 in 7 Australians are currently experiencing an anxiety condition. This work is dedicated to anyone who has ever felt anxiety, loved someone with anxiety, or cared for someone with anxiety. Programmed at 10am this is the ideal way to start your day at Edinburgh Fringe and a formidable reminder of why we come together to share in self-expression and participate in a powerful interconnection if only we can open our hearts and minds. Kate Gaul

Lie Low Traverse Theatre 2 A relatively new play by Ciara Elizabeth Smyth was produced by Belfast’s Prime Cut Productions, had a stella season at the Abbey in Dublin and now makes its way to Traverse 2 as part of Edinburgh Fringe. I come to it knowing that personal hero, Irish playwright Enda Walsh, has called it “Wild and hilarious”. I had to see it. Taking an absurdist approach to sexual consent and false memory, this 70-minute drama shifts disarmingly from absurd humour to tense confrontation. The play keeps peeling open like an onion. Fay (Charlotte McCurry) is in a consultation with a third doctor (the voice of Rory Nolan) over her 20 nights of insomnia. She inhabits a spartan flat with only a wardrobe she kept once her mother passed away. She hasn’t been able to sleep since she was sexually violated by a masked man who had been hiding in the wardrobe. Estranged brother Naiose (Michael Patrick) makes an unexpected visit and Faye enlists him to try a form of home-made exposure therapy. It is all harking back to games they played as children and soon becomes very murky. Naiose reveals he has a problem of his own. He is on the brink of losing his job due to an allegation against him of sexual misconduct from a work colleague. Stakes skyrocket and accusations fly. Cleverly, writer Ciara Elisabeth Smyth has created knowable characters and we simultaneously understand multiple points of view. Added to all this seriousness are some infectious upbeat dance numbers. Both writer Ciara Elizabeth Smyth and director Oisín Kearney constantly plays with expectations. And not just with the dance numbers. The bookends of the piece, played out in the consultation rooms, are quite odd as they almost feel from another play. I like that Smyth kept these scenes and the play true to herself. Its oddness will linger in the memory. A third actor, Thomas Finnegan cuts the rug quite brilliantly and I applaud Smyth for adding a buoyant layer of crazy to what could have been a down-beat play about two lost siblings. Michael Patrick is beautifully nuanced as Naiose and can really dial up the emotion as the drama develops. Charlotte McCurry is effervescent, lively detailed. The combined energy of these two wonderful actors make sparks fly. Don’t miss this modest but polished drama. A great way to start the Edinburgh Fringe Festival Odyssey. Disclosure: I attended a preview performance and paid for my ticket. Kate Gaul

Blush Opera Bondi Festival July 2023 The Bondi Pavilion has undergone a complete makeover courtesy of Waverly Council and plays host to a renewed Bondi Festival annually around mid-winter. It includes the usual crowd-pleasing Ferris wheel and oddly out of place ice rink. But once past the commercial crap there’s a considered and compelling line-up of performance and performative events. Rachel Chant – the festival’s director – demonstrates a talent for shrewd programming and none better than the commissioning of Blush Opera to create a response to Bondi Beach, the water the setting sun and the sand. After not having been near Bondi for the pandemic years I was struck once again with its sheer beauty during daylight hours and how the atmosphere magically transforms at dusk. Blush Opera is an indie outfit dedicated to developing the performance aesthetic of opera through commissions and collaboration. I’m a long-term admirer and I eagerly await the next surprising project to emerge. And so, to the beachfront it was for a 30-minute immersive program of interwoven classics and original vocal work for a female ensemble of 6 voices (the Sirens) accompanied by clarinet (Sandra Ismail). A circle of blue and white LED lights indicated where this performance was to take place (Lighting Designer Gordon Rymer). The work was scheduled to begin at 5.30pm and over the 30 minutes of the production the sun quickly set. Nature provided the major lighting changes. Working site specifically is always a challenge, especially when nature is your major design partner. The simplicity of the human lighting intervention was elegant and adequate to the requirements of the production. The most stunning moment occurred when – to end the performance – the Sirens walked towards the sea slowly being engulfed by the darkness all around. Beautiful. The blue and white of the environment was echoed in the silky idiosyncratic costumes (Designer Aloma Barnes). Long and flowing these gowns were a nod to perhaps more conventional opera wear but the odd shapes, dangles and patchwork design resonated with the idea of a Siren as an untamed half bird half woman. The women wore hair loose and were variously adorned with shimmering makeup which caught the light as they moved, bare foot, across