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Sweat Wharf One   Lynn Nottage is one of America’s most important political playwrights and so it is an absolute treat to see Sydney Theatre Company finally tackle her 2015 play “Sweat”. It won the 2027 Pulitzer Prize.  The Ensemble have previously presented Nottage’s play “Clyde’s”.   “Sweat” portrays a meeting between a parole officer and two ex-convicts, and three women who were childhood friends and had worked in the same factory. Most of the action takes place in a fictional bar in  Pennsylvania beautifully designed by Jeremy Allen.  When the scenes shift briefly to other locations and other time periods some classy lighting solutions (Verity Hampson) help guide the way.   We meet a group of friends that work for the steel factory, named Tracey, Cynthia and Jessie. Tracey is a middle-aged woman played with both guts and glory by Lisa McCune. She loves to hang out at the bar with her friends and cannot stand the way Reading beginning to change. Her friend Cynthia (a spectacular Paula Arundell in this production) also loves to hang out at the bar and is a hardworking woman in the factory. She is on and off with her addict husband, Brucie (played here with genuine pathos by Markus Hamilton).  Jessie completes the trio (an equal parts hilarious and scary Deborah Galanos).  The play is partly detailing the disintegration of these relationships.   Everyone has their own problems and bar man Stan hears and sees it all.  Yure Covich shines in this central role.  Gabriel Alvarado plays Oscar, a bar busboy. Oscar is Colombian and is usually not even acknowledged by the characters in this play.  As tensions rise in the town due to closures and increased fear of migrants, you just know there will be trouble and boy – what a climax. Alvarado impressed in Ensemble’s ‘Clydes” and is just as exceptional here.  One to watch!   And then there is Jason, Tracey's son (a strong James Fraser who was deliciously good in STC’s “Appropriate”). His best friend is Chris, Cynthia’s son (Newcomer Tinashe Mangwana who has talent by the bucket load). They both work at the factory and hold concerns they will be laid off. They both are arrested for assault and are released eight years later. Hence the time shifts and changes as we go back and forth over the how’s and whys.   Director Zindzi Okenyo has assembled a brilliant team and directs with confidence.   “Variety ”  described Nottage as taking us deep into "the heart of working-class America". Reviews of the play have described how she tackles the devastating impact of loss of work and of de-industrialisation on modern America. Based on extensive interviews with residents of the rustbelt town of Reading, Pennsylvania, it shows the anger and despair that helped fuel the election of Donald Trump. These characters as representing blue-collar workers who voted in Donald Trump as president the first time around.   Behind the play’s portrayal of the damage done to individual lives by what Nottage calls “the American de-industrial revolution” lies a wider picture of collapsing hopes and corporate ruthlessness. I found the play engrossing and the production splendid. In this current climate of debate around which artist can tell which story it was a pleasant change to simply sit in the theatre and empathise with lives unlike mine and wonder at the rich seam of American playwrighting that throws up such gems. Recommended!   Kate Gaul

4000 Miles Wharf 1   Amy Herzog’s Obie award winning play from 2010, “4000 Miles” is given a sumptuous revival by Sydney Theatre Company, directed by Kenneth Moraleda.  It was last seen in Sydney as an indie production in 2014.  The set up is simple: After finishing a bicycle trek across the US, from Seattle to New York, Leo arrives at 3am at his grandmother’s – Vera’s- looking for a place to stay. Leo has hauled plenty of baggage with him, which is unpacked over several weeks. Vera is a spirited elder who struggles with her aging body, failing mind and loneliness. An odd-couple-esque scenario ensues but never fear, these two travellers through life find they have more in common than once thought.  There is a fascinating writers note  on the STC website that explains Herzog’s inspiration for the play – based as it is on her late grandmother (an outspoken communist agitator). What is striking to me is the notion of the 4000 mile distance that became a rite of passage for young Americans dating back to the 1960s and 1970s. Rather than slide into a life of comfort and consumption young people took to the road armed with copies of Walt Whitman, Rainer Maria, Rilke and Kahlil Gibran and commenced a meditative journey filled with the most heartfelt encounters that would soften even the most cynical amongst us.  