The Pillowman - Hayman Theatre Company (28 November 2023)

A writer sits alone in a grimy interrogation room in some unnamed totalitarian state, head covered with a hood. His 'peculiar' brother is in the room next door. Two police detectives thunder in to take him to task about child murders that closely resemble stories he has written. Far too closely. He fears for his brother and his own safety - torture and execution are on the cards - but also fights for the preservation of the very stories that have landed him in this predicament. 

So begins The Pillowman, a brilliantly written play by Martin McDonagh who has subsequently made a splash in Hollywood with In Bruges, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, and The Banshees of Inisherin. It is confronting, bleak, darkly funny, thought provoking, and a blistering piece of theatre. 

It explores a writer's responsibility (or not) for the material they bring into the world; the culpability (or not) of those who may act on those stories in ways that weren't intended; the reasons why a writer may write the way they do; the choice of subject matter and themes they may explore even in the face of censorship; and the legacy they leave behind with their work. It is a tale full of stories - dark stories, twisted stories, stories that rarely have a happy ending but valid stories nonetheless. It's also a tale about two brothers and their bond, forged through the power of storytelling for better or for worse.

Those stories are teased out in expert fashion to reveal more about these people trapped in what otherwise might pass as purgatory. Even the police detectives who are brutal, hectoring, and relentless in response to the horror these stories have unleashed. There are twists, reversals, gasp inducing consequences, and even the faintest hint of a happy ending... if you need to grasp for such conclusions.   

But let me be clear. In a hallmark of McDonagh's writing it is also savagely funny. Sure, you're not going to get served up sitcom-style softballs but there is wit, intent, and intelligence behind the humour that will get under your skin. Yes, it is deliberately designed to provoke but the provocation is more than worth it. 

Director Travis Koch has assembled an excellent company of Hayman alumni and existing students, both on and off the stage. From the look of the play, the sound of it, and the performances, this is exceptional independent theatre not for the fainthearted.  

It all starts with that writer - Katurian K. Katurian - played by Samuel Ireland in a towering performance. Ireland is rarely off-stage and conveys such a wide array of emotions, mostly in a heightened state, that he is physically drained by the end of the play. His appearance, through makeup, costuming, and astute acting choices, slowly unravels to reflect the toll the character has exacted. Weary and haggard by the end, he looks like he's been put through the ringer and then some. Ireland convincingly portrays the confusion and fear of this unexpected bind Katurian finds himself in while also radiating moments of strength and defiance. His writer clings to a healthy sense of ego in the face of blunt 'literary criticism' from his accusers. But it's the empathy he shows for his brother Michal that is most affecting. An empathy that leads Katurian to do the unthinkable in a gut-wrenching moment. I was also impressed with his reactions to other characters - we know exactly what Katurian is thinking especially during one revelation that tilts everything on its head. All this while delivering his lines with a credible Irish accent. It's marvellous work.  

His brother Michal is played by Colin Gilligan who sports an authentic Irish accent having recently moved to Perth from the Emerald Isle. Michal is a profoundly damaged character who is too easily passed off by the cops as being 'slow' or a 'retard'. We will come to discover the awful truth about why this is. Gilligan successfully walks an incredibly tricky line between making Michal oblivious and canny. It's a fascinating performance and his long scene with Ireland in the second act of the play is mesmerising. 

On the other side of the interrogation table is Amber Gilmour as Tupolski, the self-proclaimed "good cop". Gilmour brings a casual cynicism and snarkiness to the detective who seems none too fussed about the use of torture to extract a confession. The story she tells Katurian in the third act to demonstrate her skill at 'detecting' is hilariously bad before the mood abruptly switches to being far more callous. The "bad cop" of the duo, Ariel, is played by Wilson Gilburt. Physically imposing, Gilburt revels in the 'torture' of Katurian, favouring a far blunter approach than his partner. He's not quite as compelling in the quieter moments where Ariel's actions and change of motivation are somewhat hazy. That's largely because Ariel's own revelation is treated perhaps a little too lightly in a moment of shtick with Tupolski. 

Kate Naunton Morgan and T. Mutta Beilby play various incarnations of Mother and Father with disturbing charm in one instance and even more disturbing cruelty in another. Arthur Brown is the Child, both real and imagined, and they exude an air of innocence even in the most alarming of situations.  

The world Koch has created along with Set Designer T. Mutta Beilby and Lighting & Sound Designer Sebastian Boyd adds to the sense of unease. The decay of the interrogation room is palpable from the rust stains on the filing cabinet to the mould on the walls, accentuated by the single light hovering ominously above the table. There is a writing desk stage right which is lit by a single candle, the blowing out of which is also used as a punctuation point at the end of several stories Katurian tells. 

That set opens out to reveal the Katurian's family home during the pivotal tale "The Writer and the Writer's Brother" and later the foster home the Child finds themselves in during the story "The Little Jesus". Brightly lit and colourfully appointed this acts as a counterpoint to the dingy interrogation room while also introducing an element of doubt about what is real and what is a well told fabrication. Costume & Props Designer Kiri Silva excels with an array of tools hanging from the walls that will make you squirm as you realise their terrible purpose. 

Finally there are the stories. Wonderfully written, beautifully performed. Stories worth fighting for despite their dark content. The story of "The Pillowman" itself is a moving and poignant one that reverberates throughout the play as each character embodies aspects of its message. Michal's response to being given a choice in light of all he knows will happen and the impact on Katurian is devastatingly astute. 

This is a terrific production of a superb play.  There are four more shows remaining until Saturday 2 December and is highly recommended.

The Perilous Adventures of the Postman - Hayman Theatre Company (9 December 2017)

As technology plays an ever more pervasive role in our lives, the prevalence of social media and its impact on human interaction has become a favourite topic for dramatists. This is especially the case for younger generations who are living through the explosion in apps and devices that demand more and more of their attention. How is this wiring our brains differently? How is it affecting relationships and communities and, significantly, the individual who may be better connected but as a result more isolated?

Writer/director Damon Lockwood has taken these concerns and extrapolated them out to the year 2020 where social media is the dominant form of interaction. All other institutions and social norms have decayed, most notably the status of the humble post office, the most anachronistic of services in a fully digital world.

Lockwood pushes the premise to absurd extremes as the main generator of the comedy in this near future world. Young people's heads are forever buried in their mobile devices. Eye contact is shunned as almost unnatural. Older technologies, if recognised, have taken on an aura of archaeological artefacts – the landline, the fax machine, the pre-smartphone mobile, and books. There are even workshops that encourage people to try and interact in person. They are largely unsuccessful. Mating rituals are conducted via apps and online platforms. Shopping is largely automated.

Amongst the eyes down, thumbs blazing digital morass is a beacon of the pre-digital age, now hopelessly redundant, the postman himself, played by, curiously for a student production, Curtin lecturer Philip Miolin. Regarded as a pervert (due to his predilection for actual human contact) by our gaggle of social media mad youngsters he lives on the fringes until the world faces an horrendous cataclysm too heinous to contemplate…

The online world is switched OFF in a massive failure of servers.

Much screaming ensues. In fact, in the close quarters of the Studio space at the Blue Room, a deafening amount of screaming. How can one live in a world without the internet; without social media; without the ability to cyber-stalk potential partners? Quelle horreur!

The postman is summoned by a Mad Max obsessed Postal executive who puts the General in Postmaster General, Ben Strong played with scene chewing relish by Taylor Beilby. It seems the world’s last letter is in his possession and must be delivered to a man whose life may be in danger across a now dystopian landscape of bereft youngsters.

So anachronistic is the concept of a letter even the production staff forgot that such a vessel requires a stamp (not to mention a story beat that requires a youngster to drop what looked like a $10 note, surely an abstraction for that age group now let alone in 2020) … but I digress. What follows next is a bizarre series of encounters that seem more like individual skits than a coherent narrative through line. Granted, it is a difficult task to give a cast of fifteen actors sufficient stage time but some of the characters are marginal at best. There was one long monologue from a character that came from nowhere, raved on about some implausible scenario then vanished in a burst of B-grade villainous laughter never to be seen again.

