The Lisbon Traviata - Garrick Theatre (14 April 2024)

Ah, the opera! An art form full of heightened storytelling, glorious voices, big emotions, and sublime music. Love, jealousy, lust, betrayal, comic misunderstandings, and tragedy all writ large, "often at the same time" as *Eric Idle might say. In that world composers, conductors, musicians, and singers can become immortal. Stars such as influential opera singer Maria Callas who shone as bright as any during the mid-20th century. 

Now, a recent attendance at a performance of Mozart's The Marriage of Figaro notwithstanding, I cannot claim to be an opera fan let alone an aficionado. This is not the case for two of the characters in playwright Terrence McNally's love letter to Callas. They are immersed in opera - they exchange rapid fire references to performances and recordings down to the exact date and location as they disparage other opera luminaries whilst adoring Callas as an unimpeachable goddess. It's very specific and while I catch many of the obvious references most sail waaaaaaaaay over my head. 

Two things come from this. Firstly, kudos to actors Adam Poole (Stephen) and Martyn Churcher (Mendy) who plough through a staggering amount of names, places, titles, and operatic ephemera, oftentimes singing excerpts from the pieces they are discussing. The second is, I need something to ground myself in this arcane setting as we settle into Stephen and Mendy's discourse which comprises the bulk of the first half. Sure, there's way more going on but we'll get to that a little later. For now, I'm trying to navigate my way to a place of perspective even though I may not grasp the specifics.

In this I am helped by a brief pre-show conversation with director Barry Park. I come away from this surmising that Maria Callas was the Taylor Swift of her day. Yes, I can hear the gnashing of teeth and sharpening of knives from true opera lovers as I type this. But it gives me a point of reference. Mendy would have made a tremendous Swiftie - he is obsessed by Callas. He knows everything about her. Consumes vast quantities of her work and voraciously seeks out rare and previously unheard recordings such as, you guessed it, the Lisbon Traviata. 

I know this feeling - when I left high school I moved out of home to share a house with three friends and we were always at Dada Records (those were the days!) eagerly looking for rare bootleg live recordings of bands such as Pink Floyd. In other words, passionate 'fandom' is a concept I can handily latch onto here. 

Mendy is the diva of the two and Churcher plays him suitably large with more than a touch of Nathan Lane about him. Stephen appears the more unaffected but as the first half unfurls we learn that he fears his relationship with Mike (Patrick Downes) is on rocky ground due to Mike's dalliance with the younger Paul (Alex Comstock). That first half is big, sumptuous (a gorgeously dressed set by Park), over-the-top, and there are laughs to be found in the outlandish nature of, particularly, Mendy's foibles. It also sows plenty of seeds for what's to come. 

The second half takes a somewhat abrupt turn in location, look, and especially tone. We relocate to Stephen's apartment which he shares with Mike only to find Paul is also there. By comparison, the set is antiseptic and ordered with a wonderful depiction of hundreds of albums and CDs on the rear flat. Initially it's like a set-up for an opera - Stephen, the villain, comes in to find the mismatched lovers (Mike and Paul) with Mendy intruding briefly for comic relief. 

But then something far more interesting happens - Stephen becomes the diva. He pleads with Mike to love him after he crassly makes multiple passes at Paul. Things escalate from there until that heightened storytelling and big emotions associated with opera explode into a fury of jealousy and rage. The over-the-top pretentions of the first half morph into the even bigger emotions of the second. 

By the end of the play you come to realise that Maria Callas symbolises a relationship that was one-sided and never real. That obsession isn't a substitution for love. That finding that rare recording or moment can't rekindle something that is over. As the lights slowly fade on our tragic figures (Lighting designer Mark Nicholson) the trajectory of Mike and Stephen's relationship appears as if it were always fated, like the plot of an opera which is the clever conceit at the heart of this. 

The acting is excellent throughout - Churcher, as mentioned, is all flourishes and vain remonstrations as he plays the full tilt diva to the hilt. Poole gets to go just as large in the second half, albeit in an increasingly melodramatic way, as his Stephen unravels with jealousy and fear. Downes is more grounded as the doctor who has tired of Stephen and fallen for Paul, and provides a rock solid foundation for Poole to bounce off as Stephen becomes more desperate. Comstock provides some shock value to start but plays Paul with a "whatever, man" disdain that's a nice counterpoint to the roiling emotions of the others.

Sound design plays a critical role and is well-handled (Sound operator Jeremy Moore) with the recordings of Callas performances, household effects, and phone message recordings, while there is a focus on the equipment used to play these vinyl records with turntables and stereo kits that will be familiar to anyone from that era (mid-80s). The production also utilises an American dialect coach (Phillip Steele-Young) and Foreign languages coach (Grace Edwards) so the New York accent work and pronunciation of opera terms, lyrics, and names was notable.   

The density and specificity of the opera references might keep audiences at arm's length from this initially but it's well worth persisting with because there's a complex and genuine human tragedy that emerges from under all the "operatic" bluster. 

This is the third play in a row I've seen by director Barry Park that tackles such complexity in forthright and honest ways after The York Realist and The Normal Heart last year. He's to be commended for continuing to present such challenging material at a high level in Perth's vibrant community theatre space. The Lisbon Traviata runs until 27 April at Garrick Theatre in Guildford.

