Confessions of a Pyromaniac - The Blue Room Theatre (10 July 2014)

The power of expectation is a curious beast.

‘Confessions of a Pyromaniac’ is such an evocative title especially in a country where deliberately lit bushfires cause havoc and tragedy every fire season.

The poster is intriguing.

The synopsis I read online refers to a ‘recovering pyromaniac’; ‘confessions’ promises revelations and secrets.

All elements that are like dry tinder waiting for a spark to ignite them into action.

A spark that never comes.

Sometimes expectations can be misleading.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a solid play but it’s not anywhere near what I expected based on the title, the poster and the synopsis.

Sure, there is a phrase that is repeated a few times, “Light it up or burn it down” but that’s the extent of the pyromania.

Instead, this is a story about sibling rivalry and the conflict between talent and mediocrity. The ‘pyromaniac’ in question is Chris (Stephanie Somerville) who has lobbed unexpectedly at her brother’s place in Sydney. He is Max (Matthew Cooper), a published writer of children’s books who is having trouble finishing his latest fantasy installment. She is a washed out playwright who drinks too much and has no time for people who tolerate the mediocre like (according to Chris) Max himself and his fiancé Sarah (Katya Shevstov). Then there’s David (Calen Tassone), a university student and photographer who lives with Max and Sarah. He fancies Chris and she quickly leads him astray as she disrupts the normal state of these people’s lives.

In some ways this reminded me of Zak Hilditch’s feature film The Actress, famously made for only $700, where a disruptive force causes chaos in a shared house arrangement. Yet where the antagonist in that story was deliberately manipulative and calculated, Chris is more an annoyance that rubs everyone up the wrong way. She tells David he doesn’t need to go to university to unleash his talent and that he should travel the world instead. She is scornful of Sarah’s office job and most of all she mocks her brother’s writing talent.

She rebukes him after he (amusingly) suggests that they write together – his fantasy worlds full of dragons and her penchant for politics and violence unlike anything seen before! [Congratulations to the audience member sat behind my left ear who whispered ‘Game of Thrones’ in case anyone didn’t get the joke.] He constantly pleads to know “how it ends” and we discover that their dead father was, according to Max, a storyteller and is the author of the “Light it up or let it burn” phrase. Chris has a different interpretation on what their father was and blames Max for leaving her behind in Perth when he went to Sydney.

This is well acted with Cooper (also the writer) a charismatic presence; Somerville’s Chris both dismissive and impulsive; Shevstov’s Sarah a concerned and practical foil; and Tassone imbues the young university student with wide eyed naivety and sweetness.

The changes in the relationships and the power hierarchy, however, felt too abrupt and too clinical. Chris starts as the woman who always needs a drink in her hand to the one who refuses a toast as Max descends into booze and pills. Their diametrically opposite character arcs are almost too perfectly constructed. The angry rift between Max and Sarah felt manufactured to generate maximum conflict and David’s change of allegiances was somewhat jarring. This may be due to the fact that at only an hour’s duration it’s difficult to convey such seismic shifts organically.

The other query I have is around the Chris character. She may be the Amadeus to Max’s Salieri but there is no evidence of this until late in proceedings when she receives a paid commission for a new play. I never saw the talent that gave her the moxie to belittle those around her.

Having said that, the dialogue is good and there was much to like here including the acting and a sparse but effective set that looked like a typical back porch in some outer Sydney suburb. While the play was not what I expected it did provide an interesting look at a sibling rivalry that revolved around writing and storytelling and that is to be appreciated.

Confessions of a Pyromaniac, Produced and Directed by Shakara Walley, Written by Matthew Cooper, and starring Matthew Cooper, Katya Shevstov, Calen Tassone, and Stephanie Somerville is on at The Blue Room until 19 July. 

Giving Up The Ghosts - The Blue Room Theatre (9 July 2014)

There I was enjoying a cider at the upstairs bar talking to some local theatre luminaries when an innocuous question floats across the conversation, “what did you think of the production?” As you’re about to discover, I was quite impressed by the show and said so. Then it hits me, the person who has introduced themselves only as Sarah is… the writer of said play? Indeed she is. We then proceed to have a fabulous discussion including a ‘deleted scene’ re-enactment, the history of a beautifully written and performed sequence that nearly didn’t make the play, and a wonderfully awkward screenwriter-talking-to-first-time-playwright miscommunication over jargon, the gist of which was about how carefully constructed Giving Up The Ghosts is.

That writer, Sarah Young, is also a stand-up comedian so it was a thoroughly entertaining and interesting discussion, especially when the real life inspiration for one of the characters is briefly introduced and I discover that the stage manager is possibly on a one way trip to Mars (yes, really!). It pays to be a “straggler” (as Sarah put it) at the bar after a show at the Blue Room.

To the play itself - two people meet for the first time by a disused factory near the woods in the middle of the night. They have connected over the internet and have a terrible, shared purpose in mind. The 35 year old woman is Ruth is all wide-eyed, nervous agitation as she waits for seemingly affable truckie Steve to arrive. She has the chemicals and he has the duct tape to make sure the car is airtight.

