By Jonathan Biggins, Drew Forsythe and Phil Scott. The Wharf Revue 2021. York Theatre Seymour Centre. 23 Nov – 23 Dec 2021

Reviewed : 26 November, 2021

“Here once more without the wharf we had before!”

No longer at the Wharf, but at the York Theatre at the Seymour Centre, The Wharf Revue team swing into the opening number of their new show. Will a change of venue matter! It’s highly unlikely. Their faithful audiences have been following them around the state for twenty years for a plethora of reasons. Their biting, acerbic satire for a start! Their intellect and acuity! Their wide experience across the arts: writing, acting, composing, performing.

Jonathan Biggins, Drew Forsythe, Phil Scott and Amanda Bishop use a sharp, penetrating corkscrew to open this Can of Worms that pans policies, politicians and pundits, past and present. The material is clever, cutting, funny, facetious, and always just a little bit serious. The production is precise. Multiple sketches, characters and costume changes demand split second continuity … and the ability to sustain the necessary fast tempo that makes revue work.

The first sketch, “Go Far Away”, is one that hits hard. It poignantly commemorates the 20-year anniversary of the ‘Tampa’ debacle, our cruel rejection of the survivors, and their detention on Christmas Island – a very different “Welcome to the Rock” than that portrayed in Come From Away.

The pandemic and climate change provide plenty of material. Harvey Norman is roasted for his “Job Keeper Bonanza”, and Craig Kelly for his corona conspiracy voicemails. The Nats take a tour of Barnaby Joyce’s coal mine ‘mancave’. And the National Cabinet on Zoom gets a ‘gig’ as the Muppets.

Bob Carr in a red, silk smoking jacket and suitably deep voice advises of diplomacy with China in a carefully metred parody of Coleridge’s Kubla Khan that acknowledges the building of Xi’s “stately pleasure dome”, but also decries the “ancestral (Duttonian) voices” and their prophesies of war.

Jacqui Lambe gets a hilarious “gutful”, as  does  Michaelia Cash, and a hesitant, hard-done-by Gladys Berejiklian asks: “Why did Bob Carr get the Olympics and I got a pandemic?”

Though Joe Biden warns that Donald Trump is a “clear and present danger “,  the “exiled President” returns with The Trump Family Singers, who are not going to say “farewell”.

It wouldn’t be a Wharf Revue without Pauline Hanson and Mark Latham getting a serve, or Kevin Rudd ingratiating himself. Rupert Murdoch meets up with Mephistopheles and the Queen bemoans yet another “annus  horribilis”.

There is much more – too much to record, too much to mention – all clever, all brilliantly conceived, all skilfully performed, all packed into a fast-paced hilarious 90 minutes that finishes with a closing parody on The Wizard of Oz, with Dorothy and Toto trying unsuccessfully to borrow enough to buy ‘the Oztralian dream’:

If baby boomers once could buy a family home

Then why, oh why can’t I?

Biggins, Forsythe, Scott and Bishop are polished, multi-talented performers. They are also  perceptive thinkers and cunning observers. They are a great team – and it’s good to have them back.

Also published in Stage Whispers magazine

Photos : Vishal Pandey

By Bryony Lavery. Adapted from the novel by Alice Sebold. Directed by Deborah Mulhall. New Theatre, Newtown, NSW. 23 November – 18 December, 2021

Reviewed : 24 November, 2021

The Lovely Bones traces the aftermath of the rape and murder of a teenage girl as she looks down from a sort of ‘halfway house’ to heaven. She sees her family’s grief and disbelief at her disappearance at the fact that her body has never been found. She feels the frustration of not being able to tell them that her father is on the right track when he suspects old Mr Harvey, who builds doll’s houses and monuments to his dead wife and hides “trophies” of other murders in a hidden casket.

It’s not an easy story to re-tell, especially as it’s based on a semi-autobiographical best-selling novel that has been translated into 45 languages and adapted for the screen by Peter Jackson. It’s certainly not an easy story to put on the stage. This adaptation by Bryony Lavery follows the original book relatively closely – including direct quotes that exemplify the novelist’s ability to create an impact on her readers:

Susie:   “My name is Salmon, like the fish; first name, Susie. I was fourteen when I was murdered.”

Alice Sebold’s phrasing is simple, expressive. Lavery uses that phrasing impressively to introduce Susie to the audience, then proceeds to recreate a story that is disturbingly of this moment. Stories of sexual assault, violence and abuse dominate local and international news. Sebold’s own story was one of them. She fictionalised it in her novel, and Lavery’s adaptation gives the characters a more immediate voice.

