University of Adelaide Theatre Guild. Little Theatre. 22 Aug 2024
A nice night’s entertainment it never was. It’s nasty.
Because of the political frailties and the dangerous madness of current US politics, one feels all the more disturbed, indignant, and incredulous at the grotesque follies of King Lear. His smug regal vanity pits his daughters against each other with an ensuing torrent of violence and hatred which, showing people at their worst, is Shakespeare at his tragedian best.
To make it all the more gruelling, this AUTG production directed by Brant Eustice is set in a quasi-industrial, post-apocalyptic world, its Kate Prescott set looking like an abandoned construction site and its Lisa Lanzi costumes like Mad Max remnants dragged from the recycle bin. So puzzling are the costumes, with bottle cap adornments and beer can pull-tab jewellery, that they quite draw the attention from the high drama enacted by their wearers. Edmund’s off-the-shoulder number almost one-upped the extremely fine performance of Sean Flierl. And what a fine voice he has.
Of course, it is Michael Eustice’s voice which rules the stage. Clad in grubby, ill-fitting rags, he delivers the might, majesty, and epic madness of the King. If his vocal delivery is masterful, the expressions in his eyes through every nuance of every scene are spellbinding. He “inhabits’ the role. It is a magnificent, deeply satisfying performance.
King Lear, with its complexity of rival royals and riven loyalties, accommodates a large and needfully accomplished cast, the likes of which we can see less and less in these economically fraught times. It is from the diligence of AUTG and the other unpaid theatricals that we may expose our young to major classical works such as this. Director Brant Eustice has rallied some fine performers and wrapped this long and torrid drama in snappy timing and lovely character work. Eustice himself, standing in for a sick cast member, is among them, heartbreaking as poor blinded Gloucester and, beside him as his son Edgar, Robert Baulderstone in an eminently creditable and consistent performance. He doubles nicely as the King of France. Rebecca Kemp, shines once more in the role of Lear’s venomous daughter, Regan. Her Shakespearean articulation is perfect. Georgia Stockham playing her evil sister, Goneril, is also articulate but oh, my, the Widow Twankey has nothing on the hapless overkill of her hair and costume. As Cordelia, the king's youngest and favourite daughter, Rhoda Sylvester enchants from her excellent opening scene but is a little lost subsequently. Then there’s the incomparable Geoff Revell. He makes a tasty meal of The Fool, nimble of tongue and toe. The much-respected Sharon Malujlo is oddly miscast as Kent. Not so Tracey Walker as Albany and Tom Tassone as Cornwall. Then there’s Tony Sampson, grinning, mad as Oswald with, in myriad roles, Harry Passehl, Lizzie Zeuner, Mike Leach and Imogen Deller-Evans. It is a strong, hardworking cast, exhausting to watch, and the sword fighting is genuinely scary.
Michael Green’s score is quite arresting. It is gently industrial, softly clamorous, original and befitting. Then there’s the storm, perhaps not as overwhelming as in other productions, but the Little Theatre is an intimate space and, as director, Brant Eustice has manipulated the action in such a way that the audience feels truly enveloped. Hence, when it comes to a night of unrelenting Shakespearean cruelty, sorrow, death, and insanity, it is perversely enjoyable.
Samela Harris
When: 22 to 25 Aug
Where: The Little Theatre
Bookings: Sold Out
Editor’s Note: King Lear has unfortunately closed early due to a illness.
Sydney Theatre Company and Canberra Theatre Centre presented by State Theatre Company South Australia in Association with the University of Adelaide. Dunstan Playhouse. 20 Aug 2024
Julia Gillard is less remembered as the country’s first female Prime Minister than as the woman who told the patriarchy exactly where to go.
Her great misogyny speech is so celebrated that it has become a performance piece in itself.
Hence, at the almost one-hander play written by that brilliant Melbourne playwright, Joanna Murray-Smith, it is unsurprising that the audience is braced with expectation.
It is not disappointed, of course.
There is no pretence that a play simply called Julia is a critical analysis of the Gillard years. It is, in fact, a paeon. It is beautifully written and theatrically crafted. It is a 100-minute love song underscored by the hypothesis of the subject’s thought processes.