What follows is a deftly written and performed character piece that has clearly defined ‘movements’ that inform tone and provide the context for the pairs’ interaction. There is the awkward phase as the two meet; a light comic sequence as they are interrupted by amorous youngsters with other things on their mind; a revelatory strand as the reasons for their separate decisions to be at this place bubble to the surface; and then the final sequence that exposes the ‘ghosts’ these two can no longer carry with them which is harrowing yet beautifully handled.

I said to Sarah I was intrigued how she was going to ‘stick the landing’ as it had to be handled sensitively given the undeniably dark subject matter but truthful to the characters that had been so expertly crafted and rendered. She and the actors, Georgia King and Paul Grabovac, thread that needle beautifully to bring a powerful piece of theatre to conclusion as the lights fade on these two damaged souls.

The set is very simple – a stylised ‘tree’ in one corner with two battered car seats centre stage and leaves scattered across the floor. What is really impressive is the rhythm of the play. The use of silence, awkward pauses and moments of reflection add much to the credibility and seriousness of the situation and the character’s understanding of what they intend. But there is humour and humanity here that elevates the whole endeavour.

When I was talking about ‘movements’ Sarah indicated she approached it as if someone was on death row - last meal, last words, last rites - and you can see this in conversations and actions throughout. But there is so much subtlety – Georgia King’s Ruth initially will not let Steve anywhere close let alone touch her so those brief moments of physical contact and who initiates them are critical as their relationship slowly changes. Likewise, when she tells a lame story and later a ‘joke’ they are pivotal character moments. Grabovac’s response is telling as the joke is exposed and doubts encroach. They both play off each other so well and their character’s traits and reasons for being there are expertly conveyed. 

It really is an impressive fusion of intelligent writing and subtle performance. A telling factor is that this felt much longer than its 56 minute running time which is a testament to how well the writing, acting and the understated direction holds up – it never wanes, never loses your attention, indeed it is enthralling throughout.

Written by Sarah Young, Directed by Joe Lui and starring Georgia King and Paul Grabovac, Giving Up The Ghosts finishes at The Blue Room Theatre this Saturday, 12 July. 

Werewolf Priest! The Lamentable Ballad of Father Hank Grimby - The Blue Room Theatre (21 May 2014)

Tired of city living? Considering a move to the countryside? Here’s a real estate tip: don’t EVER relocate to a place described as a “sleepy” hamlet, village or town, clearly code for “place where people die horrible, inexplicable deaths”! This is certainly the case for the “sleepy hamlet” of Huntersville where the yokels are dropping like Sandra Bullock in a Chinese space capsule.   

Fortunately, local priest Hank Grimby is merely mauled… oh, hang on a second! He survives only to become, unbeknownst to himself and the town, a werewolf…

I must confess the werewolf myth fascinates me and is a story arc I use in my own writing to explore the theme of transformation in various ways. In a werewolf tale someone gets ‘bitten’, undergoes a transformation they cannot control, and invariably hurt the ones they love most with tragic consequences. Here, writer-director-producer Levon Polinelli has chosen that someone to be a man of God thereby adding a layer of irony – a symbol of goodness is doomed to commit evil acts most foul every full moon.

But our priest, Hank Grimby (Sven Ironside), is not without sin. He is secretly in love with the Mayor’s daughter (Siobhan Dow-Hall) who is unexpectedly betrothed to renowned explorer (at least in his own mind) George Waggner (Magnus Danger Magnus) who is shortly to arrive in Huntersville. As the death toll mounts, Waggner goes all Quint on the townspeople and promises to kill the beast much to Grimby’s discomfort once he discovers he is in fact said beast. As Grimby frantically searches for a cure to Lycanthropy – announced by the town Doctor (Stephen Lee) to be a potion made from a rare flower – Waggner appeals to the Mayor (AJ Lowe) to unleash his sense of vengeance. Unwitting patsy, Tomas (Daniel Buckle), aids Waggner in his quest for glory.

What to make of this strange beast? Part musical, part melodrama, part comedy, part horror, it is a quirky hybrid that somehow manages to work despite its disparate parts.

Melodrama infuses the forbidden love story between priest and the mayor’s daughter. Already an illicit liaison, the announcement that the Mayor has chosen a husband for his daughter – and asked Grimby to perform the marriage ceremony no less – adds to Grimby’s lament. There are strong moments between the two lovers with Dow-Hall an earnest and tender presence with a lovely singing voice.

The comedy comes courtesy of a larger-than-life Waggner played in scene chewing fashion by Magnus, colourful costume, knife fetish, and all. Lee’s Teutonic doctor also adds plenty of humour with his ‘autopsy’ of a victim a delight.

The original songs and music are strong but this felt more like a play with songs rather than a fully formed musical. There seemed to be the opportunity to have different types of songs assigned to more characters. Waggner’s tall tales about his travels to far flung places such as Patagonia felt ripe for such a treatment as did either the Doctor’s autopsy scene or when he is making his potions. Indeed, Lee ad libs an excerpt from The Skeleton Song at the beginning of the latter scene. Grimby’s songs are mainly of the unrequited love or unsurpassed guilt variety with a ghostly duet early in the second act a highlight. Waggner’s musical pitch to the townsfolk to kill the beast was also memorable.