Deborah Mulhall’s production, beset as it was by a pandemic lockdown just as rehearsals began, takes place on a set that designer Robyn Arthur describes as a “fractured playground of contrasting heights and quirks”. Bare, twisted poles surround the “heaven” where  Susie (Sarah Maguire) and her guiding ‘angel’ Franny (Natasha McDonald) look down on the suffering and confusion Susie has left behind. The ingenious use of a fireman’s pole allows Susie to move into the real world, a ghostly presence that wishes her voice could be heard.

Franny:  “When the dead are done with the living, the living can go on to other things.”

Maguire and McDonald carry much of the production. Maguire gives Susie a sensitive teenager’s perception and frankness. She questions, urges and pleads as she watches her family grow away from her. Maguire moves lightly on the stage, creating a spectral  Susie that is engagingly captivating.

As her ‘angelic therapist’, McDonald is open, supportive, just a tiny bit over-the-top. She answers questions when she can, leaves Susie guessing when she can’t, introduces a little humour that gently lightens Susie’s journey.

Unfortunately, the many scenes and anecdotes that punctuate the production do not gel quite as convincingly. A more subtle touch is needed in both the action and the continuity to make the characters more real – especially the older characters who need to find the layers that make them more three dimensional, their reactions more plausible, less jerky. This is a hard piece of theatre to negotiate. It is played out by 14 actors across many scenes. Susie’s family, friends and the local police trying to accept her disappearance and move on. The callous perpetrator continuing to insinuate himself into the community. All require more sensitive, sustained empathy to be truly believable.

Some aspects of the blocking are a little out of kilter with the seriousness of the play. An onstage costume change where costumes ‘swing in’ precariously on a hidden rack, and discarded costumes are flung indifferently over a flat. Five unnecessary mannequins representing the ‘perp’s’ previous victims hovering throughout the second act when the shadowy voices describing their plight would have been sufficiently effective.

Continuity and pace will improve over the run; the cast will become more confident in their portrayals. And Sarah Maguire will continue to add Susie Salmon’s story to the stories that Grace Tame, Brittany Higgins and others are telling so intrepidly:

“Because horror on Earth is real and it is every day. It is like a flower or the sun; it cannot be contained. Susie: The Lovely Bones.”

First published in Stage Whispers magazine

By William Shakespeare. Sydney Theatre Company. Directed by Kip Williams. Wharf 1. November 15 – December 23, 2021

Reviewed : 19 November, 2021

Kip Williams is making the sort of theatre that embraces all the creative possibilities of  twenty-first century technologies and talent. In this Julius Caesar he brings together video, smart phone technology, split second mixing, inventive sound composition and innovative lighting design – and three highly intelligent and experienced actors – in a production that challenges and inspires. That it does so on a very innovative interpretation of ancient Greek theatre-in-the-round is a wry tribute to the long history of theatre.

Williams cleverly adapts the five acts of  Shakespeare’s 17^th century description of a 44^th  BCE century coup against the tyranny of political ambition into to 21^st century encapsulation of “the psychology of our time”.  “I was shocked again and again,” he writes, “by the echoes and reflections in this work of an ongoing cycle of power struggle across history.” So shocked, it seems, that he sought, successfully, to weave more recent examples of “those who seek to assert their own self-interested will upon the masses” into his production. He juxtaposes past and present with a cynicism – and humour – that questions the rhetoric and distrust that has been fostered by the same technology that he uses so successfully in this production.

Shakespeare told of Caesar’s assassination in powerful words and strong, memorable characters. Williams’ production honours both – but adds a pace, pressure and passion that is demanding of his cast, his crew – and his audience. It is compelling, breath-taking, cynical – and extraordinary in its ingenious combination of styles and techniques.

Geraldine Hakewell, Ewen Leslie and Zahra Newman become the two opposing ‘powers’ at play in Rome on the Ides of March in 44 BCE. Skilfully they introduce their characters, changing smoothly but quite explicitly from one to the other – a different stance, the simple rearrangement of a jacket, the  replacement of a laurel wreath – establishing rank, loyalty and influence whilst pacing across a raised, square stage or following each other around its wide base.

As if this isn’t enough, as they foment the turmoil of rising unrest, they skilfully film each other on smart phones – manipulating the camera to capture close-up expressions of righteous anger or manipulative ambition … or fear. These clear, formidable images appear simultaneously on four screens that form a huge, white, baseless, square prism that hovers above the stage at times, or is lowered slowly onto the stage at others. Filmed and present time sequences merge with on-stage action in an astounding wrap-around multidiscipline theatrical experience.

There is no leeway for error in a production that relies so much on the interdependence of actors and technology. It requires meticulous planning, insightful direction and rigorous rehearsal. The final product depends on focused concentration, expeditious timing and complete trust.