Strangers open homes to cook meals, provide shelter and advice. In his book “Walking to Listen” Andre Forsthoefel (one such seeker) concludes that there is only one story he needs to accept: his own. It was "the only way I was ever going to find peace, otherwise I'd be wandering forever, searching for an impossible something else."  And so it is with Leo in this play.  Having survived the brutal death of his best friend on the road he finds himself in limbo when arriving in New York and is confronted with a woman who understands death from a different point of view. There’s the parallel story involving Vera’s cross-the-hall neighbour, an aging former actor. The two women call each other daily to make sure that neither one has dropped dead without anyone knowing it. The snatches of calls provide humour and eventually leads to a touching final scene that gently underscores Herzog’s theme of what constitutes community while ending the play on an elegant grace note. The importance of rituals in our lives is bought home by Leo’s ex-girlfriend who spells it out for us as she encourages Leo to dip his front bike wheel into the Atlantic – as it’s customary at the end of a transcontinental bicycle ride to dip the front wheels into the opposite ocean. Herzog never really deep dives into anything in this 90-minute play but between the politics, the rituals, the communication challenges and generational divide it is diverting, unoffensive and occasionally funny. Nancye Hayes (as Vera) is reason enough to go see this production. Her energy, precision and wry humour are sparkling gifts for the audience.  One wishes she had better material to play with. Shiv Palekar (as Leo) never really convinces as the self-proclaimed hippy but is charming enough in this slight work. Ariadne Sgouros is deft and certainly moving as Leo’s erstwhile girlfriend.  Shirong Wu is a bight spark of joy as a one-night stand in an hilarious scene where Vera’s books on communism more than dampen the sexy mood.  Jeremy Allen designs a beautiful Manhattan apartment which looks incredibly neat for a space that has not been redecorated since 1968. Perfect fare for a mid-week matinee. Review by Kate Gaul

Peter and the Starcatcher Capital Theatre, Sydney   "Peter and the Starcatcher" is a play based on the 2004 novel “Peter and the Starcatchers” by Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson, adapted for the stage by Rick Elice. The play provides a backstory for the characters of Peter Pan, Mrs Darling, Tinker Bell and Hook, and serves as a prequel to J. M. Barrie's Peter and Wendy. It was originally a Disney developed work and hales from the 2021 – 2014 period.  I mention this because while watching its Australian premiere courtesy of Queensland’s Dead Puppets Society I wondered why this why now?   I guess it’s a charming story of the origins of Peter Pan.  It offers great possibilities as an ensemble piece. This productiona feels like to belongs in a studio (sans volume turned up to 10) not a commercial theatre stage.  The staging techniques are smaller in scale with limited scenic and staging elements to play with – all deliberate decisions. Lovely on their own but lost in a production that is yearning to be bigger and bolder. The huddle of musician’s upstage centre is a delight but from the stalls the full-size upright pianos block the view of anything that might be happening from the band.  The cast is an interesting mix of theatre heavyweights with the likes of Alison Whyte, John Batchelor, Lucy Golby, Ryan Gonzalez - who bring first rate story-telling and characterisation to the stage – pitted against consummate comedians Colin Lane and Pete Helliar. Essentially and thankfully the comedy wins out and this production is basically a panto experience. There is plenty of the adults to chuckle too.  We never quite get a “he’s behind you” but almost…. Colin Lane is a laugh a minute and once the confusion about what this show is passes there are laughs a plenty.   The English accents are incredibly grating – why can’t this story be told in our voices???  And they are inconsistent – perhaps a deliberate comedic touch? The work’s sexual politics have been well critiqued since it first premiered off Broadway. To see a young woman (playing a 13-year-old) at the beck and call of three hapless boys (even when we and she know she is braver, stronger and possibly more intelligent) was mind numbing. Molly in this production has more agency than her counterpart in the original “Peter Pan” but not much. I couldn’t figure out who the Molluskes were until I realised this was a rendition/interpretation of the island’s “natives”. Ouch!!!   The performances are committed, the costumes colourful and the puppetry is serviceable. If you love a broad stroke panto this show is for you. Review by Kate Gaul