It seems the Postman is such a good chap that he can’t but help people who, coincidentally, come across his path. There is a lot of convenient plotting that felt more lazy than inspired in the general wackiness of what was going on. Ultimately the Postman reaches his destination where there is a surprise reveal which is problematic as Miolin’s age versus that of a presumptive love interest is significant.

The humour is very broad and mostly slapstick with a lot of one-note reactions to the modern versus old technologies. I found it sporadically funny with some inventive delivery of props and a crazy showdown between the Postman and his natural enemy, the pet dog.

The actors who fared best for me were Lauren Beeton as Heather who was allowed a more naturalistic reign as one of the online lovers; Beilby who delivered a full-on assault as Ben Strong; Joanna Tu who was amusingly officious as the Workshop Leader, and later as a somewhat confused Kiwi cartographer; and Bianca Roose proved a quiet presence playing a character not held in thrall by technology. Samuel Ireland had his moments as the other half of the lovers though he lapsed into the preponderance of shouting that befell a lot of characters. It certainly is not a subtle comedy. Maddy Mullins played audience favourite Workshop Girl though this was more through sympathy as the character’s earnest attempts at inclusion are constantly rebuffed.

Designer Rhiannon Walker has eschewed the usual darker tones of the Blue Room providing an all-white set including panels on which images are occasionally projected. These establish locations, for example the library or the post office though I was surprised they weren’t used for the ‘travelling montage’.

While this style of comedy wasn’t my cup of pixels, many in the audience, especially of contemporary age to the performers, seemed to be having a good time with it all.

Love and Information - Hayman Theatre Company (1 March 2016)

I was talking to Director Teresa Izzard after the play and she gave me an insight into the particular challenges in presenting celebrated playwright Caryl Churchill’s script. No character names; a cavalcade of vignettes with no settings, no stage directions, no through line; and a rough structure of seven headings where individual scenes could be slotted into any order. It sounded like a Theatre Makers Do-It-Yourself Kit. Here’s a box of pieces with no instructions for assembly, now go make something.

This, of course, gives the director, actors, and the design team a great deal of freedom in how to present and interpret this mass of information. It also makes things a little problematic from an audience perspective. You quickly come to realise that there isn’t going to be any kind of traditional narrative. I could sit here and try and draw thematic threads out of it all and certainly there are touchstones such as fidelity, memory, childhood and the like. But really, for me, this was like a collection of audition scenes or, perhaps more aptly, a Showcase on Speed.

Once I realised this I settled into enjoying the production for what it was instead of trying to analyse it to determine what it might have been. The Showcase analogy seems most appropriate and certainly this was an excellent introduction into the performance and technical capabilities of this year’s Curtin University students. Izzard keeps things rattling along as scenes follow each other in rapid succession or even overlap briefly as the actors rotate through scenarios and personas with alacrity.

For the first time that I have seen, the black box space of the Hayman Theatre Upstairs was transformed with a built in set – white flats on three sides with three doors that were used with dizzying frequency. There were also white blocks that increased in number throughout the performance until there were fully a dozen on stage. The actors added to and changed their configuration to provide the basic setting of whatever situation they found themselves in. This was enhanced by use of projected images and the title of the scene. Those titles most often than not were a single word. The lighting and sound design added the final layer with the impressive use of lasers at one point and everything from pumping dance music to static as transitions took place.

This all created a vibrant space for the actors to work in and they used it to maximum effect. Those eight actors are Lauren Beeton, Declan Brown, Eloise Carter, Chelsea Gibson, Anna Lindstedt, Holly Mason, Nelson Mondlane, and Jess Nyanda Moyle. It was a very good ensemble with each actor having to inhabit a range of vastly different characters and make them believable in very short time spans. I also appreciated the physicality involved as different combinations of actors clambered over each other and those blocks or were dancing, at times full tilt. One of the standout scenes simply called Wife involved Moyle and Brown in a ballet like sequence of intense emotion and intimacy that utilised all of the stage to stunning effect.

That, however, is where the success or otherwise of the play as a collection of fractured parts rests. Scenes work better than others to highlight the talents on display. Some are no more than brief interludes that whizz by before the next vignette begins. Like any audition piece it’s the selection of the material that goes a long way to determining the outcome. Every actor has a chance to shine and it’s very much an equal opportunity piece from that regard.

From an audience viewpoint it probably ended at about the right time as I was beginning to weary of the conceit. There was no connective tissue and no one thread or character I could hang my hat on. As a true showcase of acting and technical ability, however, it certainly set the scene nicely for what should be another strong season for Curtin’s Hayman Theatre Company.  

Love and Information is being performed at the Hayman Theatre Upstairs on the Curtin University campus until Saturday 5th March.  

In A Bony Embrace - Curtin's Performance Studies & Hayman Theatre Company (8 December 2015)

April is breaking up with Sam over breakfast because she simply doesn’t find him funny anymore. Sam doesn’t find this especially funny either as they work in the same office. An office where Harry (presumably short for Harriet) and Danny decide to spontaneously be in love. Except Harry is somewhat more intense about this development than one might expect. An office where Matt is interested in April but isn’t particularly well versed in relationships despite the example of his annoyingly in love housemates, Lila and Gavin. 

Then again, Lila and Gavin’s relationship is headed for prickly territory as a cactus called Calamity comes between them, literally and alliteratively. Meanwhile April is keen to “get back on the horse” despite the reservations of practical colleague Sylvia. Her date with Jaxon, a slick dude who isn’t exactly lacking in confidence, ends in disaster. All the while ‘Jimmy’ and ‘Sally’ pontificate about the universe, love, and death.    

If this sounds like the premise for a sitcom you would be absolutely right. These characters, some more grounded than others, intersect and collide in various ways in familiar settings – the office, the shared house, the club. It is very funny, sharply observed, with some bizarre tangents that fit the sitcom format perfectly. The set is predominantly bright pink but full of bold colours that reminded me of the Ewan McGregor, Renee Zellweger movie Down With Love, itself a homage to the ‘sex comedies’ of the 60s.

The script by Gita Bezard is excellent with several sly writer gags (always guaranteed to hook me), cracking dialogue, and interesting takes on familiar devices – a Greek Chorus that narrates actions that a character isn’t undertaking which is a refreshing change; the ten self-aware characters periodically commenting on the emotional state of their collective while jostling for attention in line; and the one actor (Jessica Nyanda Moyle) playing both parts of the Jimmy/Sally tandem while enigmatically clutching an empty glass jar. I took this variously to represent the universe at one point but also the intangible nature of their love.

The play fairly rattles along with slick direction by Adam Mitchell as he keeps the actors hovering in the wings when not featured in what really is a series vignettes that all weave together. The transitions are like cuts to a new scene as actors rotate into the next sequence effortlessly. The sitcom analogy is an apt one in construction, direction, and pacing. One of the actors even offered afterwards that he was channeling a famous sitcom character for aspects of his role.

Which brings us to the ten actors from Curtin University’s Performance Studies. With such good writing and direction their characters were all distinctively drawn and they brought them to life with impressive craft and great comic timing.

Chelsea Gibson is the confident April who dismisses Sam at the start of the play and who carries the main narrative thread. Gibson gives April a sense of self-worth and purpose even when faced with the obnoxiously ‘superior’ Jaxon, played by Sean Guastavino with cringe worthy precision that was funny and infuriating. She also has the key monologue towards the end of the play that reveals the meaning of the title and shows a tender vulnerability that was compelling.

Alexander Gerrans imbues the dumbstruck Sam with recognisable and escalating fury as he tries to comprehend his girlfriend’s decision to dump him. There is a simmering energy to his performance as the anger unfurls only to be casually batted away by April’s indifference. 

Beth Tremlett and Nathan Whitebrook move from clingy couple to something altogether more interesting as the cactus subplot spins them off into strange territory indeed. Whitebrook’s Gavin has a disturbing infatuation with Calamity that he expresses with serene contentment, genuine concern, and irrational outbursts. This only fuels Tremlett’s Britney Spears loving Lila’s incredulity and refusal to change her ways for a plant. They bounce off each other well and the whole thing spirals out of control as relationships can do over the most ridiculous of things.