On stage, Newman, Leslie and Hakewell illustrate all of this. They are focused, working together with incredible synergy. They imbue the beauty of the language with expressive scorn or persuasion or distrust. The characters they portray bring ancient history and today together in scenes that are intimately close and bloodily blunt.

Newman is a forceful, confident presence. She moves with smooth assurance between her characters, but it is as Brutus that she impresses most. The sinuous changes that move her Brutus from loyal friend to murderous foe are carefully manipulated and convincingly portrayed, especially in smart phone close ups where her eyes and voice are tauntingly expressive.

Leslie moves between Caesar and Cassius with studied alacrity – self-possessed as the former, cringeingly corrosive as the latter. Leslie is a consummate performer, whose comic timing is highlighted in a “zoom” meeting as Octavius – and a viciously telling social media clip later in the production.

It is through Mark Anthony that Williams merges past and present – and Geraldine Hakewell savours the metamorphosis that his extension of this character affords. Shakespeare’s satirical words drip tauntingly from her tongue as she addresses Rome over Caesar’s body – then become more provocatively mocking as they mutate into more recent examples of political rhetoric. Williams uses the full force of stage and screen theatricality to make his point in this scene – and Hakewell relishes that power.

There is much more to reflect on in this production. It is vibrant, innovative, contemporary. It brings together creatives that work across the arts and technology that inspires new ideas and possibilities. It also brings together the politics of ancient Rome, the lasting words of a 17^th century playwright and the imagination and talent of contemporary theatre creatives. Could an audience require more than that?

First published in Stage Whispers magazine

By Campion Decent. Lambert House Enterprises. Directed by Les Solomon and Campion Decent. Fringe HQ Newtown. November 10-20, 2021

Reviewed : 11 November, 2021

It is an opportune time for a revival of this historically significant play by Campion Decent. First staged in the 1990s, Three Winters Green pays homage to the deadly and lasting effects of the AIDS pandemic. It is thus a very timely reminder that COVID is not the only pandemic that has stalked and devastated the world in recent times.

It is also timely that this production coincides with both the opening of the monument to victims and survivors of LGBTQIA hate crime – AND the much belated NSW government inquiry into the gay and transgender attacks and murders that were rife – but officially ‘ignored’ – in the last decades of the twentieth century.

Les Solomon certainly chose the right time to a reproduce a play that documents a sadly significant time in our history.

On the open, Fringe HQ stage, a five-metre-high AIDS red ribbon of remembrance constructed by Steve Wimmer is the starkly symbolic set. It hovers as a constant aide-memoire as Decent, Solomon and their loyal, lockdown cast bring the characters of  Three Winters Green back to life.

Central to the story is Francis and his struggle to be true to his sexuality despite the world around him. He is open, gentle, confident, persistent – yet consistently censured and condemned. It is a big role that takes Francis from school to the stage, from optimism to despair, from love to illness. It is a role that Sebbie Thornton Walker plays with tightly controlled inner strength and energy – and unrelenting belief. She contains the character, exposing all its pain and sensitivity, yet rejoicing in its positivity, joy and trust. Her Francis is expressive, compassionate, empathetic … and harrowingly real.

Samuel Welsh is Joseph, the teacher to whom Francis reaches out with recognition. The teacher who can’t help but be encouraging, but who also hurts by rejecting. Welsh shows Joseph’s difficult inner struggle, wavering between attraction and fear, temptation, and self-preservation.

Tom Kelly doubles as two very different characters. As ocker-ish, blusteringly macho Mick, he is larger than life, sprawling untidily, unwarily invading personal spaces and constantly punctuating conversations with a stunned “bugger me”. By contrast, he plays troubled, gay Martin with gentle grace, treading his difficult path with lighter steps, calm composure and touching acceptance.

Andrew, in whom Francis eventually finds a few short years of happiness, is played by Ben Jackson. Jackson, too, treads the stage lightly, poignantly underplaying the role to achieve credible sincerity and compassion.

Maddison Silva plays Martin’s lesbian sister, Beck. Julia Muncs is her partner, Jen. Confident in their sexuality their relationship provides a juxtaposition that Martin – and Francis – are not able to enjoy.

Norah George, as Martin and Beck’s mother, Maxine is the token parent. Bewildered and cross because neither of her children are ‘straight’, she moves from denial to reluctant acceptance and alcoholism and prayer to a God that cannot save her son from a disease that kills so hideously.

Together these actors reignite a time that should not be forgotten. Under the sensitive  direction of Decent and Solomon, they bring to life characters and situations that are gut-wrenchingly sad and historically real yet are presented in a way that is as tender as the way the cast opened the AIDS Memorial Quilt in the last moments of the play.