Rainbow Chan is an award-winning vocalist, producer and multi-disciplinary artist. Driven by a DIY spirit, Chan melds catchy melodies and off-kilter beats made up of field-recordings and found sounds. Both heartbreaking and tender, her idiosyncratic brand of pop reflects diasporic experiences and deeply personal tales of love and loss. In 2022, Chan was recognised in the "40 Under 40: Most Influential Asian Australians Award" for her contribution to arts and culture. She won "Artist of the Year" in the 2022 FBi SMAC Award In “The Bridal Lament” Chan draws on her Weitou ancestry (the first settlers of Hong Kong),and reimagines a Weitou ritual known as the bridal lament, a public performance of grief in which a bride wept and sang in front of family and friends. In this liminal space, brides expressed bitterness towards the prevailing patriarchal rule when arranged marriages took place by parents or even through matchmakers. This ritual tradition allows the bride to express her sorrow and loss of personal identity and marriage to a man she has never met. A husband that, in most cases, will take the bride away from her village, family, and friends. It was as if the bride had died. The husband-to-be was referred to as the King of Hell.Conceived and structured as a song cycle, “The Bridal Lament” (哭嫁歌), brings to life intergenerational and cross-cultural perspectives on diasporic experiences and the complex history of Hong Kong. With direction from Contemporary Asian Australian Performance’s (CAAP) Artistic Director Tessa Leong, this is an elegant and sophisticated production. Over 70 minutes, Chan beguiles and captivates as she takes us through the stages of the bridal process. Our journey is told through song and narration, striking projection and lighting.  The music is all modern and electronic, pre-recorded.  Chan moves delicately sometimes with her entire body or maybe just a hand or finger – everything is poised, hypnotic and infectious. Each song is preceded with a recoded narration from Chan’s mother (in Cantonese) translated into English via the spectacular projection (Rel Pham).  This was charming and very moving as we have a direct contact with a community elder, passing down story and tradition only to be made new by her daughter. Onstage there is a huge crystal bead curtain – more of an installation in one part of the stage (designed by Al Joel and Emily Borghi).  Its shape echoes a square Chinese character.  The character we are told means “return”, “cycle”, “new beginning” –the multiple but related meanings are all there for us to reflect on as is the way Chan moves within and around the installation – to be caught, carried, hidden and ultimately freed. “The Bridal Lament” is a beautiful and mighty work that resonates deeply long after it is over. As theatre it is a breath of fresh air with a deeply felt but lightly held insight into migrant experience, the plight of women and the (still prevalent) arranged marriage culture. The unique story and the level of artistry make it a Sydney Festival highlight this year. Not to be missed! Kate Gaul

Bribery, deception and disguise: “The Barber of Seville” tells the story of two young lovers and their quest to be together. Main character Figaro needs all his wiles to help the Count outwit Dr Bartolo and ensure true love wins the day. Originally directed by the great and much-loved Elijah Moshinsky for Opera Australia, this production hails from 1995.  This is its fifth revival with the company. Composed by the lively Rossini - the most significant composer of the first half the nineteenth century.  Italian Rossini was influenced by the French, and broke traditional forms of opera by using unusual rhythms to bring the orchestra to the fore. “The Barber of Seville” is considered a great comic opera.  Count Almaviva is pursuing Rosina, a beautiful young woman he has fallen in love with. He disguises himself as a poor student so she will love him for himself rather than his wealth and position. Almaviva faces fierce opposition from Rosina’s guardian, Dr. Bartolo, who wants Rosina and her substantial dowry for himself. To help him succeed, the love-sick count enlists the help of Figaro, the quick-witted barber who frequently visits Bartolo’s house. Revived with brio by director Heather Fairbairn this current iteration is charming. The Buster Keaton-esque production has plenty to look at and there is a mountain of precision required in the staging to match the effervescent music. In spite of the fun, it can be a tough sit-through. It’s a long evening of the same comedic territory over and over again.  The story is banal and the production deals with the dodgy sexual politics by making it all cartoonish.   The star of the night is the music and under the baton of conductor Daniel Smith who makes his Australian Opera debut.  The production begins with a bang – Smith intends to play this opera fast and the overture received an incredible applause.  