Anna Lindstedt is the straight to the point Sylvia who plays the office confidant with no nonsense practicality. Daisy Coyle and Tristan McInnes make a dynamic couple in the throes of first love. Coyle allows Harry to unravel in spectacular fashion ending in a triumphantly over-the-top announcement to colleagues at the bar. McInnes deftly exhibits increasing levels of bemusement over Harry’s antics (as if to say 'she’s craaaaazy!') while still committed to the thought of Danny being in love with her. There was a restraint here that was fascinating.

Jessica Nyanda Moyle’s character is the one that sits outside the main story and whose function seemed more to serve a thematic purpose than narrative one. She manages to express both poignancy and humour while inhabiting dual roles with subtle voice and facial changes.

Then there’s Kane Parker as Matt who is the other half of the equation in the main story thread. His character is treated as a bit of a loser but Parker shows him more as someone lacking in confidence and self-esteem who is merely trying to make a connection. His work with Gibson at the end is a quiet highlight amongst the craziness.   

Love, loneliness and connection are certainly foremost in the minds of all these characters regardless of how bizarre some sequences may be; the cactus as surrogate child one of many subversions of usual expectations. The bold set design and lighting was very good in the intimate space and I very much liked the subtle sound design as well.

This was a very well written, acted, directed and presented play with plenty of laughs befitting its sitcom DNA. I have seen plays before that didn’t seem to realise they were actually a sitcom and therefore failed but In A Bony Embrace knows exactly what it is and is expertly executed. It is a late year surprise and definite highlight to cap off Curtin’s 2015.  It is on at The Blue Room until 12 December.

80 Minutes No Interval - Hayman Theatre Company (7 October 2015)

This review has been written by a meticulously constructed algorithm that was inserted into a small, innocuous looking black box. That box was gathered together with other small, black boxes and placed in a front row seat with an excellent view of the stage. The previous owner of this blog, an intermittent writer and more than occasional theatre reviewer, is now trapped in an existential flower store listening to the music of Kylie Minogue and Natalie Imbruglia whilst pondering the significance of the Mamet play Oleanna and the ideal garnish for an evening meal.

Yes, there are several levels of absurdity in writer Travis Cotton's play - a comedy about a failed novelist turned theatre reviewer who simply wants to marry Claire but is thwarted by a professional waiter, his own calamitous culinary curiosity, and the existence of the future of criticism, the aforementioned black box. It does not end well for our hero, Louis, who goes to jail for murder only to contemplate an ill-conceived dalliance in more ways than one on his release.

There is no doubt the play is funny and there are several weird and wonderful characters along the way with plenty of jabs at theatre cliches and a healthy dose of self-awareness. Yet when all is said and done I wasn't quite sure what it all signified after the laughter faded. There are constant references to David Mamet's Oleanna and I was looking for thematic connections that simply didn't appear to be there.

Ultimately the play feels more like the film Adaptation where Donald Kaufman's screenplay takes pre-eminence in the last third skewering the absurdity of the type of Hollywood film Charlie Kaufman would rail against. Yet, apart from a funny button that ends the play, I kept waiting for the grander point or idea. It never came. The mocking of cliches seemed to be the point and that felt a little hollow.

The lead character Louis, played with straight man charm by Kane Parker, bounces from one increasingly absurd situation to the next but to no great end. The opening scene where the Gallic accented waiter (Jeremy Bunny) pleads with him not to propose to Claire (Lauren Beeton) is amusing enough and sets Louis on his way. He wants to prove he can support Claire and finally get one of his manuscripts published. Some of the failed writer turned theatre reviewer observations were nicely acerbic and had me squirming!

The publisher, played with malevolent glee by Tristan McInnes, demands Louis sign on the dotted line but all ends in mock tragedy and our hero is carted off to the big house for twenty years. The jail dance sequence set to Minogue's Can't Get You Out Of My Head is a sight to see - itself seemingly a gag about "interpretive dance".

The final scene at the florist's has its own machinations, again mocking some well worn story devices that litter both film and theatre. It is well set up and paid off but again, not devastating enough a note for mine to end the play on.

Before the show started, Eleanor Davidson was playing the flute, stage right - an eclectic mix that included Summertime and Fly Me To The Moon. That she enters the action as Louis' boss is one of the devices Claire mentions in a long rant about theatre cliches. The introduction of the black box that replaces Louis spins us off into strange territory indeed but that was only the beginning of the weirdness.

Bunny has all kinds of fun as the waiter with an outrageous accent who constantly challenges Louis. Beeton plays Claire with a no nonsense practicality that would scare the hello out of any writer and Caitlin McFeat makes for an earnest florist as Mathilde.

It's the first time I've seen a revolve used at the Hayman Upstairs and there was a touch of Noises Off as we see actors cum stagehands rotate the set with a wink and nod at the audience.

It is entertaining and you will certainly laugh but it felt like it needed another layer to really elevate the material to more than a series of loosely connected, funny scenes.

Written by Travis Cotton, Directed by Philip Miolin and starring Kane Parker, Jeremy Bunny, Lauren Beeton, Eleanor Davidson, Kayla MacGillivray, Alex Gerrans, Tristan McInnes, Kharla Fannon, Ashleigh Ryan and Caitlin McFeat, 80 Minutes No Interval is exactly that and is on at the Hayman Theatre Upstairs until 10 October.

City - Curtin's Performance Studies & Hayman Theatre Company (4 August 2015)

Curtin University has been enlisting some very interesting talent to work with their students lately to create original pieces of theatre  - Jeffrey Jay Fowler (director - Escape Goat Utopia), Steve McCall (playwright - Teeth 2 Tail) and now director Joe Lui's City, devised by an ensemble including the cast, set designer and stage manager. Lui is a well-known fixture at The Blue Room and certainly brings great craft and skill to this production and there is much to like about the results.

Foremost among these is a wonderful set that is both highly stylised and extremely functional. Presented in stark white with black trim, everything from a laundromat to toilet cubicles to a train and even an adult store is inventively recreated with great economy. Highly regarded for his lighting designs which are on full display here as well, this is a visually arresting show.

The basic premise is that no one is alone (truly) in a big city and there are all kinds of hidden connections that each of us experience in a day. The cleverness of the set design is that it accentuates that thematic premise as we slide from one scenario to another with ease. The acting is good across the board and there is great use of sly humour throughout which made this very entertaining.

However, I wasn't as convinced about the story elements.

We start on a night time train where we witness the adverse reaction of a young businesswoman (Amy Tamati) to two men kissing. Things quickly get out of hand as other passengers are drawn into the altercation. This is all being narrated by the 8 year old "Ant-girl" (Rhiannon Petersen) who is looking for her mummy. Then, in a structure more reminiscent of fractured timeline narrative movies (think Fight Club for example), the action is paused and we go back to the start of the day to see how these people came to be at this place at this time and act the way they are doing.

We are introduced to a married couple (Jarryd Dobson & Daisy Coyle) whose relationship has grown stale as they argue about putting out the bins on that morning's train. There is a charismatic conman cum petty thief (Jeremy Bunny) who tries to sell items he has stolen off others; a young woman (Madeleine Mullins) whose bag he will steal leaving her stranded until her older brother (George Ashforth) arrives. That brother delivers a package (with a healthy Pulp Fiction glow when opened) to an adult store owner (Terence Smith) who is nervous about a first date he has that night with another man. There is a jilted bride still in her wedding dress (Ashleigh Ryan) and, of course, the businesswoman. They then collide in different ways ultimately leading to the events which will occur on that evening's train. All the while Ant-girl floats through proceedings as only an innocent child can whilst imparting philosophical musings on events (as an innocent child generally can't).

The use of the ant colony analogy is far too blatant and overdone and becomes a little grating after a while. The 'child looking for her mummy' device is really only there to allow for an impartial observer. Though in one of the play's more touching moments Ant-girl does have a genuine interaction with the bride who she mistakes for a princess. I say genuine because a lot of the pairings and connections often felt contrived - characters were forced together to serve the theme and plot.

Characterisations therefore felt inconsistent, for example the adult store owner who is grumpy in one scene then unexpectedly compassionate (to the wife in a showpiece scene for Coyle) in another with no real reason for being so. The petty thief also feels like a completely different character in the evening train scene(s) compared to what we have seen earlier. Even within scenes there were beats where it felt like an action change had been called for to alter the dynamic but without necessarily a logical progression to justify that change in action ie be angry now or aggressive. Some of this therefore simply didn't feel organic. That is perhaps as a result of the devising process itself.