They remind us that this is not the first time we have gingerly ventured out of the shadows of a diseased world, and that we should take care – “But for fuck’s sake … smile”. (Francis –  Three Winters Green).

Photos : David Hooley

Also published in State Whispers magazine.

Mozart and Bach at Play. Endangered Productions. Barnet Long Room, Customs House. 18 – 20 June, 2021

Reviewed : 20 June, 2021

As its title suggests, this production is about fun as well as music. Producers Christine Logan and Peter Alexander have translated and adapted two short comic operas by Mozart and Bach to present a program that reveres the music of the two maestros as well as highlighting their delightful takes on  romance and relationships.

Bastien and Bastienna is Mozart’s short parody of the opera Le devin du village by Jean-Jacques Rousseau. When Bastienne thinks that Bastien has left her for another woman she seeks advice from Colas, a soothsayer, who suggests that playing hard-to-get will win him back. Logan and Alexander have cleverly reset the scene in the 1950s and made Colas a Freudian psychiatrist, adding a satirical touch that is wryly effective.

Bach’s Coffee Cantata, written in the 1730s, is about a father’s concern for his daughter’s interest in the new social scene, especially the coffee houses. In this 2021 interpretation of the mini comic opera, it is “espresso martinis” that are the father’s concern. The translators add another nice little satirical ‘twist’ by matchmaking the daughter and the bartender, thus allaying the father’s anxiety!

The Barnet Long Room at Customs House and cabaret style seating provided just the right ambience for a production such as this – intimate, good acoustics, warm and friendly. Designer Sandy Gray used minimal props and colourful overhead projections to create her sets, including a ‘Freudian’ couch for Bastien and Bastienna and a bar complete with a TV tuned to a sport channel for Coffee Cantata!  The carefully chosen costumes added colour and verisimilitude to each setting, especially the steam punk outfit designed by Miriam Lohmann for Lisa, the daughter, in Coffee Cantata.

But what of the performers! Apart from Karen Lambert, who graces the stage very seductively at the beginning of Bastien and Bastienna as Bastien’s temptress, the three characters in each piece are performed by Lesley Braithwaite, Damien Hall and Ed Shuttle. They are accompanied by Stevie Walter (keyboard), Rebecca Irwin and Jennifer Taylor (violins), Greg Ford (viola), Pierre Emery (cello) and Isabeau Hanson (flute) conducted by musical director Peter Alexander.

Braithwaite, Hall and Shuttle bring a wealth of experience to their performances. In pieces such as these, the ability to act as well as sing is essential – as is being able to inject comedy in just the right way at just the right moment. It requires dedicated rehearsal based on insightful direction – and Christine Logan’s direction is deft and wise. She allows her cast to inject melodramatic comedy – a fluttering eyelash, a suggestive wink, raised eyebrows, a little celebratory dance move – as well as ensuring they sustain the depth and variety of the music and the veracity of the characters. It’s a lot to put together and Logan and her cast have done so very effectively.

There are some very funny moments – Shuttle’s nonchalant depiction of Colas, Braithwaite and Hall’s little ‘jive’ at the end Bastien and Bastienna; Shuttle’s studying of the Form Guide as Lisa has yet another cocktail; Braithwaite showing the ‘tiddly’ effect of those cocktails as she takes a selfie; Hall shaking cocktails in time to the music. And it will be hard to forget  Braithwaite relishing her delivery of a very  contemporary teenage “whatever” in response to her father’s threats.

The small orchestra had some lovely moments as well. Mozart’s little overture to Bastien and Bastienna introduced the production beautifully, and the piano, cello and flute had special moments in Coffee Cantata.

Endangered Productions aims to give “professionals, enthusiastic amateurs and keen community members” opportunities to keep being involved in the “inclusive, creative world of theatre” and to use the skills of those with long experience to mentor and educate others. The integrity, attention to detail and enthusiasm which they have approached in this production certainly suggests they can achieve that goal.

Also published in Stage Whispers magazine.

The Bach Akademie Australia playing Johann Sebastian Bach. June 18,  2021 at St James Church Sydney.

Reviewed : 18 June, 2021

How fitting to bring together work composed by Johann Sebastian Bach in the 1720s and Francis Greenway’s stately St James Church King Street, consecrated one hundred years later. In that revered building – the oldest existing in inner Sydney – Bach’s much-loved Obbligato Sonatas thrilled a large and appreciative audience.

The Bach Akademie Australia led by internationally acclaimed Australian violinist Madeleine Easton, with Neal Peres Da Costa at the Harpsicord and Anton Baba playing the Viola da gamba and Cello, graced the Sydney landmark with a stunning performance of five of these famous sonatas.