the sand. Moving and singing on dry sand isn’t easy but director Nicole Pingon cleverly choreographed the group to form duos, trios, and choruses. The committed Sirens appeared to move effortlessly. The audience had the advantage of sitting on a series of steps if they chose and this arrangement did provide the musicians with a mass to partially reflect their sound. But the program invited audiences to wander around the performance space or rest at a chosen vantage point. This free, 30-minute experience transformed the beach into an ephemeral musical canvas where not one audience member leaves with the same sonic experience. Vocal arrangement is by Blush Opera’s Co-Artistic Director (and fine composer) Paul Smith. This arrangement comprised original work and arrangements of Die Forelle (Franz Schubert), Sunken Cathedral (Debussy), Ophelia's Mad Scene "A Vos Jeux" by Amboise Thomas, "Look! Through the Port" from Billy Budd (Britten), "The Seal Man" by Rebecca Clarke and "Sure on this Shining Night" by Samuel Barber. The Sirens were given voice and nuance through this choice of repertoire and elevated from the cliched versions of the luring sneaky voices from Homer’s “Odyssey”. Neither were they innocent nymphs. Here we are not exploring traditional Siren-esque themes of vanity and seduction, or stereotypes about women being helpless, and how the need to feel "unique" makes people vulnerable to flattery. “Songs of the Sirens” does resonate around traditional gender expectations and how they can trap people, pushing them to perform isolating, lonely roles. So, whether you attend to the visual and aural beauty or the thematic resonances of the repertoire, this is an intriguing event. Jermaine Chau’s rich mezzo voice is a clarion call in any ensemble. She keenly and evocatively draws us into the dramatic world of the music. Jermaine – it should be mentioned – is also Co-Artistic Director of Blush Opera and is a woman of intelligence and vision. Alice Girle impresses with confident and expressive acting and always commands our attention through her interpretations; Aleta Shang is pulls heartstrings and draws the eye with her ability for stillness and fine modulation; Wiradjuri Woman Georgina Powell is building an impressive operatic portfolio and is a singer to watch; Libby Cooper is a talented and spirited delight in this context bringing her usual light and life to all she undertakes; Hannah Greenshields conveys resilience and the other-worldly through her powerful soprano voice; emerging artist Laura Wachsmann completes the ensemble. “Songs of the Sirens” is a definite highlight of this year’s Bondi Festival. Bring on the next Blush Opera program! Review by Kate Gaul

The Pitchfork Disney Meraki Arts Bar The Pitchfork Disney enjoys a spirited revival by Virginia Plain Theatre Co at Meraki Arts Bar in Sydney. The play opens with the characters of Presley and Haley, two adults living alone in the East End of London. They live as children subsisting mostly on chocolate and some strange “mummy and daddy’s medicine” which is obviously a drug. No parents, just stories. From their window, they see two men, one of whom is apparently sick. Agitated, Haley sucks on a drugged dummy and goes to sleep. Presley brings the sick man in, who promptly vomits on the floor. This is Cosmo Disney, and he explains that he and his partner are showmen. His sickness is caused by the fact that his act consists of eating insects and small animals. Cosmo emotionally manipulates Presley who tells Cosmo about a recurring dream he has, involving a serial killer named 'The Pitchfork Disney'. Presley finishes his story and Cosmo's partner arrives—a huge, masked, apparently mute figure named Pitchfork Cavalier. Cosmo convinces Presley to accompany Pitchfork to the shops, promising friendship. When they leave, Cosmo assaults Haley by inserting one of his fingers soaked in medicine into her mouth. The play has an atmosphere of menace; it’s unsettling. If you have ever spent any time in an acting class, audition room or hanging around young actors, then speeches – complete with verbal flourishes - from Phillip Ridley’s debut play of 1991 may be familiar. Memorably Ridley has is main character Presley describe the killing of a green snake in a frying pan and in another he recounts seeing one kill a mouse in the reptile house of a zoo and then returning home and watching a television programme about a Christian cult who worship snakes. When Presley invites the charismatic Cosmo into the house it transpires that Cosmo himself can be interpreted as being a manifestation of a snake as he eats insects and small animals for a living, claims to have been born hatching from an egg and that he got new skin having unzipped and threw away the skin he had from being a baby. Critic and leading expert on “In-yer-face theatre”, Aleks Sierz, has cited the play as a pioneering work. In his introduction to the Methuen Classics edition of the play-text, Sierz wrote "The Pitchfork Disney is not only a key play of the 90s; it is the key play of that decade... Its legend grew and grew until it became the pivotal influence on the