All of the above is very artfully enabled by the dramatic finesse of Justine Clarke. Gillard expresses her inner life through the refined voice of the actress. Only now and then at pivotal moments does that unmistakable and oft-parodied ’Strine tone of the politician herself jolt through the dialogue and it does so with startlingly astute mimicry. It is an extremely clever auditory balancing act for, indeed, 100 minutes of strident vocal verite might be tough going and would definitely undermine some of the pensive lyricism of the script.
There’s an irony that the play is called Julia insofar as the Julia in the play makes a vehement point of the fact that she felt the political and public world’s reference to her by her Christian name was disrespectful. Other Prime Ministers were mentioned more formally in the third person by surnames.
In which contemplation one realised that during her PM era, one had not seen things from her perspective at all. Such familiarity one had taken for yon easy-going Aussie affection.
But the play looks at Gillard’s inner life.
There is no doubt that Parliament was and, indeed, is, a place of unremittingly savage and boorish behaviour. Certain politicians were not and are not figures of culture and refinement and even those who have been, such as Keating, used their erudition only for a more colourful abusive eloquence.
Our first woman PM had a thorny path and, while her lack of marital status and as a woman “barren” of children were quietly understood by many women, they definitely did not align to the haúsefrau expectations of the narrow old conservatives. Nothing much has changed. One just has to watch the American right wing’s constant carping against childless Kamala Harris. Which, of course, has been drowned by a wonderful tsunami of cats.
Murray-Smith avoids mentioning Gillard’s atheism but creates a very earnest thinkscape of our historic 27th Prime Minister and, under Sarah Goodes’ sensitive direction, Clarke delivers a serious, reflective woman devoid of physical vanity but with a core of polished steel. She is softened by the relationship with her Welsh father and origins among the diligence of a mining community.
There are a few treasured moments of levity and the audience laughs readily. There also are moments of personal and professional regret, very carefully bracketed for balance. While Gillard’s administration delivered a motherlode of legislation, 570 Bills passed, there were some extremely lamentable failures; single parent pensions as refugees among them.
But there are no shortcomings for Justine Clarke. For the actress, it is a tour de force. She commands the stage with a spirit of soft determination. Even when Julia is telling the world where to get off, she gives it a lightness. She’s casually costumed, accompanied on stage by Jessica Bentley as the young woman and dresser. Hers is a very benign presence, with shadowy entrances and exits at symbolic moments. This well-lit presence also serves to lift the production from the visual limits of a one-hander. Renee Mulder’s set alleviates this impression, too. It is an excellent set, mirrored on two sides to give depth and interest and also to align with AV projections. For Julia, there is a carpeted quadrangle centre stage but only a chair and a pot plant in the way of sets and props. Minimalist it is indeed. But, the production values - light, sound, and design - are nigh flawless.
Monologues have become a major “thing” in these years of slender theatrical budgets and hungry audiences have been forgiving.
In this case, however, there are two big names, Murray-Smith and Gillard. In Australia 2024, they're an irresistible drawcard.
The theatre is packed out.
The audience is well rewarded, and it stands in acclaim. It recognises that this monologue, the studied hypothetical contemplations of the first female Australian Prime Minister, is as good as it gets.
Samela Harris
When: 20 to 31 Aug
Where: Dunstan Playhouse
Bookings: statetheatrecompany.com.au
Therry Theatre. Arts Theatre. 10 Aug 2024
It has happened again.
An unfunded local company has turned on a five-star production with the sort of flourishing finesse one may expect of the big professionals.
It is hard to comprehend how Therry could assemble so many excellent singers and generate such a disciplined and committed musical cast, including orchestral musicians, to present such an extremely demanding jukebox musical.
This critic attended the production as organiser of a group booking of decidedly discerning theatre goers. A certain amount of responsibility is accorded to this role, and an embarrassing backlash if group members are disappointed. To make this predicament more absurdly compromising, the director of this show, Jude Hines, is a very fond friend. Perchance the critic was more nervous than the director.
Of course, it is no-win. It would have been hard to pan a bad show by a friend but it also is tricky to write a rave about a friend. Anyway, here it is. Jude made it easy.
Jersey Boys is a triumph.
Don’t take my word for it. Dash down to The Arts Theatre and spend a couple of hours in foot-tapping enjoyment.