In her program notes, Easton describes them as “a true master-class in tri-part contrapuntal writing”. Each sonata, she explains, “displays a different personality, colour and mood with its own unique harmonic characteristics” that take the listener  “through every conceivable mood and emotion from extreme joy to contemplative emotion”.

Easton’s description only hints at the range of emotions evoked in this beautifully executed performance of Bach’s remarkable compositions. All three musicians are masters of their instruments. In their hands the varying rhythms and textures specific to each instrument came together in performance that only musicians so completely in harmony with each other can achieve.

With the gold mosaic tiles of the semi-dome shining above them, they captured the real lyricism of Bach’s motivic work in a performance that brought warmth and hope from Bach’s eighteenth-century world to a cold, virus-threatened winter night in 2021.

Each instrument shines in these sonatas, the mellow cello and historic viola da gamba, the distinctive baroque registers of the harpsicord, and the elegant, clear voice of Easton’s 1682 Giovanni Grancino violin combine to emphasise the enduring passion of these compositions.

Together they evoke the patient calm of the sonata in B minor, the happiness and bright repetitive motifs of the sonata in A major; the “noisy sharp joy” difficulty of the sonata in E major; the range of emotions in the fifth sonata in F minor – the mournful melancholy of the Largo to the lighter, more hopeful motifs of the Vivace.

The concert concludes with the “rustic, idyllic” sixth sonata in G major. Here Bach inserted a solo Allegro for the harpsicord. This short, sweet solo piece gives Peres Da Costa the opportunity to highlight the versatility of the harpsicord – before the light, airy, celebratory moments of the final Adagio and Allegro.

The flourish of those finishing notes reflects the concentrated musicianship of these three fine performers – and their deep, intuitive empathy with the texture and emotion of music composed by Bach nearly three hundred years ago.

This performance was recorded – and may be available for streaming.

Also published by Stage Whispers magazine

By Bess Wohl. Sydney Theatre Company. Director: Jessica Arthur. Roslyn Packer Theatre,  June 11 – July 3, 2021.

Reviewed : 11 June, 2021

Winter may be the time to ‘hunker down’ but it’s also the time we need a bit of cheer, and Sydney Theatre Company brings that cheer in this production. Though set in contemporary America, the play has universal appeal, requiring very little modification to change it to an Australian setting. After all, Grand Horizons could be any retirement village in any relatively wealthy first world city – and Nancy and Bill French could be any retired couple. Perhaps.

All seems calm in the French home. Probably too calm, the first scene suggests – and director Jessica Arthur’s cunning blocking of that first scene is one of the things I shan’t give away. That there is more than one surprise is indicative of playwright Bess Wohl’s distinctive ability to twist her plot and manipulate her characters, and Arthur’s distinctive ability to manage the comedy – and the underlying angst – that results from those twists and manipulations. This production has laugh-out-loud moments, in some of which the cast, very professionally, wait out the laughter. In one of those moments the laughter could ruin the punch line of a very suggestive joke … if the joke were not being told by such an accomplished actor.

In fact, two accomplished actors lead the cast in this very tight, pace and pause dependent production. Linda Cropper and John Bell play the ‘oldies’ of the French family. Both Nancy and Bill appear to be happy, quiet, competent, restrained, until Nancy announces that she wants a divorce. And despite belittling her determination, Bill doesn’t argue against the idea.

The effect on their two sons, however, is very different.

Suddenly their down-sized Grand Horizons apartment is inundated by Ben (Johnny Nasser), and his younger brother Bryan (Guy Simon). The idea of a divorce, in their loudly voiced opinions, is ridiculous, unthinkable. Ben’s pregnant wife, Jess (Zindzi Okenyo), is a little more open-minded, but her attempts to use her counselling skills do little to diffuse the tumult.

Nancy stays quietly determined and Bill starts to pack.

Their sons become more louder, more insistent – and as they rant at their parents much more of each character is revealed. Ben, a lawyer has a tricky court case. Brian, a drama teacher, explains in explicitly paused detail how he intends to involve two hundred students in a production of The Crucible.

Bill is doing a course on stand-up comedy and has become over friendly with a fellow student called Carla (Vanessa Downing). Nancy, though slightly bewildered by the acrimony that has resulted from her decision, goes off collecting clothes for charity. Jess tells Ben she is sick of him calling her ‘Babe’. Brian brings home someone he has picked up at a local bar. It’s not every family – but it could be many.

This is all revealed in skilfully written dialogue that gives Arthur and her cast wonderful opportunities for comic timing – and extended pauses. Cropper and Bell use both masterfully, creating some very funny moments, as well as some that are a little more touching. They find the gentle pathos and fear of the future that Wohl has incorporated into the characters, as well as the comedy.

