Women - Black Martini Theatre (10 June 2016)

Inject modern day attitude and vernacular into a period setting and you get a funny reimagining of the novel Little Women. Set at the end of the American Civil War this iteration of the March family isn’t quite as genteel as one might expect. Of course, the conceit of transporting a sitcom style quartet of sisters to the past is the wellspring for the humour.

At its best this production honours that premise as the sisters played by Shannen Precious (Jo), Cat Perez (Meg), Claire Tebbutt (Amy) and Virginia Cole (Beth) crackle and fizz off each other to amusing effect. When they are separated through (did they have spoiler alerts in the 19^th century?) death and the lure of prospects further afield from dreary Concord, Massachusetts, the play loses a lot of its driving force until the surviving members are reunited at the end. That is more a testament to the chemistry of the core foursome than a reflection of the supporting cast who have important roles in creating the context of the world our heroines have stumbled into.

In essence the play revolves around which sister will become the pre-eminent member of the family and achieve their dreams once Marmee has left to be by their ailing father’s side. Perez brings tremendous sass to her role as Meg with plenty of razor sharp quips and asides. Occasionally though she would appear to address her remarks to the audience with very specific eye contact. That breaking of the fourth wall felt more unintentional rather than a stylistic choice and something to be mindful of. Her main ‘rival’ for ascendancy, Jo, is drolly portrayed by Precious and the contrast in styles worked well. Jo dreams of becoming a writer and her attempts at cajoling her siblings into impromptu performances of original plays sets the tone early.

Tebbutt’s ditzy Amy is played with affectionate naivety in another clearly delineated role. The mock concern for Beth’s fading health is wonderfully zany as she lurks on the fringes of the stage unwilling to come any closer. Cole is all tragic beauty and fragility as Beth succumbs to her fate. It is, by necessity, the most muted role with the exception of a cheeky moment as coughs turn into a beatbox jam.

Surrounding this core are characters that are far more grounded which allows room for the zaniness to work. Notable amongst these are Maddy Jolly Fuentes whose Marmee is maternal concern writ large in a turn that does fit the period in question. Matthew Abercromby is an earnest, kind-hearted Mister Brooke who suffers the moods of the hyper-kinetic Meg in essentially a straight man role. Will Moriarty also lends a certain solemnity as Professor Bhaer. Michael Casas, however, tackles his various characters as if he was indeed in a sitcom and they tended to slide into caricature, given away by an impish grin.

Which leaves Hock Edwards as Laurie to provide the main object of attention as the other great conceit of the play is that none of the sisters has ever met a man before, no, not even a cousin. His is a character that is oddly caught between the archetypal period love interest and a more modern, conflicted interpretation. Edwards has a strong moment when romantic desire turns to humiliation as Laurie is rebuffed by Jo causing the character to flee the country. As you do.

Director Jessica Serio keeps the pace humming along as befits the style of humour. Scene transitions are quick with the stagehands adeptly redressing the set to represent the March household and a few other key locations. The various Perez monologues as Meg ‘reads’ letters to her sisters are more effectively staged when we see the other characters acting out what she imagines is happening in places like New York.

Overall this was a funny production that worked best when the four sisters were together with the banter running thick and fast. This is Black Martini Theatre’s second comedy for the year and it is a niche they are comfortably occupying in the Murdoch theatre firmament.  

Punk Rock - Murdoch Theatre Company (28 April 2016)

It’s a scenario that has become frighteningly prevalent in recent times – a lone gunman wreaking havoc and misery on innocent people who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. At school, at work, in a café; no public place seems immune to the criminal insanity. We watch in disbelief as school shootings become incomprehensibly commonplace in the US. We are brutally reminded despite tighter gun laws in the wake of the Port Arthur atrocity that this type of evil can strike on our own shores, the Martin Place siege a case in point. Oftentimes it is the act of disaffected youth – radicalised, marginalised, traumatised. We lament what could make someone do such a heinous act?      

This brings us to Punk Rock, a slow burn drama that builds to a harrowing climax. Set in an English school where students are preparing for their mock exams, it explores the pressures and preoccupations that might lead a person to spiral so completely out of control. Among the many are bullying, sexual identity, relationship dramas, rejection and the pressure to succeed, to conform, to rebel. It’s a powder keg of adolescent emotions and power dynamics where any of the students might snap.

At first it is a familiar world – the teasing, bullying, and knockabout ribaldry of high school where identities and pecking orders are forged and refined. But there’s a sense of dread that creeps in as we slowly come to realise something isn’t quite right here. This is where Murdoch Theatre Company’s admirable attempt fails. Too many elements detract from the creation and ratcheting up of that tension.

Foremost of these is the sound design. Live music is performed by Michael Bennett-Hullin and William Burgess on guitar and drums providing authentic bursts of punk music to start the show and between scenes. However, once the guitar amp is switched off there is a muzak-like soundtrack piped in from the speakers high up on the back wall of Studio 411 that was distracting to say the least. I sighed with relief once it stopped after what felt like 20 straight minutes only for it to sporadically return throughout including, most unfortunately, the lead-up scene to the moment where a gun goes off. I didn’t understand why it was there in the context of scenes set in a school library or why it came in and out without any seeming rhyme or reason. It totally undercut any attempt to build that atmosphere of dread.

The lighting design also periodically confused me as again, the action takes place indoors so changes in the intensity of lighting during scenes didn’t make much sense especially when linked to dialogue about the level of heat in the room. If it was supposed to reflect emotional intensity then I would argue that this is the job of the actors to convey.

