REVIEW! Hitler’s Tasters by Michelle Kholos Brooks @ The Edinburgh Fringe Festival

Directed by Sarah Norris
Presented by New Light Theater Project
Greenside (Infirmary Street)

2nd – 24th August

Mary Katherine Kopp, Kaitlin Paige Longoria, and Hallie Griffin in Hitler’s Tasters. Image courtesy of Hunter Canning

Here’s the thing: for undergrad, I did a triple major in History, German Language & Culture, and Theatre Studies. Has this combination ever really come in useful? Until now, no, but when I saw the description of this show, I thought my moment had finally come. As it turned out, you don’t really need to know that much about German or History to understand Hitler’s Tasters. This disappointed me a little (as well, I suspect, as the American lady in the queue in front of me who promised her son that this would be an historically educational experience), but even if there wasn’t too much there to stimulate my German/History nerdery, it was still an engaging and technically interesting piece of theatre.

A new play by American playwright Michelle Kholos Brooks, Hitler’s Tasters follows the story of four girls – Hilda, Margot, Anna, and Liesel – who were conscripted to serve their country as tasters for the Fuehrer. It is true that there were a number of such women during WWII who were selected for this role of sampling all Hitler’s meals before he touched them, to check that the food was safe from poison, and one of them (the only survivor) was called Margot; but that’s about as far as the historical accuracy of this play stretches. Everything else is highly stylised invention, dressed in a superficial understanding of German history and culture.

This lack of historical accuracy, however, is something embraced by the play, which is more focused on exploring a thematic concept. To this end, it merges a historical setting with very modern elements, to create a strangely effective atmosphere of timelessness. The girls snap selfies on their phones and then gossip about the attractiveness of Clark Gable; they dance frenetically to electronic pop, then fret over how Aryan they are, and how marriageable. They spend interminably slow hours locked in a room, waiting for symptoms of poison to manifest, and they fill this time with exactly what you’d expect of teenaged girls from any era. They snipe, gossip, play Truth or Dare, braid each other’s hair, swap confessions and fears, philosophise about life and death, and descend into giggling fits of ecstasy over male celebrities. There are power plays, spiteful insults, and betrayals… as well as declarations of sisterhood and support. Each girl is given a distinctive personality, which the talented actors fine-tune and portray with skill. There is an interesting interplay between stereotypical teenaged girl cattiness and the undercurrents of very real  social danger – the knowledge hanging in the air that if one of these girls were to turn on another and report her for social non-conformity, the consequences would be much more serious than the normal high school ostracism.

Image courtesy of Hunter Canning

At first I found it a very distracting stylistic choice to have all the girls speak in heavy American accents, with heightened “valley girl” vocal inflections. I reasoned that it was probably to help the audience draw parallels with modern pop culture texts such as Mean Girls, and the image of the millennial teenaged girl which is distilled in its most concentrated and exaggerated form in American media. Upon realising that it was an entirely American production, with American actors and having toured in America, I now wonder if this was simply intended to be a functionally invisible accent choice, as Southern English accents probably would be if it were a British production. If so, that’s an interesting side effect of having taken the play trans-Atlantic, and not necessarily a negative one. I would, however, advise that the director and cast should do a quick bit of research into the pronunciation of those occasional German words sprinkled throughout – mainly for “father” and “mother” – as they sounded quite ridiculous spoken in American.

A stylistic choice that I did really enjoy was the abstract nature of the framing scenes; these were used to represent the actual meal tasting, which was presented as highly ritualised, with slickly choreographed physical movement and unsettling sound and lighting effects (kudos here to choreographer Ashlee Wasmund and production manager Christina Tang). Overall, the production values of this show were excellent, maintaining a consistent high quality throughout, from usage of the stage space through to the costume design. Sarah Norris is to be congratulated on her tight direction and evocative interpretation of the text. It is particularly relevant to us today to be reminded that fascism and far-right brainwashing can happen so insidiously that the end results just look like normal people; these young girls are both victim and complicit, and remain emphatically human throughout.

Kaitlin Paige Longoria and Hallie Griffin in Hitler’s Tasters. Image courtesy of Hunter Canning

Overall, I do realise that my gripes with Hitler’s Tasters are very subjective, and largely due to expectations of historical interest which the show never actually promised me. In the end, I’m sure the young boy in front of me in the line learned some snippets of history – even if it was just that Hitler was a vegetarian and loved his dog, that teaches the important lesson that evil doesn’t always seem it. Even though I think there was a missed opportunity for more historical, political, and social complexity within the text, this play still demonstrates the importance of empathy and trust, independent thinking, and bravery.

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Previous review: Knot by Nikki & JD @ The Edinburgh Fringe Festival

REVIEW! Manual Cinema’s Frankenstein @ Edinburgh Fringe Festival

Presented by Underbelly and Manual Cinema
McEwan Hall, Bristo Square
31st July – 26th August 2019

I went into Manual Cinema’s Frankenstein having, as usual, done no prior research and with nothing but a vague preconception that as the description had included “shadow puppets” it’d probably be something quite small – cute and dinky. Upon entering the McEwan Hall, I instantly realised I was way off base. The domed hall is used for University of Edinburgh graduations, is decorated in Italian Renaissance style, and is huge (especially in comparison to most Fringe venues). The raked seating commanded a good view of the stage, cluttered with all sorts of technical paraphernalia, some of it quite weird and wonderful – very appropriate, given the story it would be used to tell. There were two large screens, one facing the audience and one perpendicular to us, a row of old-school overhead projectors, a camera, a number of musical instruments, and various seemingly random props. Then the house lights went down, and the show began.