generation of playwrights that followed. It is a foundation text; it separates then from now." Sierz credits the play with introducing "a totally new sensibility into British theatre [that] signalled a fresh direction for contemporary playwrighting: one that eschewed realistic naturalism, political ideology and social commentary, and turned auditoria into cauldrons of sensation", adding that the play was "an agenda setting work: the era of experiential theatre began here". Big call. So how does it stack up 30 + years later? Having become familiar with the tropes of “in-yer-face theatre” (both the genuine article and poor imitations) it’s no longer the discombobulation that attends this genre. With the distance of time, we can examine the substance of the play, its structure and challenges it offers to artists and audiences. Director and designer Victor Kalka creates an immersive setting in the tiny Meraki Arts Bar space. To find our seats, we enter directly into the room of the two siblings. It’s an appropriately drab set-up with functional couch, a window, chairs and table and startling piles of shiny discarded chocolate wrappers everywhere. Nice touch! Victor Kalka’s interest in painted surfaces is on show again here and the finish on the three crème and grit splattered walls is deftly realised. The design renders the space magically much larger, and I suspect this may be an approach that will be repeated by other creative teams. This production opts for the psychologically chaotic over the intensely filthy in its setting. Lighting necessarily floods the room given the pale walls and offers some moody touches as the speeches kick in (designer Jasmin Borsovsky). The quality of the light behind the window - from which the siblings see the strangers on the street – is a terrific moment. It supports the existence of an outside world from which the two grown up children have retreated. James Smithers as angsty Presley, hunched like a repressed man-child, keeps the necessary pace of the production rattling along. Played by a heart-breaking Jane Angharad, Hayley (the sister) is a resonant character given that she spends most of the production in an unconscious haze on the couch. It’s curious to contemplate whether Ridley could write a character like that now given our contemporary focus on female agency – no matter what comment he wished to make about society’s treatment of women. Harry Winsome is commandant as the showman Cosmo. Red sequinned jacket, flowing hair, sexually anxious – the worst nightmare, if only Haley knew this! Towering over all is James Hartley as Pitchfork Cavalier. Masked, silent, lumbering. Scary. Bedecked with a full-face mask made from what looked like ring pulls. Kalka has assembled a solid ensemble who will settle into their roles over the season. I was struck by how elegant the writing is for what is a debut full length play. I enjoyed the surrealism, poetry, and muscle of the writing. I appreciated the revival of a classic. Ridley never really met the promise of his Pinteresque beginnings but there’s enough ballast in the text to sustain an entertaining, unsettling, and bizarre event that is The Pitchfork Disney. Disclosure – I attended the first preview and paid for my ticket. Kate Gaul

The Hero Leaves One Tooth Ratcatch Theatre KXT Broadway “The Hero Leaves One Tooth” is premiere of a new play by Erica J Brennan and produced by Ratcatch Theatre. Where to begin? Vaginas with teeth. Body anxiety and body autonomy. In the words of the director Cam Turnbull, “this play erupts a visceral response to a culture of sexual violence, as bodies transform into protective weapons, and folklore monster all in one”. The playwright imagines a world where vaginas can bite back. It sounds scary and even a bit of a turn off but this elegant production – with its fake blood, and orthodontics – was quite thrilling, entertaining, and very tasteful! The play begins evocatively and mysteriously with a beautifully dressed woman, Neeve, being followed at night. In a second scene it’s clear there has been an assault. Next a band of men take to the stage and play – live - one for the three original songs in the piece (Lyrics and music by Jake Neilson, Music Director Alexander Lee-Rekers, Arranger Zac Saric). The subversion of style is electrifying; the music is alluring; the light and confident touch in the direction here is very satisfying. The other original renderings are as potent vocalise-into-mic by character Kadi, and a vintage record player delivers a suitable song entitled “Once Bitten” in the closing (hopeful?) moments of the play. In the middle of all this we have a dinner party between friends, slide night and loads of seething attempted seduction. Brennan’s snappy dialogue is a gift and her wry interrogation of the traditional staple of drawing room theatre – the dinner party – had me quietly chuckling all night. Cam Turnbull has assembled an outstanding team. Production design by recent NIDA grad Meg Anderson gives a brand-new spin on the KXT space with two porticos either side of the traverse which create entrances and exits; the semblance of a “realistic” room, and