The set design was very good with all the trappings of a school in decay – battered tables and chairs, graffiti strewn cushions and a warped row of cupboards to represent lockers. Except for one important aspect – the band was visible behind a lattice framework that was the centrepiece of the back of the set. Once they completed their punk interludes all the musicians could do was watch the action with nowhere to hide from the audience. This posed another distraction. At one point a section of that framework was opened as a ‘window’ by an actor at the start of a scene. The guitarist closed it before the start of the next scene! This totally wrenched me out of the supposedly hermetically sealed world of the story.  

To the performances and Mike Casas brought immediate creepiness and intensity to his portrayal of William instead of perhaps modulating this to incrementally build as his character’s arc deepens. It is a difficult role and he plugged away at it but often he was caught out Acting in a tic laden, mannered performance. Thomas Dimmick gives the bully Bennett a sneering verbosity but I didn’t get a sense of physical menace or unpredictability. He did handle the ‘lipstick scene’ well after the perennial target of Bennett’s scorn (Chadwick played by Sean Welsh) questions his sexuality. Welsh delivers the memorable monologue about all the woes of mankind with straight forward earnestness and plays the reserved ‘nerd’ with nice understatement. 

Paige Mews is the new girl, Lilly, who becomes the object of William’s misplaced affections while already sleeping with Nicholas (Will Moriarty). It is a steady performance but I didn’t feel the inner turmoil that would drive a character to deliberately burn herself with a cigarette lighter. Shannen Precious has some nice moments as Tanya, another target for Bennett’s anger. She adds fleeting moments of humour and a touch of backbone within the group hierarchy. Will Moriarty’s Nicholas was oddly lacking in swagger or charm as Bennett’s presumptive buddy and object of Lilly’s attentions. Bella Doyle rounds out the cast as Bennett’s put upon girlfriend Cissy bringing equal measures of mean girl snark and helplessness as the character’s relative status is determined by his behaviour.

The climax is still disturbing – how could the depiction of cold blooded murder not be? But its power is diluted by the wide spacing of the performers whereas a more claustrophobic configuration would have worked better – they are trapped and there is no way out. The final scene was omitted. I’m in two minds about this. In many ways it’s superfluous as it provides no easy answers. What it does do, however, is let the audience breathe again before releasing them back into the world. A world you would like to think is safe but one where what they have just witnessed is a terrifying possibility.

Co-directed by Tay Broadley and Justin Crossley, Punk Rock is one of the more ambitious productions I’ve seen staged at Studio 411 (formerly the Drama Workshop) and should be commended for that. Ultimately though, there were too many aspects working against propelling the themes and narrative into truly compelling dramatic territory.

Boise, Idaho - Black Martini Theatre (31 March 2016)

Have you ever sat in a cafe sipping a latte gazing across the room at all the other customers wondering who they are, where they’ve come from and what the future might hold? Perhaps you’ve witnessed a demonstrative couple and speculated what the cause of their angst might be; maybe a loving couple sponsors romantic thoughts... or morose ones depending on your mood; and then there’s the body language of a silent pairing that may speak volumes. We imprint our own experiences and desires on anonymous strangers who simply happen to be in the vicinity. If you’re a writer it’s pretty much an occupational hazard.

But what if the targets of your musings knew of the imaginary narrative you were building for them? What if they started to play along, to actually become the alternative versions you conjured? How do you react if your fictional hold becomes so great they come to believe they are the characters in the drama fabricated in your mind? This is the premise for Boise, Idaho, a snappily written 30 minute play produced by Murdoch University’s Black Martini Theatre and directed by first-timer Luke Gratton. 

In a cafe that may be in Paris but certainly isn’t in Idaho a man (Hock Edwards) narrates a tale of love, infidelity, and dead rodents using a couple at a nearby table (Launcelot Ronzan and Tijana Simich) as his inspiration. The couple become aware of his verbal ‘big print’ and soon begin to play along until things get out of hand as the salad flies and the dry cleaning bill mounts. Even the waiter (Tay Broadley) is sucked into this surreal mix of reality and fantasy like the Millennium Falcon caught in a tractor beam. It is clever, funny, and well written as a series of distinct sequences unfold.

Edwards is very good as the Narrator. He dominates the early proceedings delighting in the purple prose used to create a fully realised fantasy world that is exaggerated and absurd. He exhibits good comic timing and underplays the funnier lines to great effect... for no apparent reason.

The inevitable change of gears comes mainly through Simich whose character twigs to the conceit and then is the first to embrace it. She plays well off Ronzan as they work through the initial confusion of their new personas to displaying real emotions of hurt and betrayal as the lines become blurred between fantasy and reality.

Ronzan is largely the straight man here until inhabiting his new identity with quite some exuberance leading to a dark climax that is sensibly undercut with a lighter denouement. Along the way there are some surprising moments that give Broadley’s waiter a genuine reason for cleaning up during final bows.

Simply staged and briskly directed to suit the punchy writing this was the equivalent of having a nicely made coffee with a good muffin or piece of cake at your favourite cafe while daydreaming about that intriguing couple in the corner booth. Just, whatever you do, don’t order the soup and salad. Seriously, trust me on this!

Written by Sean Michael Welch and Directed by Luke Gratton, Boise, Idaho is on at Studio 411 on the Murdoch campus until 2 April and stars Hock Edwards, Launcelot Ronzan , Tijana Simich and Tay Broadley.