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Photo by Michael Brosilow

It is so difficult to describe the breathtaking creative genius of this show, the mixture of art and technology, magic and science. Manual cinema really does seem the best description for it – we watched a film projected onto a big screen, while simultaneously watching it being created live on stage in front of us. It felt like watching a master pianist play the most exquisite symphony on a transparent piano, with all the inner workings laid bare. The end product, the film shown on the big screen, was elegantly beautiful in itself, but watching the cogs of the machine work with such perfect precision and ingenuity transformed the experience into something truly awe-inspiring.

The work takes the form of a story-within-a-story; we are first introduced to Mary Wollstonecroft Shelley, a novelist, pregnant and struggling to find artistic inspiration. Her husband, Percy, is a poet who loves his wife but unwittingly creates distance between them due to his devotion to his art. When Mary delivers her baby (“Clara”), she is overwhelmed with wonder at it as well as nervousness at the prospect of motherhood. When the baby dies unexpectedly in the night, it wounds her deeply, and creates a morbid preoccupation with death, the creation of life, and the deep bond between parent and child. Months later, on holiday in Geneva with her husband and Lord Byron, Mary enters into a competition with them to write a ghost story – and a nightmarish vision of her baby, reanimated in a flash of lightning, gives birth to the story which is said to have been the fore-runner to all sci-fi and gothic horror.

Photo by Michael Brosilow

I should note here: all of this is told without any dialogue, in black and white, with only silhouettic figures, using a bewitching blend of paper shadow puppetry and live actors, with soundscapes and backing music created onstage by live musicians. It is, frankly, exquisite. But as we now move into the secondary story – that of Frankenstein itself – another element is added into the mix: our actors (all women) move to the other side of the projection screen, and begin lending their faces as well as their silhouettes to the artwork in front of us. Mary undergoes a quick costume change to become her creation, Victor Frankenstein, and we step into his story. Eventually, a tertiary storyline and art style emerges, following the perspective of Frankenstein’s monster himself, brought to life as a physical puppet. The three storylines intertwine with incredible poignancy, drama, and just the right amount of gruesomeness.

Manual Cinema has taken some liberties with both history (Shelley wrote Frankenstein before her marriage to Percy, and Clara was her third child, not the first one who died in the night) and the tale of Frankenstein, but I doubt this will bother avid Frankenstein fans given how achingly true it is to the messages and sentiment of the original novel. The lack of dialogue, the old-fashioned silent movie stylings, the mechanical genius, the emotional depth, the melodramatic rendering, and the underlying mysticism make this quite possibly the best interpretation of the classic text ever to have been made (yep, I just said that). If you are at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival this year, you simply must see it (ignore the silly corniness of the posters, they’re a bad representation of this beautiful piece of art). In this production, Manual Cinema has brought life to a truly miraculous creation.

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Manual Cinema’s ‘Frankenstein’ Official Edinburgh 2019 Trailer from Manual Cinema on Vimeo.

Previous review: Mating in Captivity @ The King’s Head Theatre

REVIEW! Libertalia by Gary Lockley @ The Golden Hinde

Written and directed by Gary Lockley
Presented by the Golden Hinde
Featuring Nathalia Campbell-Smith, Patrick Strain, DK Ugonna, and David West
Thursday 15th August – 5th September 2019

If you’ve spent much time in London at all, chances are you’ve wandered past The Golden Hinde, a reconstruction of Francis Drake’s sixteenth century galleon, now moored on the South Bank and a popular tourist attraction. Perhaps you’ve even surrendered a fiver to step on board, and viewed the ship’s compartments and faux-historical furnishings. But have you ever taken part in a pirate summit deep in the bowls of the ship, and investigated its cabins and crew to uncover dark secrets and dastardly deeds?

Probably not, but starting this week there will be an opportunity to do just that, as the Hinde will be commandeered out of hours by the immersive theatre show Libertalia. Inspired by Captain Charles Johnson’s “A general history of pyrates”, the TV show Black Sails, and video game Uncharted, this story takes place during the Golden Age of Sail and the height of New World colonialism and mercantilism. Upon boarding the ship, audience members are sorted into four “crews”, each with an allegiance to a different pirate captains. These captains are played by the show’s four actors, each based on a real historical pirate. We have all been summoned here, we are told, by the revered Captain Tew, who wishes to tell us about his plans to found a free pirate colony called Libertalia – but who will lead this colony? And are the sails the only things on this ship that are rigged?

What follows this initial scene-setting induction is two hours of high seas intrigue and scandal, as audience members are encouraged to explore the ship and follow the actors around to witness snippets of dialogue which gradually reveal that something fishy is going on. Is there more than meets the “aye” to these pirate captains?