importantly surfaces on which to project both video design and the all-important vintage slides. The room is obviously set for a dinner party but it’s all wonky – I loved this. A very clever, smart interpretation for this off-beat play. Video design by David Malloy is seamlessly integrated into the overall design and vibe of the show. Some of the images are unsettling. But the images are just mouths, right? Context is everything. Jasmin Borsovsky (Lighting Designer) again produces outstanding work with her welcome attention to detail. Zac Saric supports the atmospherics of the play with sinister sound scape. Brennan creates characters with real dimension and opportunities for the cast to shine. Michael Mcstay as Felix, the dinner-party host and recently returned traveller, is a formidable actor. Whether it’s Felix’s up tight insistence that all ‘phones be turned off, his passion for sharing his travel slides, or his mostly unexplained relationship with best-friend Gem, Mcstay excels in the nuances of both the humour and drama. Felix’s girlfriend Neeve is played with an unsettling stillness by Kira-Che Heelan. There’s a fire burning inside this character. It’s scary watching but we can’t look away. Cara Whitehouse impresses as the gender-fluid long time friend of Felix, Kadi. Kadi is also a dentist of sorts. Kadi arrives with Gem who is perhaps an ex-lover of Felix. Tom Rodgers wins us over with his pre-dinner party red wine pre-load. He’s funny but there is much at stake for this character, and we believe it! Sasha – a friend of both Felix and Neeve – who is not Russian although she insists she is – is bought to life by comedian Claudia Shnier. She is super funny but there’s no darkness without light, right? Some offstage hanky-panky with Mark (Neeve’s ex-boyfriend) yields some startling realisations. Mark is played by a solid David Woodland proving his versatility yet again on the indie scene. Sasha brings an unexpected guest, Benito, played by newcomer Patricio Ibarra. A talent to watch. Who is the hero and where was the tooth? That would be telling! I note that the company worked with experienced dramaturg (amongst a long list of accomplishments) Joanna Erskine. Smart move for a new play. “The Hero Leaves One Tooth” is one of the strongest productions I’ve seen at KXT. The play, the team, the company - this is a rave! Go see it. Kate Gaul

Werewolves Bondi Festival In the gorgeously gothic High Tide Room of the Bondi Pavilion, master games master Nicholas Giles Phillps esq. leads an immersive experience for an intimate audience. Dressed gorgeously in a nineteenth century looking glam coat and cravat; his flowing grey hair and mischievous eyes we feel confident. This is a game that everyone can play and the afternoon I attended the audience were around 50/50 children and adults were mutually delighted by the adventure and outcomes. Ice immediately broken in we dive! It is deceptively simple. A “Peter and the Wolf” tune plays over and over in the background. As we sit in the circle, Nicholas tells us here we are – a gloomy, fog filled village called Milers Hollow. He explains the rules. Everyone plays a part, chosen randomly to be an innocent villager, a witch, a seer, cupid, and a pair of lovers. And of course, the murderous werewolves, who pick off the players one by one at night. We close our eyes as night falls. Nicholas guides us through the eventful night with a mellow and measured tone. When eyes open again it’s the next morning to a dead body. We must gather clues and uncover who amongst us is a werewolf while avoiding being wrongfully accused yourself. Anyone we accuse risks meeting their end at the town gallows and each vote we cast could send an innocent to their deaths. Only the werewolves who each other is and, as the surviving villagers try to guess, our numbers dwindle if we pick the wrong player to die. As a werewolf you must avoid suspicion by casting doubt on others but beware, each move you make is being sharply scrutinised by the village and the wrong decision could lead to your downfall. Should you meet your end before the game concludes there is still plenty of fun to be had. With death comes knowledge, and as the identities of the wolves are revealed to the newly deceased. Nicholas kindly offers a consolation prize of a glass of champagne for those (adults) who die early in the game or a lolly pop (for the kids). The entire event is thoroughly entertaining and offers a unique experience of what audience engagement can be and it’s made more exceptional but the small audience. Having adults accuse children and of murder and vice versa does lend a rather off beat vibe to the entire affair. I bet some people had some explaining to do on the way home! But maybe that’s what it’s all about – how do we reveal our true natures when we are threatened even with a make-believe death? No two shows would ever be alike, and it would be fun to see it at different times of the day with very different audiences. Do not miss this unique and flavoursome hour as part of Bondi Festival! Kate Gaul

