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 York Realist - Garrick Theatre (23 July 2023)

I admit that at the start of the matinee production of The York Realist I wasn't listening properly. This wasn't helped by the unfortunate late arrival of two patrons who eventually found their seats, noisily. After they finally settled I concentrated on the scene before me to slowly come to the realisation that it wasn't what was being said but rather everything that wasn't. The first half of the play in particular, written by Peter Gill, is a masterclass in subtext. The surface level dialogue certainly establishes a strong sense of time and place and the characters who populate this tale but there's so much more simmering away underneath. 

That time and place is the early 1960s in a cottage in York where a "love that dare not speak its name" grows in tentative fashion between country farm labourer George (Alex Comstock) and London assistant theatre director John (Sean Wcislo). Both men are drawn to each other but due to circumstance and the vastly different worlds from which they come their longing is fraught with complication. None more so than the fact that such a consummated love was still illegal in Britain. 

There's another strand that is subtly communicated whereby George's mother (Lis Hoffmann) is in poor health which anchors George to the family home despite his desires. Then there's George's sister Barbara (Louise Plant), Barbara's husband Arthur (Phil Bedworth), George's nephew Jack (Keaton Humphreys), and family friend Doreen (Roxanne O'Connor) all of whose interactions give an authentic sense of family and community. These are decent, hardworking people who go to chapel, work the land, and look out for each other.  

Once I understood the play's framework I began to see what was happening rather than trying to glean meaning from the 'domestic' conversations taking place. In this director Barry Park excels with an elaborate choreography between Comstock and Wcislo as their characters come to terms with such intense feelings. 

I was fascinated in the space between them onstage, how that changed, who was moving forward, who was retreating, who was initiating contact, who was declining or accepting it. There was also the clearly delineated persona of each character - Comstock makes his George far more animated in a very likeable performance. We feel George's sense of frustration, of duty, of longing to break away from the strictures of his lot in life. 

Wcislo, by comparison, is mostly still, very upright, with his arms straight down his sides, hands palm down. It's as if his John is literally in an emotional straight jacket. Their work together is very good indeed. Helped by another layer - the oft mentioned play within the play that is John's excuse to be there and George's excuse to initially hide. George is, in fact, a good actor; a man pretending to be someone else. The relevance is not lost on the audience. 

There is a significant tonal shift after intermission with the opening scene playing in almost sitcom fashion as the family discuss John and George's play. It's genuinely funny, especially Hoffmann's Mother expressing disbelief that her son George could be so nasty. We have another time jump and again everything is so beautifully revealed instead of any direct exposition in the writing and the performance of such. It's here where the other cast members really shine - Bedworth has an affecting moment as his Arthur refuses to go have a pint with George. This comes shortly after a surprise revelation that skitters off into the ether with hardly a ripple other than to set the possible context for Arthur's response.

Plant's Barbara comes to the fore as brother and sister bicker, their love and concern for each other clear but strained. There is an emotional truth that resonates in these moments of heightened sibling drama. O'Connor imbues her character with a gentle comic streak as Doreen remains largely oblivious to what's really going on. Humphreys, remarkably only 15, is a likeable Jack. His projection wasn't as good as the vastly more experienced actors around him but given his age it's a minor quibble. Hoffmann provides the glue for the family interactions with sly humour, genuine parental concern, and nuanced signs of Mother's frailty.  

The final moments of the play are rightfully between John and a George who, in theory, has become untethered from a son's duty and loyalty to place. Yet these men are both trapped in their own worlds and more importantly the greater world's expectation of who they are meant to be and how they should act. There is no coincidence that 'realist' is in the title. 

Immeasurably aiding the authentic nature of this production is the set design (Barry Park), the depth of which I loved. There is a real sense of a lived in cottage; spatially, how it's dressed, and working elements such as the running water in the kitchen sink. Mark Nicholson's lighting design reinforces this by giving the illusion of both the interior and exterior of the cottage, bigger than you might expect with Garrick's narrow stage. Nyree Hughes' costume design isn't showy which suits these characters down to the ground. Finally, at no point did the Yorkshire accents pull me out of the story so kudos to dialect coach Phil Bedworth. 

The York Realist is a very well written play that has a lot going on under the surface. It is sensitively directed by Barry Park with excellent performances across the board. This is mature theatre of a high standard that is well worth a look. There are two more performances in the extended season on at 7.30pm, 27th and 29th of July at the Garrick Theatre in Guildford. 