Libertalia is creator Gary Lockley’s first foray into writing site-specific interactive theatre, and he set the bar high for himself by securing such an impressive and evocative venue. Unfortunately, it’s a difficult genre of performance to master, filled with volatile elements and delicate lines to tread, and despite some excellent moments, it quickly became clear that this piece could have done with guidance from someone more experienced in the field. I (and other audience members, as we discussed abovedecks after the show) often found ourselves searching for depths and details which were simply not there: a diary left unguarded in the captain’s quarters turned out to be disappointingly empty, two audience members told me of how they riffled through an entire trunk of blankets only to find that it was just that, and though our captains gave us the vague directions to mingle with other crews to “find out information”, it quickly became clear that none of us had actually been given any tidbits to guard. In the age of Sleep No More and other rich, multi-layered immersive experiences, this felt somewhat underdeveloped.

That said, there were some wonderful moments of immersion and interaction. Finding a coded message and banding together with rival audience members to decode it – hunched over ragged bits of parchment, scrawling out messages and discovering plot twists together – was excellent, as was singing a sea shanty with these newfound comrades later on. Interacting with the actors was great fun; I especially loved talking to Nathalia Campbell-Smith as Anne Bonny, and hearing about the woes and escapades of this real historical woman (more of this in future, please!). The cast had great chemistry with each other, and all the actors were animated, funny, and commanded attention and interest, as well as being able to improvise well with each other and the audience. Lastly, but most obviously, the ship herself was both stage and star of this show, and the undeniable coolness of pretending to be a pirate in an actual (reproduction) pirate’s ship was more than worth all the bumps to the head.

Without wanting to spoil the story’s ending, I do have to note that it quickly became clear that as the audience, our actions – our subterfuge and investigations and conspiring – had no real impact on the plot. While it’s absolutely possible to have great immersive theatre which provides the illusion of agency but whose story is ultimately pre-determined (the Gatsby immersive experience is a successful example), that illusion is key. Otherwise, all the audience’s efforts begin to feel like meaningless busy-ness, a filler between watching actors perform rehearsed scenes. This was the case in Libertalia, and resulted in a lot of dead time where we ended up making real-life small talk with strangers, or filling our (hour)glasses at the below-decks bar. This could be remedied by including more sub-plots, even if they don’t lead anywhere, deeper world- and character-building, and more active parts and activities for the audience to undertake; again, see Gatsby for examples of all this.

When the final scene played out, it was unsurprising to all of us who had put together the pieces much earlier on in the evening, but nevertheless a fun bit of drama. This was watered down somewhat by a parting monologue which aimed for rousing but landed on emptily didactic, full of vague platitudes about freedom and unity that could equally have been denouncing Brexit or supporting it (and what with the historical setting, and inclusion of a freed slave character as well as colonial privateers, there was so much more potential for meaningful exploration of complex themes). At the journey’s end, I disembarked the ship having had fun, but feeling that Libertalia’s maiden voyage left quite a bit to be desired. Hopefully the show will continue to evolve and adapt, as it could become something truly special.

Could also do with a talking parrot.

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Previous review: Naked People Waking Up @ Etcetera Theatre, Camden Fringe

REVIEW! Lovers Anonymous @ The Space

Presented by Encompass Theatre Collective
9th – 19th July 2019

Open entering the re-purposed church that is The Space Theatre, it really did feel like walking into a meeting of AA, or some other self-help workshop run by professional “love coaches”. The raised stage was being used only as a platform for tea and coffee dispensation, and where pews once stood, plastic chairs were arranged in a ring. Arriving alone (which was a shame, because I feel this experience would absolutely have been enhanced by the presence of a partner), I hesitated in taking a seat, which was how I had my first interaction with “Sandra” and “Mike”, who would be running the workshop under the guise of the (not-so) perfect couple. They greeted me warmly, but with a certain artificial friendliness suggesting that these workshops were more of a money spinner than truly community spirited. I found myself in a seat next to a nice stranger called Helen, and soon enough, the show began.

From the start, Mike and Sandra (Edward Kaye and Becky Gibbs) played a slick role, bouncing plasticky enthusiasm and smiles back and forth as they bantered through an introduction. Their dynamic was an old one – she’s business-like, cool, and bossy, he’s goofy, overly affectionate, and oblivious – but tropes become tropes for a reason, and this fraught relationship provided an opportunity to explore the perks and pitfalls of a long-term relationship.

Rehearsal images for Lovers Anonymous

Though they’d obviously made an effort to be gender- and sexually-neutral in their dating advice,  the whole thing did have a bit of a “women are from Venus, men are from Mars” sort of vibe to it. The male actors / audience plants were almost all either creepy in a funny way, socially inept, comically geeky, or a combination of these, whereas the one woman “audience” actor was more of a quirky MPDG type. These men all had issues treating women like people, and the woman… existed basically to challenge unhealthy attitudes from the men? I don’t remember her having a story of her own, unlike the others.

The one audience actor whose role defied these trends was playing a man who had lost his partner in a tragic accident, moments after having a fight with him. This sudden death was hinted at through a frozen-time flashback at the beginning of the show, but this apparent trauma was left a mystery until near the the end. The effect was a neat bit of ground-laying with effective emotional payoff later, and though again this character’s story and it message were not exactly original, they did provide a certain amount of earnestness sincerity which contrasted nicely with the silliness and melodrama of the rest of the show.