Ultimately when we finally revisit the first scene of the play it is replayed verbatim with no additional information added - unlike a movie that uses this structure to then generally add a twist leading into a climax there is nothing new here. Other than Ant-girl's observations which have already been well established. Also, tellingly for me, not all the characters we have seen are even involved in this moment so the prior interconnections have selective intent (most notably between the husband and the thief even though it is an entertaining strand).

Having said that there are some standout performances - Bunny is an interesting mix of charm and insecurity as the thief while Ashforth plays the bloke who has tickets on himself to amusing effect. I liked Petersen's Ant-girl and she is engaging in a tricky role as 8 year old philosopher-narrator.

While I have reservations about the overall story this is entertaining, well acted, beautifully staged and has genuinely funny moments. Directed by Joe Lui and devised by Joe Lui, the cast and some crew, City stars George Ashforth, Jeremy Bunny, Daisy Coyle, Jarryd Dobson, Madeleine Mullins, Rhiannon Petersen, Ashleigh Ryan, Terence Smith and Amy Tamati and is on at the Hayman Theatre Upstairs until 8 August.

Melancholy Play: A Contemporary Farce - Hayman Theatre Company (21 April 2015)

There is a word – a Polish word I believe – that means the sadness one feels as the echo of laughter slowly fades from a recently emptied theatre. If only I could remember what that word is…

If I could then that’s how I would describe the aftermath of watching this very funny play that was wonderfully performed and staged. That and my now sudden guilty feelings about eating almonds!

Yes, this is a gloriously off-the-wall farce that spirals off into strange territory indeed as one of its characters turns into… an almond.

But let’s backtrack a little and start with Sarah Ruhl’s deliciously subversive script. Here it is melancholy and sadness - as embodied by Tilly (Zoe Street) - that is sexy and irresistible with happiness being a chaotic force that causes all kinds of disaster. Flipping the expected stereotypes around is a masterstroke that allows for the farcical and absurd but retains a key message with the almond transformation a clear metaphor. The last third of the play flirts with going way over-the-top but is grounded by an almost too obvious passage of dialogue delivered by Tilly that urges the characters to genuinely be there and support the nut afflicted Frances (Olivia Dugandzic)… even if they have to become nuts themselves. Yes, how does one truly support a friend or loved one who is enmeshed in sadness and melancholy?

Street is excellent as the bank employee Tilly. Her world weary, languid and poetic turn in the early going that marks her sadness as being so potent is terrific to watch. In turn, her therapist Lorenzo (Kane Parker); a tailor (Nathan Whitebrook); a hairdresser Frances (Dugandzic) and then Frances’ lover, the nurse Joan (Daisy Grant) all are drawn to and ultimately fall in love with her. Buoyed by such emotion that is magnified on her birthday, Tilly suddenly becomes inextricably happy causing everyone else to slip into sadness as her allure is somehow diminished. Here Street switches gears to become almost annoyingly ecstatic, playing children’s games and even riding a bike onstage at one point. It’s an eye-catching performance.

Whitebrook is the tentative tailor who kicks off proceedings by offering a defence of melancholy directly to the audience which is a technique used throughout as characters speak through hanging window frames. They also represent the portals to vistas that inspire melancholy such as wistfully gazing through a window on a rainy afternoon. His character’s descent into tear-filled and hiccupped sadness is nicely observed as is the boisterous rivalry with Lorenzo. Parker sports a very good Italian accent as the lovelorn therapist and he gives an exuberant performance that is amusingly capped off by his plaintive pleas to know if he too now is an almond. The fight scene with Whitebrook is a highlight. 

 

Dugandzic gives Frances that air of infatuation despite herself and the fact the character is already in a relationship. It is as if she is compelled to be with Tilly. I especially liked her ‘delivery’ as an ‘almond’ perched alongside the audience in her ‘letterbox’. Her ‘resurrection’ is masterfully staged. There is a late revelation regarding a dubious backstory that was perhaps one step too far for me but is well acted nevertheless. Daisy Grant’s nurse is seemingly far more practical so it’s a treat to see her play the ‘gaga’ looks and clinginess as Joan falls for Tilly’s charms as well.

The cast is rounded out by Savannah Wood, resplendent and elegant in a gown as she plays the cello to stage left. Wood played beautifully and added so much texture and tone to key moments. Of course, the cello is perhaps the instrument most suited to melancholy so it was cheeky and fun when Lorenzo asks her to play something ‘happy’ after the other characters suddenly realise she is there. This is another example of playing around with conventions with Tilly even handing her red balloon to the young boy sitting next to me.

The play fairly rockets along at just under 80 minutes and is well directed by Leah Mercer with seamless scene transitions and handoffs between characters. There is great energy throughout and, as I’ve come to expect with the Hayman Upstairs Theatre, good use of multiple entry and exit points for the actors. This is the second show I’ve seen there this year and it appears they have really taken their set designs up a notch with this and Spring Awakening. The wallpaper on the back wall; the varied rugs on the stage; the hanging frames; the centrepiece couch; Frances and Joan’s apartment space – all well-appointed and adroitly used.

Above all this is very funny even as the farce turns into something quite surreal in its last third. The performances are excellent, especially in the first half as Tilly weaves her spell. This is a really enjoyable production with only four more performances, 22-25 April at Curtin University’s Hayman Theatre Upstairs. 

Written by Sarah Ruhl, Directed by Leah Mercer, Melancholy stars Olivia Dugandzic, Daisy Grant, Kane Parker, Zoe Street, Nathan Whitebrook, and Savannah Wood.

Spring Awakening - Hayman Theatre Company (3 March 2015)

I remarked to one of the actors that I needed to “think about the play” as we were talking after the show. She replied along the lines of, “you always say that about the shows I’m in.” That may indeed be true but is testament to the sort of interesting material I've seen performed by Curtin University's Hayman Theatre Company in the last year or so.  

I found Spring Awakening, a play I was not familiar with (and distinct from the much later musical adaptation), to be quite challenging. Its language is as dense as its thematic complexity and I had not expected the two and a half hour running time (plus intermission). It demanded a lot of its audience and certainly did of its actors. For a student production it is an audacious choice and there is much to admire about the result. However, some actors fared better than others with the incredibly difficult dialogue that at times was alliteration happy and a little florid to my modern ears. It also felt overwritten and could have used some judicious editing but perhaps that is more to do with present day attention spans more than a century on from its original conception. Having said all that, a great deal of thought and skill has gone into its staging.

The story itself, in essence, centres around two 14 year olds – Wendla (Beth Tremlett) and Moritz (Alexander Gerrans) - who are totally unprepared for their sexual awakening; and the impact a more self-aware Melchior (Sean Guastavino) has on both of their lives resulting in his own demise. Rape, abortion, suicide, depression, and the recriminations and judgment of the “powers-that-be”, whether parents, teachers, or the church, marked this as controversial in its day. It still packs a wallop even now and there is an undercurrent of very black humour throughout.

I must admit it began to coalesce into something far more cohesive for me in the second half when the ramifications of the ‘sins’ in the first two acts are ‘judged’. In many ways, as I remarked to the director afterwards, A Clockwork Orange reminded me of it in that regard. That Melchior is ‘put on trial’, rightly for his treatment of Wendla and unfairly for ‘educating’ Moritz, and his defiance in the face of withering condemnation is compelling. The play takes a surreal turn at the end when he is confronted by two figures in a graveyard having escaped the reformatory he was banished to by his parents. The identity of one of these is not in doubt; the other defiantly mysterious. It is left to the audience to decide what Melchior’s fate will ultimately be.    

This is perhaps the best looking production I have seen at the Hayman Theatre Upstairs. It is beautifully lit with a clear distinction in lighting choices between the two halves as the realism of the first two acts gives way to the symbolism of the third. The stage is well presented with a ramp that the actors could clamber on, under, and through; a divan; and multitudes of paper strips depicting the winter forest very effectively. Actors also perched themselves along the side walls of the theatre to great effect. There was the appropriate use of ominous or evocative music as the scene demanded.