Dumb Kids KXT on Broadway Legit Theatre Co present “Dumb Kids” by Jacob Parker and directed by emerging artist Sophia Bryant. Pre publicity tells us this is audaciously imagined as a queer response to Wederkind’s “Spring Awakening”. It’s a far cry from Wederkind’s “tradegy of childhood” with its themes of rape, child abuse, violence, abortion, ignorance. “Dumb Kids” tells the story of year 11s exploring their identity and sexuality. They want love, they want passion, they want to be friends for life, but they need answers, and they need to be the most authentic versions of themselves, and I guess this is where this play and its inspiration in Wederkind do meet. By contrast to Wedekind, these characters are extremely woke – they are (mostly) cool with who they are in this extended friend group. Secrets, desires, concerns are discussed. No-one’s life is ever at stake. Emotions and egos are bruised. But they have each other, right? Like an extended rom com, the play and production lean into a celebration of what it is to be young and middle class in 2023. For that reason alone, “Dumb Kids” is a breath of fresh air. It IS great that today maturing humans have a vocabulary about who they are and that plays can be written about sexual and gender experience with such confidence. Jacob Parker has been establishing himself as a playwright of note with works such as “This Genuine Moment” and “Tell Me Before the Sun Explodes”. “Dumb Kids” reinforces his assured ability with dialogue and the funny turn of phrase. The play feels overly long as it slides to its conclusion that “things will get better” and it’s hard to gauge whether the writer believes this maxim or if it’s meant to be an ironic note. Many scenes are constructed so that there’s a kind of overlapping or mirroring of dialogue. It’s a neat technique. Perhaps overused here rather than saved for some wow! moments. The production has a stuttering and sometimes plodding flow as the team navigate this characteristic of the writing. Parker’s ten characters are all clearly drawn and each one has a special moment. Of note, Lou McInnes, who plays trans character Will, has a finely tuned speech describing a first sexual experience with a stranger. They have the skill to deliver the arresting moment and the writing here genuinely subverts what could have been a cliched recall. Well-known Sydney improvisor and comedian Kate Wilkins is fabulously funny and extremely likeable as lost boy Otis; Rachel Seeto (as Maria) and Oli McGavock (as Lammeir) impress in the depiction of their burgeoning relationship. The cast is a roll call of the freshest and brightest new faces on the Sydney indie stage, and it was a pleasure to experience their work. Fraser Crane, Ryan Hodson, Dominique Purdue (striking inn Slanted Theatre’s recent “Short Blanket”), Angharad Wise, Connor Reily, and. Mym Kwa – go see them! The setting is a school playground. The monkey bars and other climbing stuff are now too small for the teens. The formal costumes worn for the final scene are variously too large or too tight. Designer Benedict Janeczko-Taylor has astutely delivered a design that resonates with the context for the characters who inhabit that treacherous space between child and adult. Thomas Doyle’s lighting design is elegant, and he has some fun with colour and shadows for the interpolated movement sequences (movement director Emma Van Veen). Christine Pan’s composition and sound design is subtle and supports the story at both literal and atmospheric levels. The team is admirably pulled together by director Sophie Bryant and she – along with the other creatives – are voices we need to hear more from, and I will be eagerly looking out for these names in the next company lists and blurbs. Finally, to mention the producers Thomas Hanaee, Anni Stafford, and Mathew Lee. Producing is a job that is largely misunderstood by most people, even practitioners. Massive applause for your clear, courteous, and timely communication plus delivering a stylish production to birth a brand-new play! Bravo! Kate Gaul

Spyduck – A Chinese Spy Comedy SKYDUCK & CO AND SQUARESUMS&CO.’S Parramatta Riverside Theatres “Spyduck” is a bi-lingual, one-man show featuring four characters, three cultures and a whole lot of laughs. Sam Wang (playwright and performer) is a total charm offensive. His versatility and skill have him acting, dancing, and entertaining us with this crazy story capped off with some mad 1990s nostalgia. I saw the original production 5 years ago downstairs at Belvoir St and it is a treat I cannot recommend highly enough – GO! It’s 1993 and Australia has succeeded in its bid to host the 2000 Olympic Games. China is not happy. Enter Agent Chang and Captain Yan. Sam flips effortlessly between the characters: Chinese agents Chang and Yan have stolen a flight simulator from the Americans. They are turning Skyhawk into Skyduck to achieve military supremacy. Enter the square jawed Westerners: American Commander Kendrick is from the USA, and (slightly less square jawed) Australian Aerobatic Squadron leader Hugh Tucker. Prepare to meet love interest Little Swallow and pop sensation Xiao Peng who makes a short but memorable appearance. Maybe