The show blurb promises a wide range of love-related discussion topics: “from sexuality to sex, tinder thrills to online spills, everything is welcome”. Did it deliver? Well, there was a lot of ground covered: there was a very humourous section on online dating, some cringey stories about awkward first dates, a debate on the morality of pornography, an exercise about working through conflict, exploration of the familiarity/banality of sharing a life with someone, and much more. None were explored in much depth, but there were certainly some interesting moments of introspection and examination of societal norms. I think that in 2019, perhaps more types of “non-traditional” relationships could be explored – as it is, the show is mainly quite blandly heterosexual, except for mentions of homo/bisexuality thrown in for shock twist value rather than being examined in any meaningful way.

Rehearsal images for Lovers Anonymous

Likewise, the audience interaction was played very safe, and honestly other than myself and one other audience member, I don’t think anyone really actively participated except the audience plants. It’s difficult in immersive theatre to challenge audience members and draw them into the show as active members without making them uncomfortable, but Lover Anonymous definitely stopped shy of either of those outcomes. This made it a little tame for me, but certainly much more welcoming for theatregoers who are not as used to audience interaction. For future iterations, I would advise some segments where audience members are split into smaller groups (perhaps with one actor planted in each, to guide things along) for activities that allow them to interact with the material and one another without being put on the spot. This would be easy to do without losing the workshop/seminar feeling of the piece, and make it more hands-on. The rhino/porcupine exercise was a good start towards this sort of dynamic – keep heading along that path!

All in all, Lovers Anonymous has the potential to be further developed into a really interesting and fun show: it already has a beautifully playful and welcoming atmosphere to it, some excellent comedic moments, good snippets of physical theatre, and a number of tightly written and executed scenes. With increased audience involvement and a more daring foray into meatier love-related topics, this could become the kind of show that would make anybody swipe right.

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Previous review: Spitfire Sisters @ The Space Theatre

REVIEW! Kill Climate Deniers by David Finnigan @ The Pleasance Islington

Written by David Finnigan
Directed by Nic Connaughton
Produced by Pleasance Theatre and Maya Ellis
Featuring Felicity Ward, Kelly Paterniti, Bec Hill, Hannah Ellis Ryan, and Nathan Coenen
4th – 28th June 2019

The first show I saw at the downstairs Pleasance Theatre in Islington was Bismillah! An Isis Tragicomedy, a play which mixed side-splitting black comedy with controversial and complex socio-political commentary. I gave it five stars. This weekend I found myself in that space again, and once again, I was treated to a piece of theatre which had me alternately gasping with laughter and staring down the barrel of one of the biggest crises of the modern day. They sure can pick ‘em.

The majority of Kill Climate Deniers is cathartic silly satire, and very good at being that. An all-women cast of experienced Australian actors and comedians caper through the riotous tale of a terrorist attack on Parliament House during a Fleetwood Mac concert; we follow the story of Gwen Malkin, Minister for the Environment in a conservative government, and her social media advisor, Georgia Bekken. Felicity Ward – one of Australia’s biggest comedienne exports of the moment – absolutely nails the role Malkin, playing to perfection a politician out of her depth, hiding insecurity with bluster and narcissism. Kelly Paterniti as Bekken provides terrific support and counterbalance as the more level-headed advisor, pulling the politician’s strings even as she strokes her ego – except for occasional flashes of mania, centring around a hatred of bloggers (this monologue was the only time in the play that I really worried for my safety) and an encyclopaedic knowledge of 80s disco hits. Certainly quite a different role to the last I saw her in, which was the titular heroine of a Romeo and Juliet production at the Sydney Opera House!

Hannah Ellis Ryan and Bec Hill. Image Credit: Ali Wright

On the other side we have Bec Hill, another successful Aussie comedy export, as the eco-terrorist leader Catch. Combining army fatigues and gothic chic (and on that topic, kudos to Prinx Lydia, set and costume designer, for their excellent touches), she really does exude menace and chilling fanaticism. She knows that she’s on the side of the bad guys, but believes so completely in her cause that she feels the possible ends justify the means: ‘See I know we’re not right… but even if I were 99% wrong, I’d still shoot every politician for that 1% chance of changing things’. (I was very intrigued by the implications of an authorial aside revealing that, in an earlier draft, Catch was Malkin’s 11-year-old daughter via a time-travelling subplot… but I can see why this was cut.) Finally, playing a number of roles with great versatility is Hannah Ellis Ryan, who dies a few times onstage as various terrorist henchwomen, and then once with great aplomb as centre-right political commentator Beverly Ile. It is as Ile that she really shines, maintaining a smooth and smarmily bland façade while all goes her way, and the dropping the mask and letting rip in a spitting, venomous, spiteful rant about the patheticness of scientists.

Together, and to some seriously banging tunes, these women act out a story of mutual destruction grounded in fear and an inability to communicate. I think the meaning of this tale is perfectly expressed in the foreword by Julian Hobba, artistic director of Aspen Island Theatre Company, who first commissioned the project: ‘[the characters] represent two powerful and opposing political forces, pushed, by the extremity of the situation and the immovability of their positions, into a lethal death spiral… Through the eyes of this play, we are name-calling through counter-narratives while Rome burns.’