Miranda - Garrick Theatre (7 December 2014)

Before we begin I must make a disclaimer. There will no aquatic puns of any nature, especially of the piscine variety, perpetrated in the writing of this review. I take my mermaids very seriously. There was that one time as the sun was setting on North Cottesloe beach where, if you tilted your head at just the right angle and squinted into the sunlight, I swear you could see the shimmering mirage of a mackerel with the head of Angelina Jolie. It was a formative experience.

Okay, it’s no secret to say that the invalid woman our good doctor Sir Paul Martin brings home after a fishing trip is in fact a mermaid. She’s on the damn poster for goodness sake! Yep, tail and all. This delightful creature, swaddled in a blanket to conceal her lack of ambulatory prowess, wants to see the sights of London – its museums and operas – whilst also enjoying the attention of the decidedly upright men who are ensorcelled by her.

There are only a few problems with this. First off, well, she’s a mermaid. Secondly, said men are actually bound by the mundane human concept known as a committed relationship. Yes, the good doctor’s wife Lady Clare is none too happy, and the engaged maid Betty and equally betrothed socialite Isobel aren’t exactly thrilled about their other halves’ wandering attention spans either. 

The setup is rife for a drawing room comedy of manners with a little upstairs-downstairs class structure thrown in for good measure and an outside disruption that is like nothing the rich and their servants have seen before. Set in London during the forties the action takes place in the Martin’s well-appointed living room. The comedy runs more to the one liner and pun variety where the unwitting players dance around Miranda’s true identity – yes, there truly is something “fishy” about this interloper.

But this was the major issue I had with the play – the construction of the narrative itself. The audience is well ahead of most of the characters regarding Miranda’s true nature and we’re basically waiting for them to play catch up. This means the natural expectation of seeing the tail and full extent of the mermaid persona has to be denied the viewer as it must remain hidden from the bulk of the characters. This felt contrived and slowed proceedings down for me. The effect it has on the type of humour deployed means we are laughing more at the characters for being so dim-witted - how could they not know what we know? - than, for the most part, genuinely comic entanglements.

However, there was much to like here. Natalie Aung Than, with impressive eyelashes and long blonde wig, is suitably beguiling as Miranda. She plays the ‘patient’ with a mix of wide eyed excitement at the wonders of London and a subtle knowing of the impact her charms have on the menfolk. When the blankets are finally cast aside in a lovely sequence she looks agile and sleek with the tail being an impressive piece of costuming. Rhett Clarke plays the doctor with a certain English foppishness that was kind of endearing as it precluded any sense of dubious intent. His Sir Paul was more the well-intentioned yet absent-minded professor archetype.

I was most impressed with Tayla Howard who really sparkles as Isobel, the hat store owner and willing gossip. Belinda Djurdjevic (Betty, a housemaid), Rodney Palmer (Charles, the manservant) , Christine Ellis (Nurse Cary) and Brendan Ellis (Nigel Hood) all give solid support which leaves the actual lead of the play, Mary Murphy as Lady Clare Martin. While Miranda may be the centre of attention the story is really about how Lady Clare deals with this intrusion and doubts about her husband’s fidelity before finally working out the real situation. In many ways it’s a thankless part as the character really is the foundation around which the exposition and showier roles are built upon. Murphy handles this well with a straight-forward honesty that is hard to fault.

The costuming (Lynda Stubbs) is very well done aside from the mermaid tail which is the highlight. There is a touch of class in the choices for both male and female which befits the higher strata of society the Martins and Isobel occupy. The play worked best for me when we see the ramifications of Miranda’s enchantment. At one point Charles and Nigel, having broken off their respective engagements to Betty and Isobel, arrive at the same time to propose marriage to Miranda. It is both funny and telling.

Miranda is a pleasant couple of hours with gentle humour and a charming conceit and has 4 more shows on at the Garrick Theatre in Guildford until 13 December. It was written by Peter Blackmore, Directed by Rodney Palmer and stars Belinda Djurdjevic, Tayla Howard, Mary Murphy, Rhett Clarke, Natalie Aung Than, Rodney Palmer, Christine Ellis and Brendan Ellis. 

Ninety - Garrick Theatre (15 October 2014)

Time is certainly on the mind of all involved with this production of Joanna Murray-Smith’s examination of a once vibrant relationship now defunct. How the passage of time changes who we are and how we relate to others, particularly our significant other. But also in the major device in the construction of this two-hander – Isabel (Katrina Murphy) has requested exactly ninety minutes of her about-to-be-remarried ex-husband’s time.