*Eric Idle wrote the Tony award winning musical 'Spamalot' with John Du Prez. McNally takes a few pot shots at musical theatre and while I can tolerate 'Cats' being taken for a walk and even 'The Sound of Music', you're messing with trouble when you go after Sondheim and 'Sweeney Todd'! 

Time After Time - FiFi Productions (6 April 2024)

Two people meet for the first time. There is a shared interest, a spark, an attraction. That attraction grows into something far more but is cruelly torn apart by circumstances outside of the couple's control. Loss follows. But what if these two people - these two souls - were always meant to be together no matter what obstacles the universe throws in their path? 

This is the premise for the one act play Time After Time written by Fiona Blakely who also directs with fellow 'Fi', Fiona Wildsmith. It explores soulmates, the possibility of reincarnation, that feeling of deja vu you sometimes get when meeting someone new, and, perhaps most of all, what would you risk to be with your soulmate even if you knew the possible consequences. 

We first meet our fated couple on Platform 3 of the Perth Train Station prior to the First World War. Johnathon, a wharfie played by Alan Gill, waits for a mate arriving from Fremantle. Olive, a writer and dreamer played by Jaimee Peasley, is going to Kojonup to find a husband. It's a perfectly lovely encounter that becomes something more when a young Scallywag (Thomas Ranieri) being chased by a Train Conductor (Matthew Mckail) bumps into Olive causing the contents of her suitcase to cascade to the ground. Johnathon innocently retrieves a journal of Olive's stories and drawings. From there they bond over a shared love of the Bronte Sisters. But would that have happened without the Scallywag's intervention?

The result of that initial meeting plays out in a filmed montage where Johnathon waits at the train station for Olive to return, their courtship, and eventual marriage. We then return to live action as Johnathon is about to go to war. Their separation is painful as the horror of the "Great War" hovers over the couple. Archival footage of the war reveals Johnathon's fate and a filmed scene shows Olive's devastation on receiving the news of his death. 

The play then jumps forward to the second of four stanzas where Jimmy, a trade unionist, meets Oli, a secretary with a knack for editing her employer's copy. Again we're on Platform 3 and disaster looms in the form of the Second World War. We'll also meet Jack and Olivia in a time of civil unrest as the Vietnam War unfolds, and eventually end up with Jackson and Liv in the present day. These interactions play out in slightly different fashion and take on the characteristics of their time in terms of language, costume, attitude, and mood. 

It becomes clear that the 'Olive incarnation' has some sense of the feeling of repeated loss and actively pushes the 'Johnathon incarnation' away in the Vietnam stanza breaking the loop of tragedy but at the cost of time shared together. The final stanza changes the equation yet again as Liv makes a decision that may change their fate or might indeed reconstitute the loop they have found themselves in. The romantic will favour the former; the cynic might wonder if this is a tragedy after all. 

There is a distinct structure and rhythm to each of these four sections. The scene is set with wonderful archival footage of the period in question projected on a screen at the rear of the stage. Then there is the 'meet cute' on the platform in live action followed by filmed sequences of the couple together as their relationship deepens. We rejoin the actors onstage for a separation sequence where they're caught up in the maelstrom of impending war with more archival footage that shows its conclusion. 

A lot of love, care, and attention to detail has gone into the creation and staging of this production. The costumes, wigs and props are all excellent and clearly reflect the distinct time periods. The set design is simple but effective - a bench and old-fashioned wooden display showing a clock and the stations along the Fremantle line. The use of archival footage to set time and place is spot on (Film Edit & Music Isobel Blakely) and the filmed sequences (DOP Madyson Dewar) between Gill and Peasley showcase various local locations and are an effective shorthand to exploring a relationship in a condensed fashion. Sound and Lighting Design by Tendekai Mafukidze and Felicia Tang respectively provides mood and context.

The performances by Alan Gill and Jaimee Peasley, however, are the lynchpin to making the premise work. They effectively create distinctive characters in the different time periods while imbuing each incarnation with a recognisable essence - Johnathon/Jimmy/Jack/Jackson predominantly helps others (trade unionist, nurse) with a working class vibe (wharfie) while Olive/Oli/Olivia/Liv is more a free spirit (dreamer, writer, peace activist) with a creative bent. Their interactions both onstage and onscreen are charming. It's also an interesting mix of acting styles - Gill is the more theatrical while Peasley has a naturalistic approach from an extensive film background. 

The one thing I did wonder about was about the nature of their connection. It was pitched more as "do I know you?" rather than two soulmates immediately recognising each other. But that may be a strength of the writing here because I've been mulling the possibilities ever since - are they doomed to never truly be together? Forces seem determined to place them in the same orbit but the universe continually works to pull them apart. If they are reincarnations are they doomed to never grow old? We know how one character dies in some of the stanzas but how did the other die before they could be reunited? Who or what exactly are the Scallywag and his modern day version, Eshay (Anthony Ranieri), who nudge the outcome in a certain direction? 

It reminds me of an underrated film that I love with a similar idea, The Adjustment Bureau, where Matt Damon's character defies preordained fate to make his own destiny with Emily Blunt's character. They don't quite stick the landing on that one but it's also a fascinating exploration of a love that defies the universe or whatever word you might choose to use for a greater power. 

Time After Time is a charming and intriguing production at Byford Secondary College for 4 more performances on 12-14 April with a matinee on 7 April.