Phil Scott as Lionel Bart. Cabaret Festival. Artspace. 19 Jun 2015
Everybody remembers Lionel Bart songs but Bart himself has withered in public memory, doubtless because of the way in which his career withered.
Australia's pre-eminent musical satirist, Phil Scott, once again has moved away from mocking politics and stepped adroitly into Cabaret Festival mode, bringing us Bart as a new bio show. Last year, with Blake Bowden, Scott presented a portrait of Mario Lanza. This year he comes solo with this fast and tight little concert tracing the life and music of the once-celebrated English songwriter, Lionel Bart. Bart was the creative name behind Oliver! and countless pop songs of the 50s and 60s. His heyday was filled with knocking up quick and chirpy hits of the day for stars like Tommy Steele and Cliff Richard.
Everyone remembers the big numbers of Oliver! and hits such as From Russia With Love, Living Doll, and Fings Ain't Wot they Used to Be, but it is the boomers who have their nostalgic bells rung when Scott revives quirky old hit-parade triumphs such as The Little White Bull.
Scott co-wrote this show with his director, Terence O'Connell, and they have pushed it to racetrack pace to pack a life story plus a might of music into a mere 70 minutes. It's exhausting, breathless stuff with Scott belting out big numbers in a big voice. He may not have the broadest vocal range in the world, but he has perfect pitch and a particularly agreeable voice. One cannot tire of him. And, of course, there's his glorious, effortless musicianship.
He packed the houses in the Artspace - and rightly so. Adelaide audiences know to expect a quality show when Scott's in town.
The show is set at the end of Bart's career when, from a life of celebrity and opulence, he has slipped to living alone in a gin-soaked flat above a 24-hour laundrette. The sparse Artspace set suggests this with a grand piano on one side and the rest of the flat on the other with a cheap lamp, armchair, and table with bottle of Tanqueray.
Between gulps of stage gin, Scott regales with Cockney gusto. He tells of the Jewish lad's precocious talents, how he changed his name from Lionel Begleiter, how he tried to keep his homosexuality in the closet, how he chummed up with Judy Garland and Noel Coward, how his inability to read or write music hampered his career and how he sold the rights to Oliver! for 350 pounds to the awful Max Bygraves, but how Cameron Mackintosh was kind to him when he later took control of those rights.
It was a rounded picture, an engrossing rags-to-riches-to-rags showbiz story well told, and another terrific night from our fabulous Phil Scott.
Samela Harris
When: 18 to 20 Jun
Where: Artspace
Booings: bass.net.au
ATA Allstar Artists and Adelaide Festival Centre. Festival Theatre. 19 Jun 2015
I sat next to an 83 year-old guy and I said, "I think we are the youngest two people in this packed out matinee." Imagine, he was a kid when Glenn Miller was big in the late thirties and early forties, and he was present to the entire panoply of music ever since. Yet, here he is, pleased as punch. He and his wife have seen each of LA's The Glenn Miller Orchestra's three Australian tours. The Festival Theatre was full of people expecting a trip down memory lane and that's exactly what was delivered to their obvious delight.
I'm afraid I'm a bit hampered by the lack of a program, a pen, and ATA Allstar's minimalist website, so I can't actually name names. The band leader was an avuncular man with hair as white as his tuxedo jacket. The only band leading he did, though, was to conduct the end of each number; otherwise, he introduced the songs and the extra talent and played the trombone with the other four trombones. The orchestra was arrayed with a baker's dozen of horns on the right and a pianist and drums on the left. They all seemed incredibly bored at the beginning, like they have done this a hundred times before, which is probably true. But they quickly warmed up and returned the appreciation of the raptured audience. The horn players were up on risers so they could all be seen: trumpets in the back, trombones in the middle and sax/clarinet players in the front. I just loved it when the soloists stood up or when they all stood to emphasise a few bars.
I thought they played flawlessly. When the band leader introduced everybody, most of them formerly played with a famous band like Les Brown or some such. I have never heard the other Glenn Miller orchestra, The World Famous Glenn Miller Orchestra run by Glenn Miller Productions of Florida, and a Glenn Miller battle-of-the-bands would be really something to witness.