William (Gino Cataldo) is less than enthused on his arrival at her artist’s residence but after the initial sparring they soon reminisce about the high and low points of their time together. The production plays out in real time for that hour and a half with flashbacks to how they first met; their honeymoon in Europe; the birth of their daughter; and the tragedy that ultimately dooms the marriage.

In many ways this play reminds me of Scott McArdle’s Coincidences at the End of Time where two former lovers meet and relive their relationship as the world crumbles around them. In that play though, time is about to end forever so there is urgency to the remembrances with considerable weight to the revelations that are ultimately teased out. Here the faux ‘ticking clock’ of the ninety minutes feels like a gimmick that has more to do with the running time then any mechanism to generate urgency and stakes as time ticks down. More importantly, I didn’t understand what Isabel’s goal was to ask for such a specific block of time – it seemed like a lot of extraneous hard work to set up such an artificial device with no actual purpose. They spar, they remember, they part.

The writing was particularly stylised and oftentimes I did not believe that two people – people who had, it turned out, experienced so much together – would talk to each other like that (“You promised me ninety!”). Then again, Isabel is an art restorer and William is a newly minted Golden Globe winning actor so there was a sense of artifice to the many art and theatrical references with the occasional curious, dated pop culture references thrown in (Bozz Scaggs anyone?). Of course, William is significantly older than Isabel having been her teacher so there is naturally a disparity in the comparative frames of reference.

The use of the ‘restored painting metaphor’ was heavy-handed as well – as layers are peeled away we ‘see’ who the subjects of a painting really are. Finally there are times the characters appear to be addressing the audience more than they are each other – this was odd as it robbed us of intimacy and insight as if they were simply regurgitating memories instead of experiencing them.

My biggest problem with the play though is that it was performed at the same pace and measured tone during its length. Murphy was a warm and engaging presence but was so throughout – it is suggested that Isabel is the far more sexually adventurous of the two but I never saw that edge of ‘danger’ nor any passion or ‘spark’ between them. William is an award winning actor but Cataldo never gives him that sense of theatricality – there were moments that could have been played ‘big’ and even the stylised dialogue could have really been emphasised as a ‘performance’. This meant that when his final monologue comes – a time when all artifice should be absent and we see true grief and rawness – it doesn’t have the same impact.

There needed to be more gear changes along the journey to earn the emotional climaxes for both characters. It would have also helped with characterisation - William largely comes off as a prick. When he tells Isabel in the early going why he doesn’t love her anymore he doesn’t just run over her with the bus he reverses the damn thing and steamrolls the poor girl’s prone body a few times in a verbal outburst that was quite shocking. Now, if he was being an ‘Actor’ I might have forgiven the excess but here it made it almost impossible for me to identify with the character.

The one sequence that did work well is when Isabel, the young female student, rings her teacher William and propositions him for sex. He is the reluctant one and amusingly, Isabel tells him that he should be ‘stalking’ her. When he does turn up at her flat she initially denies all knowledge of the call. This sense of play needed to be used more to break up the ‘sameness’ of the production. The actors had a beautifully designed set to perform in as the artist’s loft was lovingly rendered and the lighting cues certainly helped with the flashback sequences.

For me the writing was problematic but this is the sort of play that needed to be far more adventurous within the conceit that was set up to really work.

Directed by Brendan Ellis, Written by Joanna Murray-Smith and starring Katrina Murphy and Gino Cataldo, Ninety’s final performance is tonight at the Garrick Theatre.

Dramafest - Session 3 (26 September 2014)

Session three and some common themes are beginning to emerge to join the monsters of Wednesday night. Seems auditioning and the afterlife hold great sway over our theatrical youth… perhaps the fear of facing both is a driving motivation?

We start with another Youthfest wildcard entry, this time St Norberts’s College with a completely different play called The Audition. Here a large ensemble is auditioning for a musical with the initially unseen director calling the shots aided by a stage manager played with great verve. My apology as no cast was listed in the programme so I am unable to identify individual actors by name. There are the usual suspects including - the actress with an overinflated ego, the hyperkinetic dancer, some who just want one line, others happy to be an extra, an actor who will even do a decent Hungarian accent if required. These are all handled with a light touch as the director becomes increasingly frustrated – no one apparently can sing – and the stage manager competently goes about his business.