Nasser, Okenyo and Simon find similar comic moments as their characters break the seeming ‘peace’ of retirement that Nancy is determined to escape. They sustain the pace of their first scene, and pepper it with the malice of old resentments.

Vanessa Downing as Bill’s friend Carla is a little silly, a little vague, and totally loveable. Wohl allows her such a short time on the stage, but Downing uses every moment effectively. As does, James Majoos in another short but memorable scene that Majoos handles with instinctive timing and beguiling cheekiness.

There is much fun on the surface of this production – but Arthur has ensured that Wohl’s underlying messages about age and marriage and family pressures tinge the laughter with a touch of melancholy.

First published in Stage Whispers magazine.

Book, music & lyrics by Irene Sankoff and David Hein. Director: Christopher Ashley. Musical Director: Luke Hunter. Musical Staging: Kelly Devine. Junkyard Productions & Rodney Rigby Production. Capitol Theatre, Sydney. Opening Night – June 10, 2021

Reviewed : June 10, 2021

How hard it is to write about this wonderful production after so much has been said and written already – and everything you’ve heard or read is right! It is warm and poignant. It is fast and funny. It is both celebratory and commemorative. It is, indeed, what good verbatim theatre should be – real stories sensitively translated into a theatrical form that reminds us of the truths that need to be documented about humanity … at its worst, and its very best.

The production celebrates the wonderfully warm-hearted reaction of the people of Gander, Newfoundland, who took in so many unexpected and confused travellers re-routed to Gander because of the horrific attacks on New York and Washington on 11^th September 2001. It is, therefore, also an effectively haunting reminder of that event and its lasting consequences. And it does so in the way humankind has used so effectively for thousands of years: storytelling.

Irene Sankoff and David Hein have used the 1600 stories they gathered from the people involved to weave an intricate re-telling of the way the residents of a little town reacted to the arrival of 7000 people from different parts of the world. People who were frightened, perplexed, traumatised. People who needed food, shelter, warm clothes … and toothbrushes.

It recounts the initial disbelief at the magnitude of the task that confronted them – and the incredible ways they surmounted every seeming impossibility.

Come From Away is a story about the wonderful humanity of man – but it doesn’t shirk its fallibility. It is remarkably honest in its re-telling of the stories and the people who told them. It is even more remarkable that Sankoff and Hein were able to use music and dance to enhance the re-telling with tempos that evoked the disparate emotions that interleave every carefully recaptured experience. That they chose the instruments that pay homage to the early settlers who made Newfoundland their home – the  mandolin, whistles, Irish flute, uilleann pipes, fiddle, bodhran drum – meant they were able to incorporate a wide range of rhythms and emotions, from the foot-tapping introduction to the folk from Gander in “Welcome to the Rock”, to the tender distress of “I am Here”, where a displaced mother cries out to her fire fighter son, lost somewhere in the dust and debris of New York.

There are so many other ways this skilled pair of writers have encapsulated the chaos of those few days. The use of only twelve performers to depict both townspeople and travellers was a significant decision. The different characters each one plays are remarkably clear. The carefully choreographed and rehearsed changeover of characters also gives the impression of the pace and turmoil of the situation.

The minimalist set – a revolve, chairs and some tables – means that the cast can be sitting in a plane at one moment, arguing around a table in the mayor’s office at the next, or dancing on an almost empty stage at another. Not one story is hampered by anything that obstructs the characters or each nuance of the continuing story, even though that nuance may, at first, be a little hard to pick up due to the unusual Newfoundland accent – and the accents of some of the travellers.

That attention to detail is an important part of this production – and any piece of verbatim theatre. It is a record of an important event. In this case, an event that, because of an attack that happened somewhere else, two groups of very different people were thrown together and something wonderful occurred. It was up to Sankoff and Hein to make this into a theatrical experience without losing the cathartic effect of the story. Staying true to accents and the cultures of the people involved was one way. Incorporating their music, religions and backgrounds was another. Finding a director who could ensure those truths is yet one more – and essential. Christopher Ashley is such a director.

Ashley ensured that every one of the twelve talented performers – and each of the seven standby cast – in this production is true to every character they portray. Whether playing a baffled passenger or harried townsperson, there is truth and strength in every portrayal – and they radiate a great sense of unity and harmony. To pull this show off the cast must be  incredibly talented, organised, energetic and dedicated – and the director must be able to envision the compelling complexities that Sankoff and Hein have instilled into their writing. Ashley and this wonderful cast do just that.

First published in Stage Whispers magazine.