The costuming was excellent and I particularly liked the work of the ensemble to re-enact key events in the back stories of the principals or add texture and context. They were mostly clad in old fashioned white cotton attire that was evocative and a representation of ‘purity’.

To the performances and Tremlett inhabits Wendla with great spirit but her character is undone by a dangerous naivety fostered by her Mother (Kayla MacGillivray). The importance of knowledge, especially in regard to sexuality is a major thematic component. That Wendla is denied this knowledge makes her vulnerable and Tremlett plays this confusion well. That the ultimate arc is one of tragedy, the transformation from high-spirited innocent to being physically and emotionally crippled is well rendered. Guastavino plays Melchior with a calm resoluteness and sweet smile that belies the terrible acts his character commits especially against Wendla, the worst of which is harrowing and drew an audible exclamation from an audience member behind me. Gerrans battled gainfully with some truly difficult blocks of dialogue but admirably retained his composure though he was the least confident of the three with the language. His reappearance in the third act, however, was well done as it echoed the story Moritz had told (and discounted) earlier.

The support was very good with Jeremy Bunny impressive as Hansy; Gemma Middleton revelling in a long monologue as Ilse; Amelia Tuttleby particularly forceful as Melchior’s mother; and Savannah Wood playing varying roles as she brought what otherwise would have been straight verbal descriptions to vivid, at times, wailing life. Nathan Whitebrook gives a charismatic cameo at the end.

The acts of violence are well-handled and, as mentioned, director Teresa Izzard utilises the ensemble to give this real movement and energy as well as allowing all the actors to maximise the potential of the performance space. It is at times a difficult watch but a rewarding one as it prompts discussion and further thought which is always to be embraced. 

Spring Awakening is directed by Teresa Izzard with a translation of the original German script (Frank Wedekind) by Jonathan Franzen, and stars Jeremy Bunny, Jarryd Dobson, Alexander Gerrans, Sean Guastavino, Kayla MacGillivray, Gemma Middleton, Aaron Smith, Terence Smith, Beth Tremlett, Amelia Tuttleby, Nathan Whitebrook and Savannah Wood. The show is at the Hayman Theatre Upstairs and runs until Saturday 7 March.  

Teeth 2 Tail - Curtin's Performance Studies & Hayman Theatre Company (9 December 2014)

A story is told in the early going of this play written by Steve McCall that is delivered with such frenetic energy and charm that I was so caught up in the sheer entertainment of it all that I nearly missed that it was the key thematic blueprint for everything that was about to unfold. It was unusual insomuch as it served as an introduction to the character Harry played by Kane Parker and you normally wouldn’t expect such thematic heft in an opening salvo. Very nicely written and performed, Messrs’ McCall and Parker.

That story was a tale about the goings on at a watering hole in Kruger National Park where a herd of buffalo are surprised by a pride of lions and even a crocodile while tourists look on shocked. Remarkably, even though a ‘baby’ buffalo is snatched in all the chaos by a croc, the herd regroup and fight back…

In many ways the set is its own ‘watering hole’ where a series of characters in a strictly observed hierarchy interact and clash. Two sides fronting the audience are chain link fencing topped with barb wire; another side is the wall of the theatre with a platform where characters lurk and observe atop and under; the final side having the exits that are disguised by an arch like construction. It is wonderfully enclosed and cramped with holes in the fencing allowing characters, on occasion, to literally prowl right in front of the audience. The small performance space contains a couple of school desks, a drum, and a fridge built into a section of the arch, and adds enormously to the tone of the piece. It’s tight and grimy and you’re sitting up close and personal to the action. The actors, eleven in all, manoeuvre expertly through the set.

This story has its own animals both predatory and meek, set in a high school where Eva (Eloise Carter) is fascinated by her now deceased grandfather’s war service at Kokoda and her older brother Clint’s (Ryan Hunt) current participation in the armed forces overseas. She also wants to serve her country but is bullied by fellow students Cate (Gemma Middleton) and Sophie (Zoe Street) for being studious and, well, smart. Eva’s older sister Matilda (Violette  Ayad) is pregnant to resident drug dealer and punk ‘Turk’ (Sean Guastavino) while their mother Trish (Ashleigh Morris) likes her wine and the company of, allegedly, a series of men.

Added to this combustible mix is the school teacher Ms Carlton (Amelia Tuttleby) who tries to help Eva but is largely ineffectual in the face of particularly Cate’s defiance; the tough minded and sexually adventurous Paige (Holly Dodd); the sweet newcomer Lucy (Amy Johnston) who attempts to befriend Eva; and finally the naïve Harry (Parker) who will become an unwitting accomplice as Eva ‘regroups and fights back’ with tragic consequences.

In many ways this reminded me of the play Punk Rock but with a totally recognisable Australian voice. Yes, things escalate out of control and Eva proves to be an increasingly fierce adversary as she stands up to those who wrong her. Eloise Carter gives a tremendous performance as she moves from passive nerd to a far more calculating and ruthless presence. I almost passed straight by her after the show not recognising who she was and Carter admitted, tellingly, that she looked far less ‘psychotic’.

There are inserts throughout the play where Eva seemingly re-enacts with the cast events from her grandfather’s time at war with the Japanese. These seemed to me though, to be signposts of a sense of, perhaps not delusion, but certainly a lack of understanding of what war truly is. A point hammered home when her brother Clint returns from overseas and tells her a story about what warfare in places in Afghanistan is really like. That he is suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome is a lovely juxtaposition to his sister’s state of mind as they both deal with the ramifications of her actions.

Excellent performances abound and there is a richness to each character in both how they are drawn and presented. Guastavino is a wonderfully physical and menacing presence as Turk and his callous treatment of Eva’s sister is in many ways the catalyst for the escalation in events that spiral out of control. Parker’s Harry is thoroughly sympathetic as he is drawn into something out of his ability to comprehend. Middleton proves to be a fiery antagonist but even her Cate is ranked below Dodd’s Paige who is perhaps the “alpha female” to Turk’s alpha male. Dodd ratchets up the wattage as she confronts Eva head on over Turk. 

Johnston’s turn as Lucy adds an element of genuine warmth and sweetness and her later scenes with Carter are particularly well handled. I also really liked Morris’ performance as the almost absent mother who really has no idea of what her youngest daughter is capable of. Hunt’s involvement as the brother whose return will make everything right is telling and he gives a sober rendering of a man with competing duties to family and country. Guilt is also rife throughout and how different characters deal with this is critical.

This is a thought provoking and thematically dense play with excellent writing and wonderful performances by all the cast. Mark Storen’s direction within the deliberately cribbed space is very good as characters rotate into their scenes then return to what felt at times to be silent observers in the background, like watchful eyes around a watering hole as the animals slowly tear each other apart...

Teeth 2 Tail has three more shows on at The Blue Room, finishing on Saturday 13 December and is highly recommended.

Crave - Hayman Theatre Company (26 October 2014)

Four actors, four wooden chairs, one black box theatre. Two actors in white, the other pair in black. Male, female, black, white. Nameless, elusive, damaged. Short, precise lines picked up and carried by each actor as if thoughts tumbling in the breeze. Terrible words, terrible deeds, terrible legacy. Abrupt outbursts, anger, longing, obsession. Moments of eloquence, dense passages of intense monologue. Hurt. Futility. Abuse. Rape. Murder?

Confusion, annoyance, concentration. It’s Sunday night and I’m struggling. The fractured nature of the delivery and of the stylised writing forces me to pay attention. It is elliptical and obtuse. Initially it surprises me. Then it annoys me. Then slowly, awkwardly, its rhythms and darkness fascinate me. What is it all about? What does it mean? Why do I care? How should I respond? I feel emotionally distant as if watching an ugly transgression through Perspex. Is it even real?

Ultimately, did I like Sarah Kane’s writing? No. It was deliberately ambiguous, a verbal manifestation of that blurred object that refuses to fall into focus in the extreme of your peripheral vision. Far too much like hard work on a Sunday night. On any night.