The spirit, joy and love are evident from this brilliant conductor. In an “In Conversation”  interview Smith revealed that this was his first operatic experience at the age of 9 and it was in fact this  production.  So, a bit of a full circle moment for him!  This was a wonderful evening of music.   Samuel Dale Johnson impresses as Figaro.  He sings with great flourish and completely embodies the physical style required by this production.  He is fluid and daring in his slap-stick style.  His work is at its best when it feels improvised, and he delivers with pinpoint accuracy. Rosina is sung by Italian Serena Malfi and demonstrates a sparkling bel canto style. John Longmuir as Almaviva is similarly impressive.   Standouts include Andrew Moran as Dr Bartolo who articulates with great dexterity and clarity and understands the power of standing still to convey his authority.  David Parkin is ridiculously creepy as Don Basilio and eats the scenery accordingly. Soprano, Jane Ede – the only other woman in the piece - plays Berta. In this production Berta is a nurse who is fond of mixing a cocktail or three. She is quite the scene stealer with her mostly silent role and when she did sing it was off the charts brilliant!   This production has a long season which reflects the opera’s popularity.  It is a splendid opportunity to catch Maestro Daniel Smith in action and hope that it won’t be the last time he is engaged by Opera Australia. Kate Gaul

Or What’s Left of Us Summerhall Sh!t Theatre are Rebecca Biscuit & Louise Mothersole. They make politically engaged shows with a deliberately DIY aesthetic using a collage of live documentary, song, comedy and multimedia. They research, write and perform their own work, also taking the roles of lighting, sound, video designer and musical director between the two. They make superficially chaotic but actually deeply crafted shows that are frequently fuelled by political anger ‘It is possible to be desperately sad and have fun at the same time” declare Rebecca Biscuit and Louise Mothersole in Sh!t Theatre’s Or What’s Left of Us,  and what a mantra that proves to be.  The origin of this production is inspired by the momentous losses both experienced - of a parent in Mothersole’s case, and of a partner in Biscuit’s: Adam Brace, who was also the team’s director. How do you go on after this? How do you continue to create? The show isn’t particularly sad.  For most of the hour the pair bring their usual intelligence, tom foolery, humour, and brilliant close harmony singing to the fore.  They pass around a bowl of beer and tell us how they joined the community of a Yorkshire folk club and take mushrooms before attending a music festival and cross paths with Steeleye Span. There’s a great story about a tea towel! They wear a black and white combo of medieval peasant costume and for some of the show don Wicker Man- esque headress.  They talk about the film Midsummer.   They explain that they are not using a slideshow for this show, and neither are they wearing their usual white face. Turning to folk helped them get through a rough patch. They’re both great singers and music has always featured prominently in their work, and  Or What’s Left of Us  has them performing folk ballads, songs which often are ribboned with death. These songs, about the harvest, the passing seasons and the possibility of renewal, took on new painful resonance. It’s not until the end of the show that the duo – Rebecca in particular – try and expel the poison, spitting out bitter, absurd shards of painful memory, from feeling weirded out by the dressed body to a bizarre chat with a New York Times obituary writer.  The last 10 minutes are as raw, candid and personal as it gets, and somehow managed to be about their specific experience of loss as well as capturing the brutal rug-pull of losing anyone suddenly. Following the show we’re invited to hang out with Sh!t Theatre in the Summerhall bar and sing some songs. It’s entirely optional but it’s a unique and generous offer from these confident and beautiful performers. Sometimes we need to sing together. Some quotes around this show which I think are interesting from Rebecca Biscuit and Louise Mothersole: “There’s a widespread, ancient belief that excessive grief disturbs the dead; that your tears will burn holes in the corpse of your loved one. Which is why it’s important to get merry at funerals, and why this show has jokes. Joy and sorrow don’t cancel each other out - they can exist at the same time.” “We genuinely got into folk music because we were looking for a way to be together in our grief, and this show has come organically out of our very real love for folk music and the real joy we felt when we first went to a sing around at a folk club. At the same time, we aren’t going to shy away from the horror of grief.” “Folk can be twee. Yes, it is a bit embarrassing. But it’s also unnerving, terrifying, comforting and joyful. Sh!t Theatre strives for the same. Twee and terrifying.” One of this year’s best at Edinburgh Fringe. The really great news is that Sh!t Theatre are part of Sydney Fringe’s International Touring Hub in September 2024 (at New Theatre) with an earlier show called Drink Rum with Expats . They are super cool artists and create rigorous and inspired work. Highly recommended! Kate Gaul