The play then breaks away from the audition process itself to explore other characters in more detail – a mother and her actress-daughter at odds; an actress recounting the joy in her first performance only to be dejected to discover her mother never turned up to the show; and most effectively, the ‘freak’ who was bullied because she was different yet finds solace on the stage. We also see the father of the egotistical actress threaten the director when he dares not cast her.

This was an interesting play because the tone oscillates wildly from comedy to moments of great drama and poignancy to almost slapstick with the sequence involving the father. Additionally, it seemed to break the storytelling framework it initially set to explore events outside the realm of the audition itself. It was well performed – in particular the stage manager and the ‘freak’, with the ‘Hungarian guy’ a notable secondary role – and had great energy but the tonal shifts were a little problematic for me.

Then it was time for the 10 minute spotlight featuring none other than ITA President Paul Treasure himself as a man in search of class and culture who discovers beer instead. Titled Two and a Half Pints I can attest to the fact that Mister Treasure did indeed impressively imbibe two and a half cans of what appeared to be Guinness of some sort. He started a little nervously but soon was in full swing as a man mocked by the Picasso’s and Dali’s of the world as the grog decimated whatever talent and ambitions he might have had.

Next up was Comatose, directed by Gail Lusted and written by Brittany Isaia for Garrick Theatre.  Here a 17 year old girl – Skye - is involved in a car accident killing her younger brother and sister and leaving herself and her boyfriend in a coma. In hospital she is visited by her mother, sister, best friend and another school friend. While fully observant she is unable to communicate with anyone other than her dead siblings and comatose boyfriend as she hovers precariously in the limbo between life and death. The doctor in charge turns out to be, rather improbably, the father of Skye’s boyfriend who blames her for his son’s condition. Meanwhile, Skye’s sister finds love in the hospital ward with a guy who only later reveals himself to be a cancer patient.

This play deals with very serious themes – terminal illness, euthanasia, guilt, blame, attitudes towards death, ethical dilemmas. Unfortunately the writing lacks the subtext and subtlety required to explore such weighty matters effectively. Everyone speaks exactly what’s on their mind and the emotional responses simply didn’t ring true. For example, the sister goes from horror that Skye may be disconnected from life support to elation that her new boyfriend is cured of cancer within a heartbeat, her comatose sibling totally forgotten as celebrations are planned. Similarly, the doctor at one point screams at his son to ‘wake up’. With dialogue so direct the upping of emotional stakes in the acting only came across as overwrought.

The actress playing Skye was good but was sidelined as an observer for much of the play. There was an interesting beat when Skye meets her dead brother and sister who entice her to ‘let go’ with the promise of delights the afterlife will bring. This had the potential to be a strong dilemma for the character – whether to fight for life or slip away to join her siblings – but that decision was invested in others, diluting her potency in the story. Another angle partially set-up was that Skye could have been the catalyst for other characters to confess their secrets and fears to but we didn’t know them well enough to care, none more so than the friend who declares she is gay. I had no idea who this was as she appears from nowhere so I had no empathy or connection to her plight.

With more work on the script to pull back on the expository dialogue and invest the central character with more agency this could be a strong piece of theatre. The play starred Brittany Isaia, Shannen Precious, Sam Dunlop, Briony Kennedy, Elizabeth Offer, Nicola D Kinnane, Deakhan Lowrie, Shelly Miller, and Luke Miller.

Lastly, we revisited the afterlife with Garrick Theatre’s After Life: The Essential Handbook. This was a curious hybrid, starting off as a tongue-in-cheek description of the rules of the afterlife delivered by deceased author Amber Jennings but then following the actual story of Amber’s arrival in the hereafter and her struggles with an evil leader of nomad ghosts. I initially thought this was going to be a series of amusing vignettes as chapter headings were announced. Those headings proved to be signposts, however, for a self-contained story that I found a little muddled but ultimately suggested that evil isn’t as clear cut as it seems. The standout here was the actress playing Amber’s sister who is silently (though notable) in the background for most of the play until giving a lovely monologue late in the piece. Directed by Emily Theseira, the play featured Georgia Rodgers, Ben Adcock, Liam Longley, Chelsea Gibson, Daniel Slee, Natalie Cox, Madeleine Shaw, Kieran Theseira, James Riseborough, Ferida Mousavi, Chantelle Schuurmans, and Alison Seiler.

Dramafest continues with two sessions on Saturday at Hackett Hall in Floreat – 2pm and 7.30pm.