What elevates the production is the fine work of all four actors who are very good with the exacting dialogue that requires precise timing; and the direction of Savannah Wood who keeps them in motion and interacting in striking pairings. Those actors are white-clad Caleb Robinson-Cook who gives a bravura extended monologue that was an emotional assault of rapid fire words that I later learnt took the better part of 12 weeks to nail in rehearsal. I can believe it. His black-clad male counterpart is Ryan Hunt who predominantly interacts with Annika-Jane Shugrue, also in black, while Emma Smith gravitates more to Robinson-Cook.  

All of them exhibit a range of emotions as they verbally joust over the most horrible of topics. This is full on and not for the fainthearted.  A couple of choice blood-curdling screams act as both punctuation points and a sonic slap in the face to make sure the audience’s attention doesn’t waver. The chairs are used as props throughout and there is a real physical nature to the performance that adds to the verbal conundrums. This is essential as a static presentation would have lost me in the more portentous meanderings of the writing.

At the end I could not help but admire the skill and precision that was used to bring a very difficult piece to life.

But what did it all mean?

My immediate reaction was that the black and white characters were different representations of a man and woman who were in a dysfunctional relationship with an exploration of the reasons for that dysfunction and its consequences. There were lines about generations passing on events and knowledge so I initially thought each embodied a family history of sorts. Talking to one of the actors afterwards he suggested they had tackled it as four separate characters, one pairing being the parents of the troubled couple. I had taken references to 'mother' as being more metaphorical but that’s the elusive nature of the play. Any interpretation might be valid with the non-specific stage directions in the script and the lack of clarity of who is talking to whom.

So I looked online for previous reviews from different productions and pretty much none of them offered a theory other than to list themes, general observations and exhibit a fascination with T.S. Eliot. At least I wasn’t the only one who found it hard work!

I can’t say I 'enjoyed' the play but it certainly was a fascinating if dark experience that was well performed and directed.

Crave was written by Sarah Kane, Directed by Savannah Wood and starred Caleb Robinson-Cook, Ryan Hunt, Emma Smith and Annika-Jane Shugrue. 

Escape Goat Utopia - Hayman Theatre Company (8 October 2014)

Nathan drops his last box of possessions as tears overcome him and he slowly slides down the wall, stage right until finally he curls up in the foetal position. An audience member, Nathan’s mother, can’t stand the pain of her son sobbing any longer and rushes onstage from her front row seat to comfort him. As her arms enfold him he looks up in anguish. ‘Mum, bugger off, you’re embarrassing me!” The Reviewer, also in the front row, thinks this suggestion is a wonderful idea as he talks to Nathan and his mother after the show and insists it must somehow be included… and so this paragraph came to pass…

None of this happened in the actual play, of course, but if it had the intrusion would have fit in perfectly to the absurdist, self-aware, meta-construct that was on display. A self-devised piece with the assistance of Jeffrey Jay Fowler, it is partly a commentary on the process of creating theatre; an existential rumination on the age old questions of who am I and what is my purpose; and for me, largely a showcase for the diverse talents of the cast. Then there are the goats.

Amusingly, in the best set piece – a lovely film noir parody replete with purple prose narration and femme fatale splendour that spins off into an all too clever discourse on theatre acting – a trap is set for the casual fan or critic. Beth (Tremlett) decries the person who tells her after a show that she was great, looked fabulous, and was clearly having fun as a shorthand way to avoid saying she is a bad actor. There is another layer of self-awareness here as the two-hander with Nathan (Whitebrook) clearly knows how good they both are as actors. While Beth was, as I’ve come to expect, excellent; did indeed look fabulous; and was having a good time with that particular iteration of her character, I dare not type that lest I… damn!

Embracing that conceit though, I can’t genuinely say I understood what the play was about or ultimately what it was trying to tell me. The theatre in-jokes were funny and well played but the existential crisis/debate was less interesting to me as it never really took a position. Throughout there is the recurring line, “this isn’t who you really are”; a notion that a Deep Thought like computer could conceive a moral code that could lead to world peace; and, in the long ensemble set piece at the end, further exploration about what would make the characters happy. The solution, in fitting with the tone of the piece, was absurdist and too obtuse for mine. Then there are those damn goats that were symbolically gnawing at the fabric of the universe. We’ll come back to them later, one in particular.

The structure is largely comprised of two-handers and initially felt like a series of skits after the first iteration of the more serious breakup scene between Nathan and Beth (yes, the characters use their actor’s first name). There was the death scene where one soldier (Monty Sallur) only wants to be told he is loved and beautiful by his reticent comrade (Jack Middleton) which was amusing, for some reason reminded me of Hair, but tended to be overlong as a sketch; two old schoolmates (Rhiannon Petersen and Rebecca Maynard) who have taken completely different paths in life have an awkward chance meeting at a supermarket; and an enthusiastic boss (played with gusto by Ariel Tresham) shows a new employee (Savannah Wood) the factory that makes toy goats. These pairings are revisited in seemingly alternative universes and it all folds in on itself and becomes self-referential until the end scene where all the actors assemble and intone in unison existential angst.

I loved the energy on display and there are genuinely funny parts such as when Jack storms off stage shouting ‘amateurs’ as the next iteration of the dying soldier scene is interrupted then debated by the ‘director’ (Ariel) and actors. My immediate response after the play finished was to say I was “processing” what I’d just seen… and that is a good thing though perhaps an ever elusive exercise. 

The set was simple with a silver curtain along the rear of the stage with turf covering the stage floor and side walls. There was good use of lighting and sound effects throughout to immerse us in this fantastical world. The acting styles also varied depending on the demands of any individual scene and there were moments of genuine drama between the absurdity and comedy. But what did it all mean…?  

Directed and written by Jeffrey Jay Fowler (based on a devising process), Escape Goat Utopia stars Ariel Tresham, Beth Tremlett, Rebecca Maynard, Jack Middleton, Monty Sallur, Nathan Whitebrook, Rhiannon Petersen and Savannah Wood and is on at the Hayman Theatre Upstairs until 11 October.  

Part 2

The Reviewer drops his programme as tears of frustration overcome him and he slowly slumps into his seat in the front row until finally he curls up in a semi-foetal position. A surprise cast member, Roxie Hart, can’t stand the pain of this critic sobbing any longer and rushes across stage from behind the silver curtain to comfort him. As her arms enfold him he looks up in anguish. “Roxie, bugger off, I’m processing here!” The actors, gathered on stage, think this notion is a wonderful development as they chat to The Reviewer after the show and insist it must somehow be included… and so this paragraph came to pass…

Okay, there appear to be clues throughout the play and here’s a theory *deep breath*…

The play is anchored by the breakdown in the relationship between Nathan and a pregnant Beth. It seems Nathan’s wayward tendencies – unfaithfulness, drugs and his pet goat – have caused an irrevocable split even though he pleads his case. The line, “this is not who you really are” that Nathan throws at Beth echoes throughout this and other scenes except for one notable exception when Beth later tells him this IS who you really are. Savannah also plays a pregnant character and ‘steals’ Beth’s showpiece monologue (which is beautifully delivered) - a surrogate version in his imagination?

Characters emerge from behind a shimmering silver curtain as if being summoned and disappear back into that glittery void. I would have to see it again but I don't recall Nathan breaking that 'barrier'. The philosophical discussions about moral codes and world peace possibly disguise his need for emotional stability. The play ends with a traumatised Nathan who has been moving out throughout the story collapsing into tears. 

I have a sneaking suspicion that the two-handers are wonderful perversions of his emotional trauma – the ‘dying’ character who needs to be told he is loved; a weird reinterpretation of how he met Beth (the “cute-meet”) now seen as two completely different (incompatible) people in the supermarket; his enthusiasm for the pet goat and Beth’s dismay morphed into the factory scene (where Nathan lurks in the background transfixed by a toy goat).

Then there is the fantastical film noir scene that comes immediately after the first set of pairings and puts the focus firmly back on Nathan and Beth. The ensemble sequence with all the characters speaking in unison would appear to be a giant echo chamber of his doubts and fears. Is Nathan like Roxie Hart in the movie version of Chicago taking real events - the breakup and its aftermath - and projecting them into fantasy? An escape indeed. 