Danish company fix+foxy produces original experimental work of theatre, sound performances and digital formats. The work is driven by curiosity and a desire to create complex narratives through playful, entertaining, and accessible formats while challenging our prejudices – our presumptions and misconceptions about ourselves and the world around us. “Dark Noon” is one of the most staggering and relentless experiences I have had in the theatre. In “Dark Noon fix+foxy collaborate with black South African actors in white face to create an epic examination of formative events from North America’s history. There are cowboy cruelties, sexual assaults, summary executions of native Americans in the dust; a saloon, gold mine, railway and church, actors film a western with cowboys and Indians, gold diggers, missionaries, and a host of deadly gunfights. Together with director Tue Biering and choreographer Nhlanhla Mahlangu the actors dive into a time when 35 million hungry and poor Europeans fled west across the Atlantic to get a second chance, conquer gold and chase an American dream. Neither black nor white lives matter in the pursuit of happiness and the relationship between the West and Africa is turned inside out. The audience never knows what to expect; we are dragged onstage to be sold Coca-Cola or sold off in a slave auction. This is savage theatre, an electric 100 minutes which is part documentary, part fiction told by cannibalising wild west cliches – the shootout, the saloon, the little house on the prairie – only to eviscerate them with increasingly entertaining displays of post-colonial vandalism. “They say history is told by the victors,” the show’s tagline reads. “In “Dark Noon”, the story is told by the vanquished.” Broken into chapters and beginning on a large, empty stage of dry clay on canvas, North America is literally built before our eyes. An entire frontier town is gradually constructed on stage. Multilingual, supported by live video and a revolving suite of narrators, song, comedy, and physicality “Dark Noon” exposes the awful absurdity of the notion of European supremacy that has permeated and dominates the global imagination. The show uses the tropes of Wild West cinema conventions (the Western) to critique the invasion of the Americas and position the frontier as a site of colonial violence. It's often gruesome and leans into grand guignol as “Dark Noon” is as expansive as it is personal, chaotic, and intimate. The tawdry theatricality of a cheap blonde wig atop a hastily whitened face becomes sweat stained and smeared with dirt and lipstick. Action frantically mounts as cheerleaders dance while First Nations peoples are massacred. Meta theatricality is rife and all contributed to a rich historical and social commentary. “Dark Noon” is a unique event in my theatre going life and I am very pleased to have experienced this brilliant creation. Kate Gaul

Fell Carriageworks   Sometimes Sydney gets it right.  Hanging out at Carrriageworks this week is one of those occasions where the Liveworks festival has the place jumping.  The venue is vibrant with artists and audiences all eager to share, experience all that is on offer in this nine-year old, five day program. Liveworks 2024 subverts expectations via performance, dance, interactive installations and full-blown musical ensemble works. It’s Sydney go-to event for experimental arts and is ever more important as making arts becomes out of the reach of many as we juggle making a living and attracting audiences. In the foyer of Carriageworks hangs an elegant (real) log suspended by yellow ropes. This log, it turns out, has been repurposed from the last production in Bay 17, Sydney Chamber Opera’s “Gilgamesh”. The performance starts in the foyer as audience members are invited to carry the log into the theatre space. It is gently lowered onto their shoulders and carried – like a coffin.  The foyer has already become quite and focussed during this event, and we follow procession like into Bay 17.  A massive white floor and backdrop serve as the canvas for the next part of the event. Lighting by Katie Sfetkidis is stark but not glaring.  The natural colour of the log, its yellow ropes and green of performer Luke George’s shorts are a striking combination. The 75 kg log is gently placed on the stage floor and Luke George proceeds to assemble the ropes and knots that will lift it and him high into the air over the next 40 minute or so.   