By Joshua Harmon. New Theatre,  Newtown. Director: Hayden Tonazzi. June 1- 26, 2021

Reviewed : 2 June, 2021

What a coup for the New to have snapped up the Australian premiere of Significant Other – a beautifully written play that takes a different, deeper look at the complex relationship between gay men and the women who love them … and what happens when those friendships change. When any friendship changes for that matter … and someone feels left out.

Playwright Joshua Harmon explained, “I think the best way to express a universal experience is to root it in a very specific situation. Jordan is a very specific character and part of that is being gay, but what’s universal is that he feels lonely and wants to be in love.”

“You’ll have a husband, children … I won’t even come close. And I shouldn’t. I wouldn’t want to. It’s just …your wedding is my funeral.”

That’s the universal message of this happy/sad expertly crafted play that brings realism onto a starker, more immediate, exposed stage, where characters are clear, open, and instantly authentic. It’s a stage where director Hayden Tonazzi and set designer Hamish Elliott feel very comfortable. A contemporary stage that talks straight; where the characters identify themselves clearly. A stage they have embraced in a production that is, in so many ways, really stunning.

Elliott’s set fixes the play in its time. Coloured, translucent panels framed in black with multiple entries that at times are edged with lights. It’s modern, bright, and practical. It’s set on levels that allow for creative blocking and Morgan Moroney’s innovative lighting effects. Costume designer Kate Beere extends the use of colour in contrasting tones, fabrics and textures. Design wise, this production is clever, upbeat, and totally professional. As is the direction and the acting.

Tonazzi matches Harmon’s writing with sharp, intelligent direction. The characters don’t need lengthy exposition. They hit the stage, instantly identifiable, if a little drunk, at a bachelorette party. Four of them draped over a step, in the middle of boozy, happy reminiscences. Thy speak over each over, lean into each other, every action totally natural and totally believable. And that authenticity is sustained solidly through the ninety minutes of the production.

Tonazzi has assembled a strong cast with whom he has worked carefully to establish their characters and the changing timbre of their relationships – so much so that the rhythm of their dialogue adjusts imperceptively in line with subtle changes in emotion and tension. Joshua Harmon provided the characters and their words. Tonazzi and his five actors give them dimension and truth.

Tom Rogers is Jordan. He inhabits Jordan, feels his highs, covers his lows, but allows the audience to understand every nuance of his complex emotions. There is sustained energy in his performance, a sort of physical restraint that hovers just below the person his friends love and depend on yet is so strong that the audience ‘gets’ him, understands his growing anxieties, feels his fear of being left alone. The Jordan Rogers portrays is loveable, vulnerable, real – especially in the scenes with Helene, his grandmother, played with gentle charm by Helen Tonkin.

These few scenes are very personal, and Tonazzi has set them in a small corner of the set. An easy chair slides into the space. A panel slides open to reveal a shelf and a lamp shedding mellow light on a photograph. Helene enters with Jordan who settles her in the chair, and they talk about the memories the photo stirs, about how Helene is feeling about getting old – about being alone. In those brief moments Rogers and Tonkin establish a plausible closeness that blends perceptive writing, sensitive direction and delicate characterisation. Harmon wrote of these characters:

“This single gay man and this widowed older woman; both go to sleep alone and wake up alone … They almost don’t have the words to connect what they’re sharing.”

Jordan’s three friends are very different personalities, and Harmon’s dialogue guides both director and actors to create characters who are vibrant, energetic and understanding. Jordan has been part of their lives forever – they accept him, rely on him, but can’t see his special fears.

Kiki, played by Isabella Williams is self-absorbed, a bit kooky, a little over-the-top about everything and Williams finds just the right amount of zaniness to make her cute and a little annoying. She is the first to marry – and the bridesmaids’ dresses Beere finds for her wedding are exactly what Kiki would have chosen!

Vanessa, played by Dominque Purdue, is the next to marry. Purdue finds the more restrained, analytical qualities of Vanessa and this is reflected in her relationship with Jordan. She shares her doubts and reservations. He respects, understands and is always encouraging – even though he identifies with them.

Between Jordan and Laura, played by Laura McInnes, there is a stronger, different bond. McInnes establishes that bond from the very first scene, showing Laura’s special understanding of Jordan in gentle touches, supportive hugs, watchful awareness. They are as close as friends can be, so much so that Laura’s wedding affects Jordan more deeply than he – or she – expects. Tonazzi’s perceptive direction of their final scene together makes it especially moving.

Despite the deep messages in this play, it is quite funny. Rogers underplays those quirky moments expressively– as does Matthew McDonald, who plays the five other male roles, including all three husbands, the other gay guy in the office, and the ‘hunk’ Jordan stalks at the swimming pool. McDonald obviously relishes the challenge of making each character different, appealing, just a little funny and a light contrast to the seriousness that develops as Jordan’s anxiety increases.