Of course, there’s always the possibility that I am the goat…

Sunday Night Theatre - Hayman Theatre Company (14 September 2014)

One of the pleasant discoveries of my theatre going year has been the regular staging of a tandem of one act plays at the Hayman Theatre Upstairs on the Curtin University campus. This gives the students an opportunity to produce a mix of theatre from well-known plays like one of tonight’s offerings to self-devised pieces to, occasionally, originally written work. The students also rotate directing, acting, and off-stage duties to give them a full appreciation of every department.

This Sunday’s programme definitely had laughs on its mind with the cleverly written comedy of errors, Albert, and the always entertaining The Real Inspector Hound by one of my favourite writers, the great Tom Stoppard.

Albert

A Finnish au pair, an Italian soccer fan, and an amorous Englishman walk onto a stage…The set up for a gag? Sure. But it’s a pretty good one as this production plays with miscommunication, stereotypes and ‘bloody foreigners’ to amusing effect.

Karin (Michelle Endersbee) is looking after a baby in an English household where the parents have left for the evening to go to the cinema… or bicycle riding depending on your language of choice. She is interrupted by Nico (Jeremy Bunny) who is there to visit his sister, the mother of said newborn. They in turn are interrupted by Albert (Caleb Robinson-Cook), eager to declare his love for the previous au pair who has only recently left. None of them speak or understand each other’s language so miscomprehension escalates amusingly as identities and agendas are hilariously misconstrued.
  

Endersbee plays it straight as the new nanny increasingly bewildered by events. Her Finnish accent never strays into caricature and she grounds proceedings with an air of Scandinavian innocence. Bunny is very good as the charismatic Italian who becomes increasingly frustrated with his inability to communicate with the other two… and the perplexing issue of the lavatory which (he thinks) he’s been told is the well-worn armchair. Yes, it’s that kind of humour. Robinson-Cook gives a knee-slapping, earnest portrayal which spirals out of control as he eventually comes to believe he is the father of the baby. 

Directed by Ariel Tresham and Written by Richard Harris, this had good timing and was very amusing. It was a perfect companion piece for Hound which also features misunderstandings and mistaken identities galore…

The Real Inspector Hound

Nobody panic but theatre critics are murdered in this production. I mean, in the play, not in the audience… though… 

No, let’s not entertain that thoug—would someone answer that damn phone?!

The stage is set in an upstairs theatre cut off from the ground floor by a winding staircase surrounded by, um, marshes and, oh yes, a cliff. The chances of front of house staff arriving in time to thwart a madman are slim to none. I eyeball my fellow audience members cautiously.

Of course, Stoppard is having enormous fun taking the piss out of Agatha Christie style murder mysteries with their contrived, inaccessible settings and abundance of exposition. The great conceit is that two theatre critics are commenting in the wings and eventually get drawn into the drama on stage as the dead body (played with commendable stillness by Charlie Darlington) is finally revealed to be…

The first of those two critics is Birdboot (Monty Sallur) who fancies himself a ladies man and maker of (female) stars. His fellow critic is second stringer Moon sitting in for head critic Higgs who is indisposed for the night. In a slight departure from the norm, Moon here is played by a woman, Felicity Meath. On stage, in the rooms of Muldoon Manor, newcomer Simon Gascoyne (Kane Parker) arrives causing much consternation for the lady of the house, the widow Cynthia Muldoon (Emily Matthews), her guests Felicity Cunningham (Ashleigh Morris) and Major Magnus Muldoon (Tristan McInnes), and the ever present maid, Mrs Drudge (Annika-Jane).

The radio announces that a madman has escaped and Inspector Hound (Jack Middleton) soon arrives to assist. Birdboot and Moon will ultimately take centre stage as the whole thing folds in on itself with devilish glee. Who indeed is the real Inspector Hound? Who is the killer? Who is the dead body? Why are fiends murdering theatre critics? We actually are nice people… no, really!

The cast tackled this with a real exuberance that mostly works though sometimes chunks of trademark witty Stoppard dialogue were delivered at breakneck speed. A breath and a touch more measured pace would have been better suited to let the words weave their magic. They are all solid with Middleton a quirky Hound, McInnes a cartoonish Major, and Matthews a glamorous Lady Muldoon. It’s Meath and Sallur though who get to play the showpiece roles and they do well with the only reservation being the overly rapid dialogue at times. It’s a fun production and always entertaining to witness the reaction of newcomers to the play as the absurd yet clever revelations mount. 

Directed by George Ashforth and Written by Tom Stoppard, The Real Inspector Hound received enthusiastic applause and ended a fun night out at Curtin.

Bremen Coffee - Hayman Theatre Company (17 August 2014)

The power of good theatre - indeed any good storytelling - is to transport us to a different time and place often to explore themes that at first may seem foreign but resonate in some way with a modern audience. That is certainly the case with this play which plunges us into a misogynistic world set in 1960s American suburbia where woman appear to only exist to serve and please men. The opening scene is a shocking and brutal reinforcement of this. It had me squirming with discomfort. That the hero of the story is a woman who craves freedom – of thought and deed – in this male dominated world is to be applauded. That she does so by murdering everyone who belittles and humiliates her by serving them poisoned coffee is subversive, confronting, and occasionally a source of deeply black comedy.

   

That woman is Gish played superbly by Beth Tremlett in an eye-catching performance. The range she displays is impressive and the arc from meek housewife to conniving murderess to a confident woman at the height of her powers at the end of the play (albeit with a wreckage of dead characters behind her) is outstanding.

The play opens on a domestic scene between husband and wife. I apologise as I was unfamiliar with most of the other actors and there was no programme to assist with who was playing what character. Let me say though, the young actor playing Gish’s first husband, John, had the unenviable task of being, let’s face it, a complete bastard. He does this well… very well in fact which was the source of my discomfort. Not only does he belittle and manhandle Gish, he forces her to perform a sexual act that is well staged (suggested not seen) but shocking in its perfunctory nature. This is after two of his friends, Michael and Zimmerman (who will come to feature in Gish’s life) have stopped by for a drink as men do.

Gish responds by serving John the poisoned coffee which leads to his painful demise. The subtlety Tremlett shows here with the barest hint of a smile as she watches her husband struggle is terrific.

The one male constant in Gish’s life is her overbearing father who immediately makes plans to have a man take over John’s business because, obviously, as a woman Gish couldn’t possibly do so. This ends up being Michael who Gish falls madly in love with and who moves in with her. Except her Mother (by process of elimination I’m thinking played by Eleanor Davidson), a good Christian woman, harangues her daughter for living in sin. Well, that’s the end of her as Gish serves up another deadly brew.

Michael, who can’t stand the sound of Gish’s two children at play - and more crucially the fact that they are John’s - refuses to marry her. On learning this, in a truly shocking beat, Tremlett’s glance towards the door behind which the children laugh seals their fate. As she takes the poison to their room there were audible gasps from the audience. It is a truly awful and tragic highlight and shows the depths to which the need for a man has permeated her psyche that Gish would sacrifice her children. That Michael continues to refuse marriage wanting to keep his options open spells the end for him - another coffee, another fatality. But not before she calls a priest to marry them just before he dies. This was an overtly funny scene that gave the audience a chance to genuinely laugh instead of the nervous “did he really just say that?” titters of discomfort throughout. The values on display were so utterly anathema to today’s society, leastways spoken out loud so brazenly.

And so the roster of coffee inspired deaths mount – her father who still insists she can’t run the business. Zimmerman who becomes another lover but yet again proves to be the same as any other man in her world. Gish’s brother newly returned from what appeared to be military service who wants to wrest control of the business from her, and even her female friend (Zoe Barham) for, well, gladly accepting her role as a plaything for her own husband.

In the end, Gish sits alone in front of the television, free at last… but at what cost?

I really liked this though I did have qualms. Every single man without exception is a bastard. Okay, maybe the priest might prove okay but don’t drink the coffee Father just in case. The play presents a very particular viewpoint but with no redeeming features in any of the men it tends to undercut any potential dilemma for Gish in the eyes of the audience. They all deserve it so they all get it. Case closed. The staging was very effective with a good set depicting the suburban household but the use of a pop soundtrack particularly early tended to dilute the drama. The tone was interesting because the start is so in your face that it’s only later I started to sense that there was a sporadic, deeply black, comedic heartbeat.