In “Fell”, Luke George retraces his roots in Tasmania / lutruwita, recalling the impacts of the logging industry. The marketing blurb tells us that “in seeking a state of balance between himself and a log that is equal in weight to his body, George attempts to suspend the narrative of a human will to power so that other memories, including those of nature might also become sensible.” From and SMH interview, “Most of my childhood and teens were spent in or around the bush,” he says. “I also grew up amidst the state’s logging, mining and energy industries that would clear-fell vast stretches of old-growth forests. We lived in communities where neighbours quite literally were on either side of the fence of environmental politics and practices.   “Tensions were high. So much was at stake. Yet somehow, people had to live and find a way to co-exist in this tough terrain and climate.”   “Fell” is performed without a soundtrack.  It holds the audience in its thrall. As the log and human become suspended high in the cavernous space of Bay 17, Luke George leans back and both human and log are perfectly balanced.  It is possibly dangerous but transcends such notions as the image resonates with reminders of ongoing struggles played out in areas threatened by logging.  Importantly, it is a moment of respite, a utopian vision, a powerful plea for change. Utterly brilliant. Kate Gaul

Smile Emerging Artists Sharehouse    The story of the greatest physical comedian of all time – Charlie Chaplin – is given a stunning one-hour treatment and re telling by one of the most dazzling performers to emerge on the fringe circuit: dancer, actor, singer Marcel Cole.    Being a classical dancer and burgeoning clown it is not a huge stretch to imagine why Marcel Cole chose Chaplin as his character and subject matter in this new show which premiered at Sydney Fringe 3 days ago. The show will take a while to truly blossom but in its current form it is both entertaining and enlightening.  Cole tells the story of Chaplin’s life from having been born into dereliction to becoming one of the most (if not THE most) influential artist of his time. He spanned the transition from silent films to the talkies like a titan only to be exiled from America. He was accused of communist sympathies, and some members of the press and public were scandalised by his involvement in a paternity suit and marriages to much younger women. An FBI investigation was opened, and Chaplin was forced to leave the U.S. in 1952 and settle in Switzerland. Marcel Cole dresses as Chaplin’s “Little Tramp” throughout complete with pale face, heavy eyebrows and toothbrush moustache. He has even curled his hair under the recognisable bowler hat.  An ambitious and charming element of the show is that Cole enlists the audience to help tell the story.  Through gesture and the occasional whispered instruction Cole has us playing the police, the rich robbed guy at the end of the Little Tramp’s antics; his mother, his brother and eventually the woman he marries before exile. As time shifts and Chaplin uses his voice on film things become somewhat easier in communication.  Having said that, Cole’s gestural language is to die for, and his gentle, elegant performance style has us transfixed. The performance is assisted by some classy projected titles that provide the dialogue in the first half of and headlines to advance action and fill some gaps.  We get a snippet from the great “Modern Times” but it is Cole’s treatment of the telling of both the creation and content of his first sound film “The Great Dictator” that is worth the price of admission. Stripped to black undies, a red armband and peaked cap his ballet chops come to the fore and we are transported by a crazed dictator and this interpretation of the famous Chaplin globe dance underscored by Wagner’s prelude from the opera “Lohengrin”. This scene encapsulates both Chaplin and Cole’s physical and comedic gifts in a way that is biting and timeless. It is both romantic and scary as we contemplate a modern would-be dictator in Trump. Though dialogue adds beauty and expression to our world, some emotions are so complex that they can only be expressed through movement. Movement and dance can bring out subtleties in emotion that speech will never fully explain. For this reason, Charlie Chaplin’s ability to incorporate dance into his film work deepened his abilities as an actor and allowed him to tell stories in an interesting and frankly beautiful way. Marcel Cole will make you laugh and cry. See if you can catch his “Smile” before it leaves town.  His multi award winning “The Ukulele Man” plays next week.   Kate Gaul