a little baffling to being with but this is part of the infectious appeal. “Skyduck” references the imagery and style of blockbuster movies “The Matrix”, “Top Gun”, and “Inception” for example. At first it feels like it’s a spoof with a send up of reality TV and a dinky instant noodle making invention. Audiences can certainly lean into any cultural critique the work implies or sit back and marvel at the audacious storytelling, fine use of technology ranging from simple objects coming in and out on strings to live video and inventive original and found projections. The incredible props (maker Lap Nguyen) feel like overgrown Lego constructions and add to an atmosphere of play this production engenders. Aileen Huynh’s direction is smart and snappy. The technology is finely integrated and offers many visual delights – the computer graphics from the past are particularly delightful. I also loved the dream space of the sci fi movies and how easy it was to be transported even though we can see that the actor is on a simple rolling chair against a backdrop. I would have loved the musical and dancing set pieces to have more punch – like, really go there and reject the edge of dagginess the show has which can feel like an apology; to make sure the text could be fully understood through the amplification; and then use these techniques to further support the cultural differences of all the characters. A strange nostalgia haunts the piece as we are shown adverts for Streets paddle pops. The most hilarious footage from the late 1990s of a strangely young John Farnham and Human Nature duet – something about how fabulous the Olympics will be and the fireworks. I’d like to think, culturally, we have come a long way in 25 years…… but this is all part of the subversive genius that is “Spyduck. Since its premiere the show has been presented in NZ and sat out the pandemic. This is the sort of nimble high-quality small-scale work that could and should be seen everywhere. Don’t just read about it, go see it! Playing at Parramatta Riverside Theatres until Saturday. Kate Gaul

Superbly crafted and presented, “Masterclass” is one of this year’s highlights and is created by Irish based company Brokentalkers (who presented “Have I no Mouth” at Sydney Festival in 2015). Having been performed around the world, “Masterclass” now makes its way to Melbourne via the Rising Festival and is not to be missed! Performed by Adrienne Truscott and Feidlim Cannon “Masterclass” deconstructs the construct of a ‘masterclass’, examining power, adoration, the lone male genius, and hierarchy within the arts to explore themes of political power, misogyny, and gender. The show begins as a kind of send up of those American arts master series shows that can now be caught on YouTube. Truscott is playing a legendary, misogynistic, enfant terrible of screen and stage, Adrienne Truscott (whose latest play is called “Fat Cunt” as the title “Fat Pig” was already taken!) Cannon, the interviewer, can’t help but over share his admiration of his guest. Although his stated intention is to really dig deep in his interview all he does is preserve the myth of the white male genius. Costuming is complete with wigs and false moustaches and on a retro looking playing space we quickly get the idea that is not all as it seems. There’s a gun, cigarettes, whisky, talk of Hemingway and discussion around Truscott’s barely sketched women characters. Truscott’s author delights in sharing the best ways to dominate a room to create a climate of fear for everyone around you. In a highlight the pair enact a scene from Truscott’s aforementioned play. Cannon reads the lines of the female character and Truscott’s author shoots down any suggestion that his writing is sexist. "If you think that, you clearly haven’t understood it." They then go into a rehearsal of the scene. Truscott denies any claims of traumatising female actors while looking for a raw visceral reaction. It was never women that Truscott attacked (It’s “female characters”, he insists). It’s all for the sake of art, of course. It’s bleak and very funny. It feels safe – we know they are acting. Complete with funny dances and exaggerated physicality the show could have continued in this way and been provocative and entertaining. Halfway through, however, “Masterclass” evolves into something else. And it becomes edgier. Truscott and Cannon appear to break from the characters they play and discuss the time they met (at a Sydney Festival!). The piece squares up against the current conversations around equality and power sharing in the arts. They grapple with the balance of power in their own relationship and the different way men in positions of authority behave towards them. A scene where Cannon briefly describes his reading of “Little Women” is another highlight. So, it’s time to redefine who should occupy the stage – where and why. For how long? There isn't enough room or resources for everyone, and white men have told all their stories. Time for them to get off the stage and make way for others. White women may have to leave too – but not quite yet. The conversation is layered with the resonances of the actor’s initial characterisation still partly intact – American Truscott’s military silhouette, confident and easily flowing vocabulary against Irishman Cannon’s bluster which becomes his Inarticulate hovering. Sixty minutes of pure joy, skill, and provocation. Not problems are solved. No easy answers presented. The sands of privileged art making are forever shifting. Catch this show if you can. Kate Gaul