When the white-haired band leader introduced a song, the crowd would murmur with recognition and expectation. Indeed, by the second half of the generous two hour concert that flew by like the war years, I was going, "Mmmmmmm," as well, and nodding my head in anticipation of the next gem. Alas, your reviewer was not quite on top of it. The avuncular band leader asked people to shout out Pennsylvania 6-5000 at the appropriate times and yours truly participated. But the aficionados know that the last chant is Pennsylvania 6-5-Oh-Oh-Oh, and I felt like a right goose, especially since the old codger next to me even warned me, but I didn't understand what he was talking about.
Of course, if it was just the band, it might get a bit monotonous. But they had a few tricks up their sleeves. Some numbers were accompanied by the Broadway Swing Dancers of Sydney - a couple of sharp couples with astonishing energy. Other numbers were sung by an attractive lady named Wendy Smith (funny how that's the only name I can remember). She has about 4000 swivel bones in her body and sounded like an angel. And a rather unimpressive looking young man blew off quite a few toupees with this booming voice and relaxed Rat Pack style. I could look at her and listen to him all day.
Alack, they only did two shows and both the same day, which must be very tiring for them. And they’ve got two shows in Sydney the next day followed by one in Nowra the day following. And Hawaii and New Zealand as well, I believe. Well, God bless them. This is the music that helped get people through the world war and some things are never forgotten.
David Grybowski
When: 19 June
Where: Festival Theatre
Bookings: Closed
Unescorted. Adelaide Cabaret Festival. Space Theatre. 18 Jun 2015
Poised, standing back-lit behind a dressers screen, Lady Rizo’s silhouette is reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe. A shock of curls sits high atop her head; her long slender neck blends to a perfect shoulder line; her hands, clasped at her belly, create perfect symmetry with her arms – two triangles of light peeking through define her shapely torso; her slender waist gives way to a gentle hip curve, and she turns. Now in profile we see the gorgeous curve of a 5 month pregnant Rizo. She rolls her hands over the baby bump and steps into the light.
A self-proclaimed chanteuse, she describes herself to strangers as a “singer of torch songs” but not all of her repertoire is lamentation and sentimentality. Rizo is a captivating speaker. She manipulates every aspect of her being to draw her audience into the palm of her hands. She is sexual, sensual, quick of wit, and has a stunning voice.
Flanked by musicians on the Space Theatre stage she tells us her story; the cabaret star who is soon to be a mother to her first child, gender unknown. Her tales neatly segue from song to song, transporting us on a journey that sees the time fly by. One cannot wait for her to finish a song and start talking again. She is a fabulous singer, and that really says something of her oration.
We are treated to gorgeous numbers from her own album Violet as well as some unique arrangements of pop songs, along with a raunchy onstage costume change, where audience participation is the perfect addition.
Rizo is delightfully glamorous in her diamantes and sequins but there is more to this performer than flashy costuming – see her if you can!
Paul Rodda
When: Closed
Where: Space Theatre
Bookings: Closed
Adelaide Repertory Theatre. Arts Theatre. 18 Jun 2015
It's Just Sex had the appellation of a tawdry British farce but instead American playwright Jeff Gould's second play is a saucy and comedic excogitation on what is normally just a thought bubble at your average suburban drinks party - How much fun would it be if we go to bed with each other's partner?
After a racy start more at home in a porn movie, and a vignette of the state of coupledom in the three marriages, our tense but salubrious six-some turns salacious. The scene is set for something to happen after a few cocktails (I love the way Americans get plastered on cocktails and not beer and wine), but unlike Don's Party it's not election night, it's erection night. And following any good car wreck, there is a lot of excited talk and psycho-babble about what just happened. Gould doesn't waste words - he quickly closes in on coitus and the first act is over in 37 minutes.
Director Erik Strauts has chosen such a wonderful cast that I was completely convinced I was a fly on the wall. Bronwyn Ruciak, James Whitrow, Tess O'Flaherty, Jonathan Johnston, Sharon Pitardi and Luke Budgen each produced well rounded and naturalistic characterisations and shone in their turn on centre stage. Lines are delivered with expert deadpan and the jokes are good with many surprising big laughs. But something in the writing made momentum difficult to attain.
