A View From The Bridge - WAAPA (30 April 2016)

Respect. Pride. Honour. What it means to be a man. The man. In the family. In the neighbourhood. In an insulated world where work is scarce and masculinity paramount. Where your name and reputation mean everything. To lose that is to lose everything.

A View From The Bridge follows last year’s WAAPA production of another Arthur Miller play, All My Sons. The depth of insight in Miller’s writing about the male condition is exemplary and in the character of Eddie finds a subject who is undone by his own misconceptions and anxieties about his responsibilities as a man. It is a tragedy of Eddie’s own making which heightens the devastating conclusion.  

  

The setting is a waterfront neighbourhood of early 50s Brooklyn. Longshoreman Eddie (Giuseppe Rotondella) works on the docks and lives in an apartment with his wife Beatrice (Elle Mickel) and beautiful 17 year old niece Catherine (Brittany Santariga). He is overly protective of “Catie” and reluctantly acquiesces to allow her to take a job as a stenographer at a plumbing company.

When two brothers, Marco (Joel Davies) and Rodolpho (Rory O’Keeffe) are taken in by Eddie after being smuggled into the US by ship from an impoverished Italy, fractures begin to appear. Catie falls for the charming Rodolpho which so disturbs Eddie that he seeks the advice of lawyer Alfieri (Lachlan Ruffy). He claims “something ain’t right” about the blonde Italian who sings, helps Catie make a dress, wants to visit Broadway, and shows other ‘effeminate’ traits. Eddie thinks Rodolpho is on the scam so he can stay in the country and become a citizen but deeper, more troubling reasons emerge as to the true source of Eddie’s anxiety.

He begins to persecute Rodolpho which alienates his wife, his niece, and brings him into conflict with Marco. Eddie escalates matters out of his control when Catie is determined to marry Rodolpho. The result of his unthinkable betrayal so incenses Marco that the two men are bound together by the strictures of disputed honour on a destructive trajectory neither can abandon. Like All My Sons, the play slowly simmers and ratchets up the tension until it all explodes in a powerhouse finale.

Rotondella as Eddie gives one of the finest performances I have seen at WAAPA in the last few years. There are so many layers revealed from the forthright, cocksure man’s man who is confident in his position and status to the slow unravelling of that certainty as Eddie’s pre-eminence is questioned by all around him. The sense of discomfort he displays as Eddie tries to vocalise his disgust of Rodolpho to Alfieri – clutching his hat so tightly he almost mangles it as he rotates the brim over and over. The sheer anguish he bellows as Eddie is bent over double at the realisation of what he has done and its horrible ramifications. There is a calculated moment of machismo as he teaches Rodolpho to box, putting the young Italian in his place with sharp authority and a gleam in the eye. This is matched by the dismay Rotondella allows Eddie as Marco silently threatens him with a true display of strength. Then there’s the ending where the actor cuts loose with all the pent up bile and anger of self-loathing, masked in the name of reclaiming respect. From start to finish it is a riveting performance.

It is followed very closely by Santariga as Catherine, playing a 17 year old on the cusp of womanhood. She inhabits Catie with an innocence that belies her beauty as the young girl is unaware of the impact of how she dresses and behaves around the men in the neighbourhood. Santariga exhibits a girlish enthusiasm as she scampers around the apartment keen to please her Uncle and Aunty while pouting at setbacks and pleading for her independence. The immediate infatuation she shows with Rodolpho is nicely portrayed as is the growing strength as the young girl matures into a woman with marriage on the horizon and the need to find her own way. The complex relationship with Eddie is handled with assurance as is the exuberance of first love with Rodolpho.

O’Keeffe plays Rodolpho with a joyous disregard of the judgements swirling around about the character’s sexuality and motives. His suitor is charming and an idealist which is a nice counterpoint to the hardnosed realism of the docks. It’s an engaging portrayal. By comparison the powerfully built Davies is almost a silence presence, his Marco slow to talk and to act but when he does it is with notable brutishness.

Mickel portrays Eddie’s wife as a pragmatist and voice of reason within the household. Her Beatrice effectively stands up to Eddie and gives Catie maternal advice which becomes more insistent as the true nature of the situation dawns on the character. Exhibiting a fine comic sensibility in previous WAAPA productions, it was refreshing to see Mickel tackle a dramatic role which she imbued with moments of humour and humanity. Finally, of the principal cast, Ruffy plays Alfieri who is both lawyer and narrator. He adds style - at one point in top and tails - and a lovely singing voice as he croons Paper Doll which becomes increasingly manic to reflect the shifting dynamics of certain relationships on the stage below him.