Felicity Ward and Bec Hill. Image credit: Ali Wright

There is another key aspect of this show which I’ve yet to touch on: there is another presence onstage, or seated just off to the side, in the audience. This is the author (or, as I only realised partway through, an actor standing in for him), and he often presses pause on the events onstage to provide commentary, justification, context, or the true backstory of the play’s development and verbatim reactions from climate deniers, politicians, and Andrew Bolt. These asides are often as hilarious as the gags onstage, but some provide a more serious counterweight to the semi-absurd comedy, and make astute and sobering socio-political observations. The final two monologues – addressed to climate change deniers and appraising the driving force behind their beliefs – truly blew my mind and explored the issue in a light I had never considered before.

This “Finnig” (that is, the voice of writer David Finnigan) is portrayed by Nathan Coenen, an actor of Australian origin who has been in the UK for many years. Indeed, he takes a little while to settle back into the Australian accent, sounding very British-neutral for the first scene or two, but so many Aussies (myself included) are guilty of this unconscious chameleon camouflage when in the Motherland, and by the time the play is properly underway he is able to “yeah, nah” with the best of them. It is in this voice that he explores the author’s doubts and regrets about the title and the ethical content of the play, with the benefit of hindsight as it went through a number of evolutions.

I exited Kill Climate Deniers having known that I’d seen some amazing theatre. My only qualm was – yep – the title, and the premise of violence against those we disagree with. Not because I never feel that rage and frustration, but because I enjoy having the moral high ground, and feel that the left (usually) manages to hold onto principles better than the right. However, it’s not like the play doesn’t address this, and at its heart, this play is not based in violence or hatred. It’s based in primal, abject terror of the future we are sleepwalking into; it’s raging against the powerlessness we as individuals feel when up against global crises; it’s hysterical laughter and communal catharsis in the knowledge that everyone else in the room is just as scared as you.

Bec Hill, David Coenen, and Kelly Paterniti. Image credit: Ali Wright

I’m not exaggerating in the least when I say that I could continue to write a full-length analytical analysis about this play, but I’ve been told off for my verbosity before, so I’ll wrap it up here. All I can say is that Kill Climate Deniers is intelligent, hilarious, thought-provoking, and fun, and you should go and see it. (Especially if you’re an expat from Down Under living in London – because someone in the audience needs to laugh at those Aussie-only cultural references.) (Also how fucking great is it to have an all-female cast in comedic roles that would often be given to men without a second thought?)

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Previous review:  Custody by Urban Wolf @ Ovalhouse Theatre

REVIEW! Transit by FLIP Fabrique @ Underbelly Festival Southbank

Director: Alexandre Fecteau
Artistic Direction: Bruno Gagnon
Choreographer: Annie Saint-Pierre
Presented by FLIP Fabrique and Underbelly
27th May – 7th July 2019

FLIP Fabrique is a company of young artists from Quebec, Canada, who travel the world performing their circus routines. Their latest show, Transit, is about… travelling the world performing circus routines. From the moment the performers tumble onto the stage out of a road case, it is evident that there is something different about this troupe: they have an infectious sense of fun and mischief, and tangible close rapport with each other. Despite the fact that their show is in a mix of English and French, their brand of humour is both too exuberant to be English and too irreverent to be French. And despite the fact that there was little in the way of story or aesthetic theme, the show felt cohesive and never lost momentum or interest.

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Throughout the course of the hour-long performance, the troupe cycled through a number of circus acts and disciplines. Of course, in homage to their name, they started with a series of acrobatic tricks; flips and tumbles and feats of precarious balancing atop a wildly ambulatory road case. This soon gave way to aerial straps performances from Pierre Riviere (once topless and showing off his chiseled physique, and then later as a comical callback performance in a fatsuit, weeping into doughnuts); hula-hoop feats from Jade Dussault; strongman stunts from Jonathan Julien; juggling of various items (pins, balls, knives, etc) from Jasmin Blouin; hair-raising trampoline acrobatics from Cedrik Pinault; and, as a standout performance, diabolo juggling and general wizardry from Jeremie Arsenault. Honestly, diabolos have never been anywhere near the top of my list of most exciting circus instruments, but this man’s skill with the things was mind-blowing. Indeed, I’m convinced that he was controlling them with some sort of otherworldly power, because they were behaving more like perfectly-trained show dogs than inanimate objects. Coupled with this mastery was his sparkling mien of mischief and good humour, which made his every scene into side-splitting comedy.

These acts were interwoven with other short skits and exchanges which ranged from silly (waking up a birthday boy with a faceful of shaving cream), to surreal (live creation of a chalk dust Jackson Pollock-esque painting of the team), to banter between friends (“what’s your next project?” “giving life” “never heard of them”), and back to silly again (an entire routine based in balletic sweet-spitting, because if travelling as a troupe means anything, it means going down as a team if even one of you gets a cold). The trampo-walling finale literally had me on the edge of my seat, torn between awe and horror, and when the show ended I felt like I was saying goodbye to friends.