3/5 cat’s whiskers for this miniature epic! “Scaredy Cat” is created by treasured 40-years-young Tasmanian puppet company, Terrapin. What a delight to join the way-under-10s for this 45-minute piece of joyous escapism. Set in the basement stacked with boxes, old paint cloths and discarded furniture this is a David and Goliath struggle between a naïve cat and three very energetic, smart and cunning mice. Scaredy Cat is abandoned in the basement with one job – get rid of the mice! Only one problem … Scaredy is fearful of these little critters and has no experience of hunting. The mice are first- rate bullies who eat Scaredy’s food and even fashion a key from a tin lid to attempt a get-away. Magically, a dusty chair, cupboard and vintage tape recorder come to life and together teach Scaredy that she’s more powerful than she could ever imagine. I won’t give away any spoilers but be assured there is no blood spilt in the basement. I was relieved that writer Finn O’Branagáin found a neat way of subverting our expectations around feisty felines and robust rodents. This is a story of unlikely friendship and courage. Although, I did kinda wish that Scaredy left for a life of adventure with those mice! The production is accompanied by a dense recorded sound track and is strongest when its focuses on Foley-like effects (human footsteps, doors opening, mice skidding, items falling), which begins, and end the show. The choreography of puppeteers, objects and sounds – in these moments - is thrilling. When the action falls out of realism and into the fantastic is where the production soars – memorably as Scaredy, the furniture and the mice interact in a matrix-like slow motion sequence. The show is short enough for a stronger and more sustained build and the end is a bit of a whimper. There is a mysterious human being who lives offstage and I guess this story is that Scaredy must take her newfound confidence into the human arena beyond the basement. Three, young engaging puppeteers move like clockwork within the confines of the detailed, neat touring set which sits beautifully in the Playhouse stage – but, be warned, if you are sitting on the extreme edges there is a sightline challenge. The under-10s and the over-50s were all chuckling together in recognition of Scaredy’s troubles and triumphs. Laughter bonds us, and helps makes kids smarter, healthier and more resilient – it really is the best medicine; and what better medicine than this in these fraught COVID times! Writer: Finn O’Branagáin Director: Sam Routledge Original Design: Bryony Anderson Set Design Adaptation for Theatres: Charlotte Lane Composer: Dylan Sheridan Performers: Noah Casey, Lucy McDonald, Bella Young Construction: Bryony Anderson, Jon Bowling, Paul Colegrave, Gab Paananen, Edith Perrenot, Gabbee Stolp Review by Kate Gaul Sydney Opera House 6th January 2022

3/5 tumbleweeds for Showtime at the Bagdad Gas and Oil Cafe! Wise Children Company & Old Vic Theatre Emma Rice and the Wise Children Company bring Percy and Eleonore Adlon’s iconic 1987 film Bagdad Cafe to The Old Vic stage with their playful, visual and emotional style. The German film director’s movie about two women who strike up a friendship at a scruffy diner-cum-motel in the Mojave Desert has acquired cult status over the past three decades. It’s one of my personal favourites as is the work of Emma Rice and Wise Children Company so I was excited to catch the streamed performance (admittedly very late at night, Australian time!). Lez Brotherston and Vicki Mortimer’s set is charming with Wise Children Company signature Neon signs and a half caravan. This time we’re in a rusty desert outpost conjured by Malcolm Rippeth’s lighting back-screen of streaking yellow mimicking the sky and changing colour according to the time of day. Rice uses music, miniature props and puppetry to weave an otherworldly aura around an isloated café that could just as easily be a mirage. Wedged in the aisle of the auditorium, as if crashing into the stage, is a life-sized open top car from where Le Gateau Chocolat enwraps the audience in several solo numbers and delivers a haunting performance as husband Sal. Other reliably entertaining Kneehigh/Wise Children veterans bring the story to life, including Patrycja Kujawska as Jasmine and Sandra Marvin as Brenda. Both offer complex, nuanced performances. With just a few words, the audience is nudged to consider the isolation and loneliness we’ve undoubtedly all experienced over the last year and a half, but more importantly, how it can be overcome. These women are surrounded by a loose group of lost loners. Brenda's disaffected children, one obsessed with Bach, one with hip-hop and the passing truckers, and her