The set itself was quite sparse with a small kitchen table and chairs in the middle; a large backdrop with a circular cut-out that was lit with different colours and used for actors to pose in silhouette; and a feature I didn’t like – Eddie’s chair on the edge of the thrust facing away from the audience. This meant for a section of the viewers, key moments were unseen with Rotondella’s back to them. The lighting was also a little hit and miss – the silhouettes were effective but too many times scenes were lit with actors in partial shadow or dimness.

These are minor quibbles as this is a fine dramatic production with excellent performances that builds to a compelling conclusion. Directed by Lawrie Cullen-Tait, A View From The Bridge is on at The Roundhouse Theatre until 5 May.

Venus in Fur - Black Swan State Theatre Company (15 January 2015)

Power. Control. Domination. Subjugation. Mistress. Slave. Goddess. Mortal. Director. Actress. Ambivalent. Ambiguous. Explicable. Extricable. A potent stew of taboos and desires mixed with a healthy serving of word play, sly humour, and top notch performances.

Who really is in control – the one who dominates or the one who craves domination thus seeking to set the terms of the relationship? How easily can those lines be blurred? In real life, in fiction, in the creative process? How easily can they be reversed?

Venus in Fur is a wonderfully layered ‘play within a play’ that seeks to explore these issues under the tantalising banner of sex and masochism. But that’s only the pretext for 90 minutes of sparring between two actors who inhabit multiple roles and changing perspective as the balance of power shifts and mutates in riveting fashion.

A playwright/director, Thomas (Adam Booth), is at the end of a fruitless day auditioning actresses for his latest play based on an 1870s masochistic novel. In storms an actress, Vanda (Felicity McKay), hours late, who coincidentally has the same first name as the character in the adaptation. Seemingly coarse and unsuitable she convinces Thomas to allow her to audition with a level of preparation and insight that intrigues and impresses him. As they read scenes together his play comes to life in ways Thomas never bargained for. Indeed, Vanda proves adept at taking control of not only the creative process but Thomas’ own latent desires.

Booth is good as Thomas – from frustrated director to eager supplicant, he is challenged by Vanda the actress and Vanda the character of his adaptation with even the goddess Aphrodite making an appearance. There is an earnestness and belief in Booth’s portrayal that acts as the bedrock for the assault to come - on Thomas’ motives for adapting the play, to his interpretation of its meaning and, ultimately, who and what he really is. Highlights come in an early monologue from the play reading where the fascination with fur (and pain through submission) is revealed – a Countess Aunt who beat the character with a birch switch while he was prone on her fur coat. 

Booth also has a well-judged outburst where he turns verbally nasty after Vanda pushes him too far and he tries to reassert control as snarling director over the ‘stupid actress’. Then there is a sense of eagerness and desperation as the character plummets further down the rabbit hole and begs to subjugate his very identity to be nothing more than property. The scene where Thomas is commanded to change Vanda’s footwear to knee-high boots is languid sensuality and desire writ large.

Felicity McKay is simply outstanding as Vanda. Her accent work is excellent and she slides in and out of various characters with astonishing ease, each one of them utterly distinctive so there is no prospect of confusion. She runs the gamut from playful, sexy, sensuous, commanding, dismissive, brash and refined but always with an underlying air of intrigue about who this person really is. There are explanations given that seem plausible enough but still left me in doubt as to their veracity. It’s the far showier part but handled superbly in McKay’s professional debut. Above all, the sense of playfulness here is a joy to watch as is a compelling stage presence even when not featured in any given scene. A striking figure, especially in an array of memorable costumes, McKay is eminently watchable because she is always in the moment.

The set is quite simple with a divan the centrepiece. A storm rages “outside” (which pales in comparison to the tempest on stage) and the lighting handled this effectively. I wasn’t a fan of the incidental music that was intermittent and barely audible which made it more a distraction than an asset. Part of the ‘power struggle’ is who controls the blocking in the play within the play and there is a nice sense of movement throughout as a result. 

The writing is smart and it is genuinely funny though the humour is sometimes a little off-kilter given the context but I loved it for being as brash and unapologetic as its leading lady. There are also lots of theatre in-jokes (where is stage left again?) that amusingly bolster the creative battleground for supremacy between director and actress. The last stanza took an interesting turn as events fold in on themselves and roles are reversed but on first viewing I found that a little hard to follow. It certainly sponsors further thought and debate and this is a play that will linger with you long after the final whip crack.

Venus in Fur is a cleverly written play that allows two talented actors to inhabit multiple personas in a provocative, insightful and funny exploration of a subject matter many consider taboo. It is a great start to the theatre season and the upcoming Fringe Festival of which it’s a part.

Written by David Ives, Directed by Lawrie Cullen-Tait and starring Adam Booth and Felicity McKay, the play is at the Studio Underground in the State Theatre Centre and opens Saturday 17^th January and runs until Sunday the 8th February.