Hemlines Emerging Artists Sharehouse   In a 25-seat fringe theatre venue in the Erskineville Town Hall is a wee gem of a piece devised by Director Amelia Gilday, and performers Madison Chippendale, Lana Filies and Alicia Badger.  “Hemlines” as it says on the packet – is a fresh and provocative piece of devised theatre that balances on the razor's edge between the silly and the serious. It is produced by Moon Bureau.   The audience enters and three women dressed in fabulous white frilly bloomers and matching peasant tops ritualistically weave three ribbons into a maypole-esque structure on stage.  It is a calm, gracious action which creates a feeling of the carefree and private. I could have watched that all night.  During the piece there is excellent movement with lanterns and retractable measuring tapes – all delightful.  Dialogue ensues.  It seems that these women are in a kind of limbo with time a kind of irrelevant measurement.  On day or one hundred years -none of this matters.  These three fates – Doris, Florence and Eleanor – are seamstresses who sew women’s garments, stitch hems, and sort haberdashery. They all have distinct personalities, desires and challenges.  There’s the inevitable squabbles and conflicts which belong to a very recognisable world. There are songs.   Do they ever yearn to be free of this world?  Well as in all good drama there does need to be a purpose and yes, they want out.  But how?  They consult a giant needle called Genny (that’s Jenny with a G) who is a kind of oracle. They are tempted through the eye of a needle. Essentially, “Hemlines” is asking whether we have power to change the course of a myriad of forces that shape us.  Additionally, what are the threads that bind us together?   Madison Chippendale brings a gloriously wistful quality to the work.  As a performer she has real mystery.  The writing is OK, but her personal quality and the final speech gave “Hemlines” a real charge and a call to action: “Atlas with the world on his shoulders, he gets all the glory. What about us? No one ever talks about Eleanor’s impeccable seams. We’re just supposed to take pride in a job well done. I suppose we do; take pride. In our work, in each other. Though I’d never say it out loud. But I am proud of their work. Even Floss. Sometimes.    … Do you ever feel like your entire self is tied up in what you do? That you don’t know who you are when everything is torn away? I’ve been doing this job for as long as I can remember but today’s the first time I’m going to change the pattern.”   Alicia Badger has authority and a clarity onstage and provides a consistent core to the work. All beautifully working as a foil to Lana Filles bubbly chaotic energy.  Let’s face it there needs to be grit in the oyster to make a pearl.   “Hemlines” is an imaginative, lively and enigmatic addition to the Sydney Fringe program.  The team of emerging artists behind it promise great things ahead.  So get down to the Sharehouse and see them and you can say you saw them when…..   Kate Gaul

Augusta Emerging Artists Sharehouse   Sydney Fringe really comes alive at the Emerging Artists Sharehouse at Erskineville Town Hall.  The building – transformed into a number of small theatres – is the perfect place for a hub and the diversity of the audience speaks to its success as a venue. With a queue spilling out and onto the pavement it was the perfect night for some fringe action.  Subtlenuance is a local theatre company that has quietly gone about the business of creating and developing new work since 2008. The website tells us “Our focus is the exploration of political and philosophical ideas. We believe theatre is a forum for many voices; an art form especially suited to both the exploration and creation of subtlety and nuance. Through these two qualities our world becomes richer.”   Tonight, it’s the premiere of “Augusta” written by Paul Gilchrist and directed by Daniela Giorgi. Paul loves his historical figures, and this taut one act play tells of the first woman of Rome, Honoria- sister of an emperor. She’s rich, she has it all, but she doesn’t wield the kind of power that the men have. She has a brother whom she considers to be much less able, so she hatches a plan and sets it in motion. Oh, and in case you’re confused about the name – she has the name Augusta bestowed upon her as a great honour but as it didn’t amount to much in reality, she was forced to write to gool ol’ Atilla the Hun. Because of various scandals.  He then interprets her letter as a marriage proposal… Anyway, go see the show for yourself to get the story.  Don’t be put off by its historical roots this is far from a dry retelling of history.   What is striking about the play is it feels so very contemporary – not only in its dissection of power and the place and role of women - but its dialogue is witty, very funny and often poetic.  Megan Bennetts inhabits the titular role with aplomb.  With loads of stage charisma and effervescent authority she commands the stage.  We laugh, we feel for her, and we even identify with her courage. Russell Cronin plays the male roles – all of whom have very florid names: Hyacinthus, Eugenius and Valentinian.  