The performances - with American accents - were good but this is clearly a showcase for Tremlett’s talents as she’s hardly ever off stage and proves to be the standout. On the evidence of this performance and at only 18 she has a very bright future.

Written by Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Directed by Michelle Endersbee and starring Beth Tremlett, Zoe Barham, Eleanor Davidson, Aaron Smith, Jamie Turner, Jeremy Bunny and Kane Parker, Bremen Coffee is on next Sunday night, 24 August, at the Hayman Theatre Upstairs at Curtin University. 

Gifts - Hayman Theatre Company (17 August 2014)

It seems that God has been on the mind of university drama students this week. Hot on the heels of Back to Eden out at Murdoch comes Gifts, the first production of tonight’s Sunday Night Theatre offering at Curtin University.

I apologise in advance for the generic mention of performers as there was no programme with actor names assigned to roles.

However, here God is ‘the beginning’ and portrayed in lively fashion as a glam rock ‘n’ roll star who has grown bored of his own existence. What is one to do but to create a new plaything, give it a head, two arms, two legs, eyes, the power of speech and, in perhaps an error he will come to rue, a brain. I give you Man.

Man immediately demands freedom (and the ability to dance) quickly followed by a Wife. God decides that the Wife shall bear Man’s children, a decision she isn’t exactly wild about but, God being God, he gets his way. A child soon arrives with three more to follow in quick succession with thumb-sucking intensity. They too will eventually demand their freedom as unruly teenagers rebelling against their parents. God introduces happiness to quell the unrest.

What I like about a lot of Curtin productions is that they contain a range of performance styles – dance, movement and song are integral parts of this play. There is the use of classic pop tunes – David Bowie’s Life on Mars as God creates Man, and the play ends with The Beatles’ Golden Slumbers. A highlight, however, is the live performance of Queen’s We Will Rock You as the four performers playing (by now) disaffected teenagers harangue the Man and Wife while a bemused God looks on (and provides the iconic beat).

There is also a lovely use of a simple white sheet with a slit down the middle where, in order, Man’s, above him Wife’s, then God’s head only appear as they debate what has been wrought. It was nicely done. The costume and hairstyle for God would have made Marc Bolan proud.  

This was a short, tongue in cheek production that was amusing and energetic. Directed by Emelia Peet and written by Joanna Hempel, it starred Kharla Fannon, Tristan McInnes, Chris McIntosh, Keliesha O’Breza, Kane Parker, Ashleigh Ryan, and Aaron Smith.

Ruben Guthrie - Hayman Theatre Company (6 August 2014)

What is the true nature of addiction? What is its source? Genetic? Peer pressure? Lack of willpower? A crutch for doubts and fears? A feeling of invincibility? All of these things? None of them? Can we truly overcome addiction or do the answers to the above questions ultimately determine who we are and what our fate is no matter how valiantly we struggle against our demons?

This is the dark territory Ruben Guthrie tackles, specifically alcohol abuse. It doesn’t pull any punches as it points a white-hot spotlight at the title character and examines his flaws, warts and all. It would be easy to call this a cautionary tale but this is not didactic, it doesn’t preach, and there are no easy answers. The play is more observational and a true character study. In many ways the play is as flawed as Ruben himself but ultimately it is a powerful piece that will linger, its closing moments quite haunting.

So who is Ruben Guthrie (wonderfully played by Nathan Whitebrook)? In a boisterous opening we discover he is a high flying ad executive who has been lauded for the fourth year in a row for yet another brilliant commercial. As a result he goes on a legendary bender which ends up with him diving off a rooftop into a shallow wading pool and breaking his arm. His model girlfriend, Zoya (Amy Johnston) is none too impressed and returns to Prague leaving Ruben alone in an apartment decorated by booze. He sets out to tackle his addiction to the bottle but is challenged every step of the way. Ray (Jarryd Dobson), an executive from Ruben’s advertising agency, alarmed at his decline in creativity as he goes dry, urges remedial action via Vodka. Ruben’s father, Peter (George Ashford), an alcoholic himself, is none too impressed as he admonishes his son; and a friend newly arrived from overseas with a bagful of duty free alcohol, Damian (Sean Guastavino), isn’t helping matters. Yet Ruben perseveres finding a sponsor in Virginia (Roisin Bevan) who he eventually becomes engaged to. Things are going well until events - and his Mum (Eleanor Davidson) - conspire to plummet him back into old habits with calamitous results.

In many ways this tale reminded me of Denzel Washington’s alcoholic pilot in the movie Flight. The character is who he is and despite all his best efforts cannot change that. The fact that Ruben does so well in resisting all the temptations and judgments put before him in the middle section of the play makes the last third tragic, heartbreaking and, at times, difficult to watch. In the best possible way.

Whitebrook is excellent in the title role – charismatic, boisterous, blokey, needy, at times remorseful, fearful, exuberant, vulnerable – he plays the part with great energy and physicality. I must admit I think he did his best work in the quieter moments – the story of his high school friend and protector Corey, a particular highlight; but also as he wonders out aloud whether his condition is hereditary; and when he discovers the consequences of his Dad’s own addiction. Then there is his decision – a brief flicker of faint hope in the face of tragedy - in the very closing moments where he is beaten down and dejected that really will linger with you. The sequence where he falls off the wagon is heartbreaking because, as unlikable as he is at times, we do care and empathise with his plight.

Johnston convincingly plays the leggy young model who grew tired of his antics and her character really is the catalyst both for Ruben’s sobriety and eventual lapse. Dobson adds real humour as the smarmy ad exec with his love of classic Australian advertising jingles and exhortations to Ruben’s vanity and pride. Bevan is initially a much grounded foil for Ruben’s affections but a late character change that nudges her into ‘crazy’ territory, while well conveyed, seemed more plot mechanics than organic.

Guastavino plays the gay friend with a balance between comic sensibility and Ruben’s ‘darker angel’ without teetering into caricature. I was obviously sitting next to friends of his who found the more homo-erotic sections worthy of tittering like schoolgirls over (it’s called acting, lads) which was unfortunate however Guastavino and Whitebrook handle those moments well. Davidson has a tricky role as it’s clearly a much older character but I also found the mother’s motivations and actions difficult to understand, especially a late scene where she attempts to cajole her son into drinking. Finally, Ashforth gives a nice turn as the Dad even though there were times I also questioned his treatment of Ruben. But maybe that’s the point – perhaps it’s the ones who love us most who are the worst enablers?

Ashforth is also notable because, yes, there was The Ruben Guthrie Band, a five piece outfit playing in the wings of which he was a guitarist and singer. The other band members were Eloise Carter, Keith Ong, Jack Middleton and Jordan Norrish. They sang the aforementioned jingles but also classic pop and rock songs (Faith, Toy Soldiers, Summer of 69, Eternal Flame) that added vibrancy to proceedings. The set was awash with neon signs and a whole back wall of alcohol with a well-worn lounge chair the centrepiece.

Not everything worked for me – the play settled down after the (perhaps overly?) exuberant opening and it was the Corey tale when Ruben recalls why he first started drinking that was the actual hook to engage me. The play felt a little long and with no intermission was a solid two hours. The mother, as mentioned, was a problematic character especially given the revelations about the family history. Zoya’s return coincided too clinically with Virginia’s character turn, itself a little arbitrary, to be anything other than plot driven. There were also times when the writing felt too clever – some of the language (“discombobulated”) seemed out of character; there were sly writer’s gags including Zoya telling Ruben to talk in subtext if he was going to be a novelist that came from nowhere; and other 'knowing' reactions off (mis)interpretations of words. All that said though, this is a very strong character study with no easy outs that will make you squirm and make you think. For that it is to be applauded.  

Written by Brendan Cowell, Directed by Mark Storen and starring Nathan Whitebrook, Amy Johnston, Roisin Bevan, Sean Guastavino, George Ashforth, Eleanor Davidson and Jarryd Dobson, featuring The Ruben Guthrie Band of Eloise Carter, Keith Ong, George Ashforth, Jack Middleton and Jordan Norrish, the play has three more performances this Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights, 7pm at the Hayman Theatre Upstairs.