The horror comes via the deaths of various townsfolk (including Rhianna Hall and Tiffany Swan) and the arrival on stage of the fearsome werewolf. A lot of time and effort is spent setting an ominous mood with the use of lighting, smoke, music cues, and sound effects. It all ends in a climatic final battle that is equal parts high energy and high camp.

This is another quirk of Werewolf Priest – the tone tends to swing wildly. Talking to members of the cast afterwards, they pointed to a particular scene where the audience laugh in the first act and, in their words, suddenly realise that this is funny. This initial uncertainty may be due to the different genres being deployed and the range of acting from over-the-top theatricality to earnest melodrama. Ironside works hard in the title role but others have far showier parts with him the anchor for their antics.

It’s an enjoyable production with plenty of twists and surprises but somehow it feels like it should be bigger, more over the top, with more songs and more, well, werewolf, damn it! It will be interesting to see if it develops into this over time as it has a clear filmic influence in both staging and content with the small Blue Room stage barely able to contain Polinelli’s wild ambition.

Written and directed by Levon Polinelli with Ash Gibson Greig as composer, Werewolf Priest! The Lamentable Ballad of Hank Grimby is on at the Blue Room until 7 June, featuring Sven Ironside, Siobhan Dow-Hall, Magnus Danger Magnus, Stephen Lee, Adrian Lowe, Daniel Buckle, Rhianna Hall, Tiffany Swan and Ayden Doherty.

Uncle Jack - The Blue Room Theatre (6 May 2014)

A young lad is sent by his father to a property in the bush to toughen him up one summer. Here he meets 'Uncle Jack' who is a World War 2 veteran still traumatised by the events of that terrible conflict.

When I was young, 8 or 9 I think it was, my paternal grandfather died. I don’t remember much about him other than he was a stern man and that I was most likely scared of him. What I do remember is that after he passed away the extended family descended on that house looking for booty, a sad indictment to be sure. Three discoveries that fascinated me, however, were: an anti-tank shell, the explosive hollowed out; his war medals; and a collection of newspapers from around the time of WWII stashed away in the long, dark (and I’m sure, haunted) porch that ran down one side of the house. I claimed the anti-tank shell as a prize though I didn’t really understand its significance at the time. We were a long way away from graphic depictions of war on both the large and small screens. But it was a tangible reminder of what my grandfather must have experienced.

I mention this as it was a strong recollection after watching Uncle Jack. Memories I hadn’t thought of in decades. That is the power of this play. Interestingly though, I was talking to a young man at the bar afterwards, himself a storyteller, who liked the play but felt it kept him at a distance as the situation depicted was not one of his experience. In this it may be a quirk of generational differences and I wonder what the girl’s high school group there on the night may have thought as well. For older generations it will no doubt have great resonance and meaning.

The play itself is more a character piece than a true narrative story. Uncle Jack (Quintin George) hits the booze as hard as he works the property and we see the source of his trauma in flashbacks to events in northern Africa, El Alamein and Tobruk prominent amongst them. He is a true Aussie cockie with a sly sense of humour who mentors young Douglas McNab (Ben Hall), the city slicker with the ‘sheila hands’. McNab has concerns of his own as his father (who Jack fought alongside) is disappointed in the boy. The expectations of the father weigh heavily.

As Jack teaches Doug the ways of the land and how to work it they slowly form a strong bond. Jack teases Doug about the ‘comely’ girlfriend who writes to him but it’s clear he misses his wife and own boys who remain in Busselton, another source of his alcohol fuelled pain.

George and Hall play off each other very well which is what makes this all work as basically it relies on the authenticity of their interactions in the absence of any traditional plot mechanics. George gives a very physical performance as the troubled mentor who knows his way about the bush but has constant demons lurking. He captures the larrikin spirit and ‘ocker’ in Jack but doesn’t shy away from showing his terror and vulnerability as well. Hall has the dual roles of the naïve kid who needs to grow up and the father (as soldier) in the flashback scenes. He also narrates the authentic wartime diary entries that allow insight into the northern Africa campaign. This gives Hall the opportunity to play stern and strong when needed; wide-eyed and, in many ways, sweet and exuberant, when dealing with Jack. The pairing works well.

The action takes place mostly on a dirt-filled, circular platform that revolves when the actors put their back into it, again emphasising the physical nature of the bush. The sound design is excellent in recreating the battles in the flashback scenes. There’s even a piano that adds texture to key emotional moments with Hall in particular showing off a fine singing voice, no surprise as both actors are graduates of WAAPA’s musical theatre program. 

Written by Ross Lonnie featuring extracts from Lieutenant Colonel William (Bill) Lonnie's real wartime journal. Directed by Soseh Yekanians, Uncle Jack is on at The Blue Room until 10 May.