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This, really, was the atmosphere that made Transit so enjoyable: the feeling that, on stage in front of you, was a bunch of mates who genuinely love each other’s company, who sometimes squabble like children, but support each other on-stage and off, and just have an absolute ball creating and performing shows together. There were a number of fluffed tricks throughout, but they were dealt with so good-naturedly that you couldn’t really hold it against them. There were also times when I felt like artists were performing outside of their skillsets, to the detriment of the performance (when my friends and I went through our skipping-rope phase in primary school I remember pulling off a number of tricks that didn’t land in this show). When these same performers then had shining moments of incredible skill later on, it made me question whether they were being used to their best advantage at all times. That said, I can understand the impulse to have as many of the troupe as possible on stage together as much as possible, because together, this FLIP Fabrique team was dynamite. I would absolutely recommend this show to people of all ages, and anyone looking for a fun and uncomplicated night out.

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Previous review: A Winter’s Tale @ The Warren, Brighton Fringe

REVIEW! Summer Street: The Hilarious Aussie Soap Opera Musical @ Waterloo East Theatre

Created and directed by Andrew Norris
Set design by Amy Mitchell
Performed by Julie Clare, Simon Snashall, Myke Cotton, and Sarah-Louise Young
13 May – 2 June, 2019

Writing a new musical is a very difficult and brave thing to do. Concept, story, script, libretto, music; all are essential to the creation of a new smash hit such as any budding creative would hope to add to their resumé. Summer Street is a new tilt at those windmills, robing itself in the campy, melodramatic world of the Australian soap-opera glory days of the 1990s to spin a story about love, obsession, addiction and betrayal; pretty much the topics you’d expect, really.

Summer Street is a deeply self-aware and self-deprecating portrayal of a world that never really existed. The writer’s self-professed obsession with Australian soaps oozes out of every second of the production, and though the Australian-ness of the show is little more than aesthetic, to quote a true Australian classic, “it’s the vibe of it” that sells the theme, grounded in a uniquely British view of Australia dominated by sunny days, washboard abs and optimistic alcoholism.

The world of Summer Street is brought to life by a tight cast of four, each portraying a former actor (washed-up to varying degrees) in the titular soap, as well as the several characters they play in a reunion special years after the show’s conclusion. Over two acts and over a dozen original songs we follow the cast of Summer Street as they struggle with what the show did to them and what they do to each other.

Summer Street’s original incarnation was as a juke-box musical constructed of pop hits of the 80s and 90s, which has since has had its unlicensed soundtrack replaced with original numbers, and unfortunately it shows. The juke-box musical is a peculiar beast which, with few exceptions, is fuelled mainly by nostalgia for old familiar tunes and the comedy value of seeing them in an unfamiliar, often surprising, context. Without those familiar classics – the Kylie, the AC/DC – the core of Summer Street feels somewhat hollow. Andrew Norris’ music and lyrics would be adequate in a show with a stronger book and meatier subject matter; they’re lightly amusing, provide a lot of over-the-top melodrama for the cast to work with, and showcase the singers’ abilities. However, they’re not strong or subversive enough to stand in for the pop canon they’re trying to replace. It’s telling that the standout songs, to me, were the ones that were most musical theatre-esque and least poppy (Take The Knife and Dear Mr Drew).

I have the feeling that the cast watched a lot of Home & Away and/or Neighbours to prepare for these roles, and that self-sacrifice shows. As I and my companion were both actual fair-dinkum Australians, I can say that their accents were absolutely bang-on (or appropriately exaggerated for the medium), and the only slip-ups I really caught were a couple of sentences which wandered over to Johannesburg, and a tendency to slip into loftier vowel sounds during the musical numbers (chance rhymes with ants Down Under, not aunts).

Speaking of aunts, Julie Clare as Steph/Mrs Mingle/Marlene’s accent was so uncannily good that, blindfolded, I would’ve sworn she was my gossipy Aunt Anne. With her self-assured air, she commanded every scene she was in, and could definitely give Kath and/or Kim a run for their money. Simon Snashall was similarly superb as the comically-but-tragically alcoholic Aussie male archetype, despite bravely battling a laryngitis that left him almost voiceless by the show’s end (it was truly impressive that he managed not only to stay on key, but also to put in a hilarious improvised but in-character line referencing his affliction). Myke Cotton as Paul had less to work with than his co-stars, but he did convincingly fill the role of a tanned toned hippy straight out of Byron Bay. The final cast member, Sarah-Louise Young, had the best singing voice, and the strength to make up for Snashall’s handicap. Her acting was just as strong: she was heart-breakingly compelling as Angie, adorably plucky as Bobbi, and absolutely side-splittingly hilarious as Sheila. I wished she had had more time in this final role, as her rollercoaster accent was a work of parody art, and true evidence that she had her ears open the three times she performed at the Adelaide Cabaret Festival (thanks, programme bio). I hope I can see her perform again in the near future.

(07) Myke Cotton and Sarah-Louise Young, courtesy Simon Snashall.jpg

All in all, this was a strong cast in a show with some funny gags but just not quite enough substance to properly fill out its two-hour (including interval) run time. Perhaps as actual Australians, we just didn’t have the nostalgia for Aussie soaps which so many Brits seem to harbour, or perhaps experiencing a whole play in fluent ‘Strayan just doesn’t have the novelty value for us that it does for our English cousins. However, I can’t help but feel that the only way Summer Street could be a real hit would be to return to its jukebox roots, and songs that you just can’t get out of your head.