Playwright Gould has an interesting track record with marriage and he likes to tell the world about it. His first play was Troubled Waters - the kind you find in matrimony - and he and his ex did a live comedy routine for 19 months. But his chauvinism still comes barging through. The male characters in this play arrive or rise to self-assurance and show off their sexual philosophy, while the females don't seem to get it and need straightening out. Hurt and perplexity were well communicated by Pitardi, O'Flaherty and especially by Ruciak, whose host and game-leader Joan carried more important baggage than the other wives. In fact, it's very interesting to see people provoked into doing something they normally wouldn't do by somebody who has hidden, ulterior, and selfish motives, like revenge. It's manipulating, and Ruciak - and James Whitrow as Joan's husband, Phil - played with sensitivity and intrigue a poignant psychological drama. Better than Don's Party.
Director Strauts didn't see the need to employ any contemporary music which would certainly have jazzed up the production, and the lighting was a complete schmozzle with all the action stage right taking place in theatrical dusk (lighting design: Richard Parkhill). Costumes were great but there is no credit for them in the program, so maybe the actors just wore what they liked, I don't know.
The whole concept harks back to the swinging '70s and the keys in the bowl thing, which now seems a little old fashioned, but it's still one of the great naughty thoughts we have - thinking hopefully that there are no consequences and nobody gets hurt - and if you believe It's Just Sex, it leads to good outcomes, so I guess the play is inspiring? This excellently performed and nicely directed production deserved a much bigger audience than the quarter-full house I was part of on opening night. So take your partner and at least one other couple you like a lot.
David Grybowski
When: 18 to 27 Jun
Where: Arts Playhouse
Bookings: trybooking.com
Stephen Sheehan. Adelaide Cabaret Festival. Festival Centre Rehearsal Room. 18 Jun 2015
Guided in tranches through subterranean corridors in the Festival Centre, life has already become surreal by the time one is seated in the two-tiered auditorium which was once a rehearsal room. Is that the underside of a revolve overhead? There is a cave-like stage in a corner with a sink and mirror, a massage table, a TV monitor, sofa, and a keyboard. It is a dressing room. Opera plays on the Tannoy.
A man sits with his back to the gathering audience. A woman sleeps deep in the sofa's coffin-like embrace.
The house lights go down. The man turns. It is Stephen Sheehan who introduces his character and the composer Wagner whose name he pronounces as "Wag-na" and presents, for our convenience, his translation of the opera being sung. He flips large pages on a pad and a wild nonsense of misheard lyrics unfolds, except that, ridiculous as they are, one can hear them clearly. Then Arapahoe, the miniature horse enters. Solid little pony, he seems unfazed by the audience's laughter and the trilling of the soprano. He snuffles intently on some interesting scent on the stage. The hilarity of the lyrics rises as Sheehan flips the pages, moving around to make way for the little visitor. The little horse is as adorable as it is incongruous. His presence is not explained. The audience is in stitches.
And the show is not like anything one could ever have imagined. But, presto, it is the vivid imaginings of Stephen Sheehan. Move over Luis Bunuel. Here is a surrealist soul much sweeter. Here comes a voyage which is sweet-natured and clever, lateral-thinking, original, and off-the-wall.
The pony exits. The actor dons a beautiful white horse head and plays soulfully on the keyboard.
When he reveals his face, it is with a dreadful curly wig and the revelation that he is now Tristan, ever besotted with Isolde. He's also a “background comedian” by which he defines himself; a strange sort of wallpaper entertainer. He tells jokes which he attributes to composers such as Chopin, Liszt, and Bach. He tells them while playing their music on his keyboard. He tells them softly, almost incidentally. They start out as cornball and then swerve into the lateral mindspace called Sheehan. He is not like anyone else.
The body on the couch rises to become the glorious Isolde, a Wagnerian soprano. She is a wonderful singer but, very strange. She sings while lying prone on the massage couch. She plays it straight from another world, oblivious to Tristan. In so doing, she enhances the strange humour of the piece beautifully. She is delivered by renowned opera singer Norma Knight - a performance of brave good spirit.
Sheehan weaves a narrative about Tristan's unrequited love. He plays many pieces. He tells more shaggy composer stories. His pace is beautiful. He is unhurried, unruffled, pensive. He has immense grace and a sweetness of demeanour. He is sometimes just a little coy. Sometimes he is just a little melancholy. Always he is strikingly original and his mastery of stagecraft is effortless.
The Cabaret Festival season of his show is brief. Too brief.
I would tell the world to drop everything and see this jewel of absurdity. But it has vanished into the ether of the moment. What a glorious moment it was.
Samela Harris
When: Closed
Where: Festival Centre Rehearsal Room
Bookings: Closed