He covers the territory well enough but doesn’t always find the balance between playing a fool and being foolish.  The characters don’t know they are fools and it’s up to Augustus to outwit them and show them up for who they are. Brilliantly still and mostly silent is Alyona Popova who delivers a crystal-clear Prologue and Epilogue.  During the action of the play she kneels as Sisek, a servant – always present, a witness, always listening. There are no small roles, as they say….   Director Daniela Giorgi has the action played around a central chair in a royal luscious blue colour.  Sisek wears a contemporary green dress, and the main characters wear garments constructed to look like something out of ancient Rome.  It’s all super evocative and visually astute. Being a fringe show there is a limit to what can be achieved technically and thankfully the production does not rely on other elements.   “Augusta” is a solid, mature piece of work and well worth your time as part of an evening out in Erskineville this fringe.   Kate Gaul

Voices of Joan PACT Theatre   Review by Kate Gaul   Whale Chorus presents Janie Gibson in her original solo performance “Voices of Joan”. Based in Newcastle, Australia, Whale Chorus is a professional theatre company in the Hunter region. From the website: “Our mission is to reinvigorate theatre’s true function as a ritual of reconnection. We tell heart-centred stories, from Shakespeare to boundary pushing original plays, and experiment with new ways of engaging audiences through immersive, immediate and enlivening theatre.”   Joan of Arc is well worn territory for performance. Joan was a 17-year-old peasant girl from France who bravely led army forces against English invasion under the influence of divine inspiration. She was tried and burned alive at the stake by her enemies for crimes of heresy, sedition and witchcraft. She was burned three times to destroy all bodily remains, and her ashes dumped in the River Seine. 20 years later, the verdict was overturned, and Joan was cleared of all crimes. Her canonisation in 1920 solidified in her place in history as a martyr and a saint, one who would be remembered for her bravery and courage long after all her pious self-righteous accusers had perished.   Oppression, violence, the patriarchy, media, politics are all ripe subjects for the theatre. “ Voices of Joan”  explores Joan’s trial in a minefield of misogynistic beliefs that persist to the present day. Gibson is a charismatic presence, and she explores Joan anew with wit and humour.   As we enter the theatre Jamie Gibson sits on stage and is present with us.  She has an old-school radio come cassette player from with emanates a staticky sound of bad tuning and messages partially received. Instantly we know this is a production of fragments, of words spoken and captured, recorded and repeated forever resonating in the air around us.  Some we recognise but what we understand is that as an audience we are involved, and complicit in its outcomes. These are calls to action, to war and division – the world of the 15th century isn’t so remote. It’s a clever and apt lens through which to receive this telling and interpretation of Joan’s story.  It also positions the audience as a witness to the action and opinions, not a passive outside force.   The words of Joan’s trial are a starting point - as they have been forever interpreted – Gibson builds a story about gender and slippery truth. Anu Almagro (Song of the Goat Theatre) directs. Gibson tells this story through embodying a multitude of characters (Bishop, Judge, young woman…).  To do so she makes elaborate onstage transformations with costumes, wigs and props. She swaps clothes with a male audience member and thereby changes the presentation of her femininity. Great the first time but it is a tedious technique with such fragmentary material and broke the flow of an otherwise crafted buildup of ideas and – presumably the intention – audience anger, empathy, understanding. The audience interaction is confident and smartly handled. The swapping of clothes as mentioned, the invitation to read aloud or write things down all culminates in achieving a stunning ending with all audience members rising from their seats to create Joan’s pyre. Music and dramatic lighting support the production.  One striking section of the content is Gibson’s excavation of text from a book called ‘Hammer of the Witches” – a treatise on witchcraft. It is a ridiculous and very dangerous compendium of demonology which ultimately condemned many, many women to execution. “Voices of Joan” is all a bit loose and its tricky at times to appreciate the thematic cohesion, but its glue comes from a line repeated: “Once a word is spoken, its sound exists forever.” A haunting invocation for our times.    Kate Gaul