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Tickets

Previous review: Drawing The Line by Hidden Track @ Deptford Lounge

REVIEW! Drawing The Line by Hidden Track @ Deptford Lounge

Written by Elliot Hughes
Directed by Anoushka Bonwick
Performed by Steph Reynolds, Nisal Cole, & Elliot Hughes
Produced by Beccy Smith for Hidden Track Theatre
9th – 25th May

Image credit: Rosie Powell

The theatre at Deptford Lounge is tucked away upstairs over a library, but it is a serious theatre space – large, versatile, and well-equipped. The audience and stage are contained within walls of black curtains, which make us feel like we are in our own little world. There is a large projector screen, which holds a message as the audience files in, thanking us for our presence and assuring that though this is interactive theatre, there is no pressure to take part. On each seat there is also a simple but elegant black card, reading in white letters NO, THANK YOU. We are to use it to opt out of any proffered interaction. For my companion, who is less seasoned in the ways of fringe theatre than I, this is very comforting, and allows me to convince her to sit in the front row with me. In front of us, the stage is empty, with no settings, backdrop (other than the projector), props (yet), or people. In the beginning, there was nothing.

The first signal that something is about to happen is when the projector’s looping welcome message disappears. In the sudden silence and darkness, three performers – two women and one man – begin telling a Creation myth. It’s one made up by Hidden Track for this show, and tells the story of a world in which resources spring into being from the Everything, allowing for all sorts of wonders, and all in this world, audience included, is separated into two halves by The Line (introduced on stage as a thick, heavy rope). Eventually, two nations spring up, each represented on stage by an actor as a “guardian spirit”, with the divide between them moderated by a supposedly neutral entity, the Lineswoman. Everything is cordial, with only slight underlying tension, until Points are introduced.

Points are the mechanic which encourages and rewards audience participation, and fosters competition between the two “nations”. Audience members can earn points by, as summarised by a character later in the story, “clapping, cheering, or yelling out random words” – or any other type of interaction. Basically, we have the power to name our guardian spirit, choose the national fauna, and build landmarks out of cardboard boxes – but it’s strictly a gap-fill kind of participation, with a tightly scripted plot which doesn’t allow for or rely on much improvisation. And that is not a criticism! It means that the show is always held firmly in grip, never spinning out of the performers’ control, and that momentum is kept up nicely. But there is just enough audience participation to keep us involved and entertained, and enough tongue-in-cheek self-awareness for it not to be twee.

Image credit: Rosie Powell

Unfortunately, this self-awareness, momentum, and audience interaction fades somewhat at the end. After a lengthy and often absurd or surreal allegory, the plot is wrapped up with some narration that feels both prolonged and rushed, not to mention didactic. Without the veneer of humour, the philosophical and political messages begin to feel patronising, and about as subtle as a brick: jingoism is bad, so is discrimination, inequality, us vs them mentalities, building walls, etc. The only concept that really makes me prick up my ears is a line about how “the system isn’t failing, it’s doing exactly what it’s designed to do”, but this isn’t really explored except as a springboard for symbolically dismantling the system.

Other than this uneven pacing, though, the show is incredibly slick for interactive theatre, well managed, aesthetically pleasing, and just plain fun. Irene Jade is to be congratulated for an elegantly miminal design, director Anoushka Bonwick for a tightly wound and polished production, and actors Steph Reynolds and Elliot Hughes for keeping the audience well in hand and excelling in their portrayals of a wide range of characters, especially the comic ones. If you’re new to interactive theatre, this is an excellent starting point, and I would especially recommend it to families who want some kid-friendly fun which might provide an opportunity to discuss some meaty topics on the way home. Be willing to put up a hand to take part (the interactions are anything but strenuous, I promise) and to spend the rest of the night brushing chalk off your jeans legs. If any of this appeals to you at all, make sure you get in line now to buy tickets for Drawing The Line.

Tickets

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Previous review: Ish… by Georgie Jones @ The Roundhouse

Review! Ish… by Georgie Jones @ The Roundhouse

Written and Performed by Georgie Jones
Directed by Jenny Bakst
Presented in the Sackler Space, The Roundhouse
3rd May, 2019

Image result for ish georgie jones

Georgie Jones is 25 (ish) and she’s cracked what it means to be a woman. Just kidding, she’s on the same messy journey as the rest of us; unpicking sexist conditioning, examining questions of philosophy and identity, and navigating the same pitfalls that have stymied generations of women and girls. In this one-woman show, she jumps back and forth through personal stories from various stages of her growing up, interweaving them with spoken word poetry, comically exuberant dancing to accompanying 90s jams, and faux lectures on the wide-ranging topic of femininity. Dressed in denim overalls and with a face bare of makeup, it was clear from the get-go that this show would be performed with honesty and strength of character and conviction.

From the press release, I had expected this show to be mainly about sex (mis)education and how it screws all of us over, and at first it did largely gravitate back towards this theme. However, as the show progressed, it tended to stray further into the more generalised and ambitious territories of love, existential crises, and identity. The viewpoints explored in these facets were relatable, eloquently put, funny, and clever, but I felt that the punch of the show was diluted by its attempted breadth of focus. This caused a lack of direction and momentum, which I suspect Jones felt as well, as her performance – so strong and self-assured at the start, hitting every beat and knowing her work inside out – became shakier as the show went on.

