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'! 

The Normal Heart - GRADS (2 November 2023)

For me, one of the most magical occurrences in a theatre is when an audience goes completely silent as if holding its collective breath while watching a moment onstage. It's as if we dare not interrupt the alchemy unfolding before us. It feels primal and, in some miraculous way, time stops for the briefest instance. Such a moment happened during a monologue in the 2nd act of playwright Larry Kramer's damning indictment of the response to the burgeoning AIDS crisis in early 80s New York. 

Phil Bedworth's character, Bruce Niles, recounts the events leading up to his partner's death and its immediate aftermath. It is shocking, heartbreaking, and feels utterly authentic in its specific details. Bedworth conveys the desperation and disbelief of losing a loved one under these circumstances with an empathy that is stunning. It is an emotional highpoint of the production. 

This is where the play is at its most effective, detailing the human cost of a disease that was, at the time, ignored by the media, shunned by politicians, and barely grasped by the medical profession. The character of Ned Weeks (Zane Alexander) is based on Kramer himself who became a gay activist in response to an increasing number of his friends becoming sick and subsequently dying. He was instrumental in forming a crisis organisation and notably railed against New York mayor Ed Koch for not doing enough to fund an effective response. Kramer proved to be so confrontational that he was eventually ousted from the organisation he helped create. He did, however, raise awareness of a health crisis that would become a worldwide epidemic.

Given this, the writing roils with outrage and condemnation. Characters deliver tirades of facts and figures. There is a lot of finger pointing, both literal and figuratively, as arguments rage over the lifestyle of gay men; their right to sexual freedom; comparisons to the fate of the Jews in World War 2; the nature of love; and who is to blame. There are even announcements of the number of cases reported by the CDC that increase as the months go by. Ned mentions a few times the forty men he knows who are sick. At first it all felt a little too abstract and intellectual for mine. I wanted to see the people behind the numbers. The highlight of the first act, therefore, was the argument between Ned and his brother Ben Weeks (Dean McAskil) whose reluctance to support Ned is viewed as a betrayal and sign that Ben considers him 'sick'. 

While the first act is still powerful and disquieting the play opened up for me in the second half when the personal toll is more fully explored. That relationship between brothers is fleshed out; Ned's own partner Felix (Steven Hounsome) becomes ill; the clash between Ned and the more diplomatic president of the crisis organisation, Bruce Niles, escalates; friendships within the group are tested; and ultimately Ned has to face his own mortality reflected in his lover's fate. 

Director Barry Park has assembled a fine cast and wisely stages the production in a black box space with minimal set or props so that the focus is squarely on the performances. He is assisted, however, in no small measure by an excellent original score by Myles Wright that accentuates moments of high emotion with great subtlety. 

Accomplished performer Zane Alexander is rarely off stage as Ned Weeks who is deliberately written to be obnoxious. Alexander rises to the occasion in an outburst at mealy-mouthed government official Hiram Keebler (Phillip Steele-Young) where Ned simply can't contain his anger. There is the similar outburst directed at his brother but it's in the deepening crisis of Ned's own relationship where Alexander really shines. Kramer and Park put him through the ringer as the so-called firebrand struggles to deal with Felix's condition. It's a very physical performance with lots of big gestures and hand motions that, given how precise a director Park is, can only have been a deliberate choice. The actor had to gather himself before his final bows after reaching a crescendo of anguish and unconditional love in the closing scene. 

Steven Hounsome plays an excellent foil with his Felix being straight forward and practical compared to the histrionics of Ned. He too navigates a fraught emotional arc with great skill. Phil Bedworth delivers that devastating monologue and projects decency as a man committed to the cause but at odds with Ned in how it should be prosecuted. 

Anna Head impresses in a tricky role as Dr. Emma Brookner. Not only confined to a wheelchair, most of her dialogue feels like a diatribe designed to convey facts and figures as the 'medical representative'. However, Head imbues Brookner with a genuine sense of compassion as she fights what seems a losing battle. This is epitomised in another outburst that builds in rage until it explodes in a flurry of papers as the doctor's request for funding is denied.  

Dean McAskil makes for a compelling visual counterpoint to Alexander - he towers over the more slightly built man which is symbolic of the brothers' relationship in many ways. The lawyer, at first, seems more preoccupied with material wealth in the form of a new house than his brother's activism but there is another moment of compassion when Felix visits him to engage his services. McAskil doesn't oversell the complicated relationship with Ned which leads to a satisfying arc.

Adam Poole has a standout moment as Mickey Marcus as he launches into a monologue that verges on hysterical but given the context was earned and a jolt of theatrical adrenaline. He tackles it with a full on intensity that was even more notable given it's quite a long speech. Jordan Holloway adds a sly sense of humour (and yes, there is a certain wry humour throughout) as Tommy Boatwright which is a welcome departure from most of the more earnest characters. 

This is a much lauded script tackling an important issue that resonates to this day with the Covid-19 pandemic an immediate comparison. I could sense the playwright's vitriol and that often bursts into life but every now and then this production felt somewhat too polite and measured. If ever there was a character and an issue that invites a full-blown assault it is Ned Weeks and the egregious handling of the AIDS crisis. Having said that, this is a talented cast and consummate director bringing to life a complex script and that is to be applauded.  

The Normal Heart is on at The Actor's Hub in East Perth until 18 November 2023.