grandchild (incarnated in puppet form) make up a band that slowly becomes a family. There are plenty of lovely moments but I cringed at the stereotypes throughout. I guess they are hangovers from the film but in the theatre they came across as presented without irony or, sometimes, cultural awareness. One character’s sole job is to shout “Perestroika” and “Glasnost” in an exaggerated Russian accent. The Aussie tourist with boomerang trick is particularly grating. I guess the world has always revolved around the Brits and I certainly question the politics of a theatre that values its own perspectives over cultures that nonetheless prove such a fascination. Under the musical direction of Nadine Lee, as well as the talent of the actor-musicians, the show is bestowed with a powerfully expressive music and atmosphere. Rice takes the spirit of the film’s final cabaret scene and disperses it throughout the show. Bob Telson’s haunting ballad ‘Calling You’ punctuates the action and none finer than when sung by bass Le Gateau Chocolat. Favorite moments among the witty touches of theatrical artifice: a performer with tumbleweed attached to a stick rolling it across the stage; another with an inter-title sign - “Time Passes” – in a homage to film. The production marks the reopening of a London venue that has been at the welcome forefront of so much incredible streaming during our various lockdowns, and it's intriguing to note the format of a run that will follow a month or so of in-person performances with a final spate of online shows as part of the Vic's In Camera series. I recommend their ongoing In Camera programming – done so very well and each production begins with a fair bit of introduction to the set up. We never forget we are watching a live show albeit from the other side of the world. Devotee of Rice though I am this one is too sentimental for my tastes but nevertheless will satisfy as advertised - “a joyful celebration of togetherness, hope and friendship” – which is maybe all the escapism we need right now. Kate Gaul

3/5 bull ants and a cup of strong tea for Bathurst-born production Kangaroo! By Miranda Gott; A Lingua Franca, Local Stages BMEC, and Q Theatre production The Lingua Franca, Local Stages BMEC, and Q Theatre production of Miranda Gott’s play Kangaroo, was originally scheduled to be performed at the Joan Sutherland Performing Arts Centre in Penrith, and Parramatta Riverside, Sydney following a successful premiere season in regional NSW. The production has been repackaged as an audio experience but I got the chance to see a digital version of the production. Kangaroo is a three-interweaving-monologues style play by debut playwright Miranda Gott – known as a writer of fiction and non-fiction. The material is well-worn: an isolated rural town where three lives converge when local Kane Heckford is found dead. Melissa (Madelaine Osborn) is a teen mum with an abusive past; Mick (Duncan Wass) works at the town’s sewage facility and keeps to himself (he also has a dark past!); and Barbara (Geraldine Brown) a former Uni art lecturer is making a fresh start and writing a new book. In true gothic form the undercurrents of violence, isolation and human ineptitude eventually surface. The image rich writing is a pleasure to hear and is particularly strong when the orchestration of the voices reaches its climax as secrets are revealed and characters transformed. Directed with confidence by Becky Russell the elegant staging acknowledges and makes space for the playwright’s evocative text. A shape shifting canvas backdrop offers a range of emotive possibilities as well as a surface for projections. In this case of the works of Italian painter Artemisia Gentileschi which are part of art lectures given by Barbara; and the view of a small town from a hill as the sun rises. Each actor is individually engaging. As a whole the piece, perhaps, needs a finer orchestration of the voices with a focus on pace. If the actors could embody the energy of the text we could have enjoyed more vibrant physicality. It’s clear that each character is fighting personal demons, navigating unknown futures and grappling with a collective shame. I wanted to experience three lives against an ever-present death. The recording is no-frills but does have multiple camera angles and intelligent editing to keep the “watch online” experience lively. It’s heartbreaking that so many performances were snapped shut with the encroaching pandemic. I was so looking forward to catching Kangaroo live at the Q Penrith – where just over 12 months earlier a series of play readings (which included Kangaroo) – were stalled due to the horrific bush fires. Nothing replaces the magic of being in the same room as the performers, of course. The pandemic has taught us that connection through performance is still possible even in isolation. We have tools to share our performed stories. While we wait to emerge from these “unprecedented times” the story-teller and the entire pursuit of dramatic art is upended onto a different footing, and, if we are lucky, its products no longer resemble the predictable artefacts of the past. Kate Gaul