As a 25-year-old woman myself, much of Ish‘s content resounded with me very deeply, even though there were some very English references and rites of passage which hadn’t been part of my growing up Down Under. But the 90s nostalgia was strong, and catapulted me right back into a teenaged world where everything was at once much simpler (I was struck by how we were the last generation to escape high school mostly unscathed by the advent of mobile internet, cyber-bullying, and social media politics) and much, much more complicated. Jones portrayed this world with wit and warmth, poking fun at herself and us all whilst still treating her younger self with compassion and affection. There were laugh-out-loud moments, a lot of sympathetic groans, and winces of “yep, I was guilty of that too…” The early pubescent panic of staring at the hair removal methods on offer at the pharmacy was brought back to me viscerally, and the grateful love with which Jones spoke about her female friendships made me appreciate my own anew. Mentions of a possible rape and resulting trauma lent some balance to the emotional range of the piece, but could perhaps have been explored with more nuance and sensitivity to avoid emotional whiplash for the audience.

Overall, this was a strong start for a young performer, demonstrating formidable stage presence as well as a compelling way with words. Ish… itself has great potential, and a lot of sparkling gems scattered throughout its content. However, I feel that the script could benefit from some streamlining, possibly being pared back to its strongest core theme of sex education, what we weren’t told, and how we found it out along the way. If this were undertaken, it could be an excellent, punchy half-hour performance which would bring laughter and contemplation to a festival stage. But even as it is already, the merits of the show make it a very enjoyable hour of theatre, and will certainly engender discussion and personal reminiscence all the way home.

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Apologies to Georgie for the tardiness of this review, and thank you for the opportunity to attend your show. 

Previous review: Fighter @ Stratford Circus Arts Center

REVIEW! Oliver With A Twist, Sh!t-Faced Showtime @ Leicester Square Theatre

Director and Writer: Katy Baker
Producer: Issy Wroe Wright
A Magnificent Bastards Production
27 March – 12 April, 2019

Image credit: Rah Petherbridge

The company which lurched into success – and the impressive Leicester Square Theatre – with Sh!t-Faced Shakespeare has expanded from the Bard to Dickens, with this tipsy twisty version of Oliver!. For the uninitiated, the gimmick of Shit-Faced Showtime is that they take classical, mainly serious theatre, and get one of the cast members outrageously drunk before the show. The result is somewhere between parody, improvisational comedy, and your most attention-seeking mate getting a bit sloppy on a night out.

The chosen drunkard on press night was Issy Wroe Wright, who was playing Oliver and is, incidentally, the producer of the theatre company. When I’ve seen Sh!t-Faced plays in the past, the afflicted actor was always instantly obvious – but in Wroe Wright’s case, it took me a little while to be sure. While I’m staunchly against alcohol abuse as well as abuse of actors, I couldn’t help but feel that she wasn’t quite soused enough to live up to the production’s central concept. The very first dance numbers were absolutely hilarious, as she scrambled after her co-stars, always a comedic, stumbling beat behind, completely failing to do hand claps or knee slaps – but as the show progressed, she seemed to sober up, and her numbers were increasingly just mediocre performances rather than bad enough to be funny. This was despite the beers handed to her by both the MC and audience members when she was deemed to need another; she never actually drank from these, instead just disposing of them offstage. Now, I can’t take my drink very well myself, and usually would absolutely be on the side of someone who’s decided they want to stop and move on to water, but… being willing to get a bit shit-faced is literally in the job description, in this case.

Image credit: Rah Petherbridge

Negativity aside, the rest of the cast – despite their sobriety – provided enough comedic relief to distract from Oliver’s straightness, and play up what boozy behaviour there was. Writer/director Katy Baker was wonderful as the MC, strutting about the stage with wit and wickedness, bantering with the audience and directing the action. Nick Moore (I think? both actors who alternate nights as Fagin are tall, fair Australians, according to the programme!) is excellent in his many roles, from orphan master to criminal master to court master. Alan McHale’s Dodger was as charming a cockney sidekick as Oliver could have asked, and Beth Rowe as Nancy impressed with a sped-up version of I Dreamed A Dream out of absolutely nowhere (as, I assume, they couldn’t afford Lionel Bart’s music, most of the production’s songs were cobbled together from various other sources, in bite-sized chunks small enough not to trip the rights wire). The cast was obviously having a lot of fun together on stage, and there was enough wittiness and silliness that I did find myself guffawing and snorting at points in the show.

Unfortunately, without delivering on the central premise and promise of a raucously sloshed actor, there wasn’t much else to the show. It ended up occupying that awkward window of being too facetious to be good theatre, but not bad enough to be funny theatre. As stated, I have seen other Sh!t-Faced productions in which the drunken actors were either better actors or drunks, and the concept really did work in a “dumb but harmless fun, and hey it’s making the classics more accessible” kind of way. I’m hoping that this time was an outlier, and that next time I catch one of their shows, the inebriated actor will be one who’s more willing to say “please sir, I want some more.”

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Previous review: Maggie May by SDWC Productions @ the Finborough Theatre