Playwrights must find it hard to let a play like this go. When asked about this Joshua Harmon said in an interview:

“Once a play is out in the world, I have to rely on the stage directions in the script and trust that they’ll be handled faithfully.”

No one could have handled this play more faithfully than Tonazzi and his cast and crew. It is a tribute to Harmon – and to a director who looks beyond the words to find the essence of their meaning. The last few moments of the production, where the light lingers on Jordan’s troubled face after he has sung for the bridal waltz at yet another of his friends’ wedding,  typifies how Tonazzi, with his creative crew and dedicated cast, have faithfully found that ‘essence’.

Congratulations to the New for finding this gem and Tonazzi for distilling that essence.

Life is simple. You need to find someone to go through it with.

First published in Stage Whispers magazine.

By Jennifer Kokai and Oliver Kokai-Means. Riverside’s National Theatre of Parramatta. Riverside Theatres Parramatta. Director: Warwick Doddrell. May 29 – June 5, 2021

Reviewed : May 29, 2021

Surveys tell us that more and more kids suffer from anxiety – and that the pandemic and its associated problems haven’t helped. When co-writer Oliver Kokai-Means was 9 he suffered so badly from anxiety that he couldn’t go to school. No one, including his teachers, understood how sad and alone he felt. He, and his playwright mother, Jennifer Kokai, decided to write a play to try and help people understand what it feels like to be so anxious when you are young – and to suggest some ways to cope with that feeling.

From this came Zombie Thoughts – an inter-active choose-your-own adventure based on popular video games and featuring anxiety-ridden Sam and his caring friend Pig. They are led through the game by the audience, who decide which actors will play each character, the hats they will wear, and which of Sam’s demons they will face.

First performed in Salt Lake City, Utah, in 2018 when Oliver was 11, the play has had amazing success across America, with productions in Chicago, Washington DC, Maryland, Florida and Honolulu. A touring production in 2018 played at 50 elementary schools. In 2020, when the pandemic closed theatres, the Montana Rep Company liaised to produce a digital version with which kids can interact, just as they do in the stage version.

The play obviously strikes the right chord for kids, adults … and educators.

Firstly, it isn’t patronising.

Secondly, it doesn’t ‘water down’ just how debilitating anxiety can be. In fact, it goes pretty deeply into the frightening things kids imagine, often far more real than ‘tigers under the bed’.

Thirdly, it’s a game! The audience is ‘the player’ with the power. They decide which actors will play Sam and Pig, and which hats they will wear (all of pig’s hats have little pink ears!). It is they who guide Sam and Pig through the game and the scary levels based on Sam’s fears – like ghost houses, dark caves, deep abysses, vampire bats, zombies … or something happening his parents.

In this version of the play, the Machine is a real Narrator rather than just a voice behind a screen. This means the game seems more personal, and that the audience can feel even more involved, especially when someone like Monica Sayers is playing the part. Sayers is vibrant, commanding, expressive – and funny. She whips around the glitzy Minecraft stage, working the audience, demanding they make quick decisions that take them up the levels of Sam’s anxiety. She makes the ghostly noises in the haunted house, manipulates vampire bats on bendy poles, becomes the Shark or the Wolf (whichever the audience has chosen) in a scary mask, and the disembodied voice of ‘Mum’ who won’t come when Sam calls. Sayers pushes the pressure and urgency of the game, making it … real?

Sam or Pig are played by Jose Talite or Emma O’Sullivan, who has come late to this production following Annie Stafford’s reluctant need to give up the role. At the beginning of the game the audience decides which will be intelligent, anxious Sam, or goofy, calm, pun-loving Pig. Like the kids they portray, they must be fit and flexible. They are, after all, the avatars in a fast video game. They jump up and down the levels of the sparkly Minecraft set, as they are attacked by bats, a wolf (or a shark). They cringe away from zombie arms that reach out to grab them or the huge skull that dictates from the screen behind them. They are funny at times, breaking the tension that builds from Sam’s anxiety, but sustain the fear that bubbles constantly. Both find their ‘inner kid’ in very lively, physical performances.

The play is about Sam’s anxiety and it never detracts from the seriousness of the condition nor the difficulty of overcoming it. It makes some suggestions, including breathing slowly, “in through the nose, out through the mouth” … and Sam’s own insightful words: “I am the boss of my brain. It is not the boss of me”.

We all have fears. We all deal with them differently. Zombie Thoughts lets children know that they are not alone – that others understand, that there is a way out of the “abyss”.

Also published in Stage Whispers magazine