As the program explains, Jersey Boys is the story of Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons with a book by Marshall Brickman & Rick Elice, music by Bob Gaudio and Lyrics by Bob Crew.
Full of sixties hit songs, it has been a very well-received musical since its 2004 premiere at La Jolla in California. It ran for 12 years on Broadway, toured, turned up everywhere and, smothered in awards, enjoyed a 2021 West End revival.
All it needs is a snappy director and a fabulous cast.
So, here it is, on the old Therry shoestring budget, looking a million dollars in endless costume changes, a simple scaffolding set with myriad set pieces trucking softly in on the quietest casters in history through the no less than fifty scenes. Set designer Gary Anderson may henceforth answer to the sobriquet “Mr Casters Oil.”
From lighting plots to orchestral cues, this musical just sings.
Lindsay Prodea has always looked good on stage but here, easily accommodating the falsetto reaches of Frankie Valli, he excels both in song and character delivery. It’s a taxing role and a bravura performance. Trevor Anderson plays the key part as Tommy DeVito, the New Jersey wheeler dealer who brings the group both together and apart through the years. He is vocally a treat and immensely appealing onstage. Sam Davy stepped in to rescue the show after an injury to the performer playing Nick Masai. Lucky break for Therry. He was still fresh after playing the role for Northern Light in 2022 and he does the production proud. Then there’s Phillippe Quaziz as Bob Gaudio, the fourth of the Four Seasons. He always looks too old but he can charm and sing a house down. And, with pretty flawless sound from the excellent techs, the four harmonised and delivered all those great old hits: Walk Like a Man, Sherry, My Eyes Adored You, Let’s Hang On, Rag Doll, and more.
If Leanne Savill’s musical direction is right on the ball (nice horn section, too), choreographer Linda Lawson has the dancers looking excellent in cleverly accessible moves. Ditto the singing principals.
Supporting cast lives up to the all-over high standards with ease and, bar one, the American accents.
Sam Wiseman just eats the stage in his cameo as Gyp. Nikki Gaertner Eaton takes Frankie’s wife, Mary Delgado, from bombshell to heartbreak very elegantly and Tom Adams is a winning scene stealer as the great Bob Crewe.
The supporting cast smoothly undertakes myriad multi roles making the show seem bigger than it really is. Nice work all round. Particularly from my mate Jude Hines as director.
I tips me cap.
Samela Harris
When: 9 to 17 Aug
Where: The Arts Theatre
Bookings therry.org.au
Adelaide Festival Theatre. 8 Aug 2024
This revival of a revival of a revival of the classic Broadway musical, Chicago, is older than it ever intended to be.
It has whiskers. It is a 28 year old production and it’s tired, flat and lacklustre. It’s a leftover meal endlessly reheated. The beloved Fosse/Kander/Ebb musical is part Brecht, part vaudeville pastiche and all gritty style. Where once, as in the original production and in the celebrated 1981 Australian production (directed by Richard Wherrett and starring Nancye Hayes, Geraldine Turner, Terence Donovan and George Spartels) it was fresh, scintillating and dazzling in subversion. This production is a damp squib.
Chicago as performed by brilliant teenage tyros for Pelican Productions at the Thebarton Town Hall was vastly preferable to this dull, toothless production.
The show concerns celebrity criminals and the pertinence of that should not be lost in the age of Donald Trump, but it is.
This production has always been hard to look at. It’s boring black on boring black. Read cheap. The choreography is now more fussy than Fosse. Mercifully, we could say Anthony Warlow as the shyster lawyer, Billy Flynn, chews the scenery, if there was any scenery to chew. He is superb and at his inestimable best. This performance has style, wit and chutzpah to burn. Peter Rowsthorn kills as the sad sack Andy - or is it Amos? and gives a peerless and highly memorable performance. S. Valeri as sob sister Mary Sunshine seems to have swallowed Trevor Ashley and Asabi Goodman underwhelms as Matron ‘Mama’ Morton.
The very worst of this show is the central miscasting of Zoë Ventoura as Velma Kelly and the (usually excellent) Lucy Maunder as Roxie Hart. Ventoura seems never to really connect with the audience and she seems to have heavy feet. Maunder’s Roxie just doesn’t register.
Roxie has moxie and bite but Maunder plays her as a simpering, giggly Tammy Faye Bakker - with the eye-makeup to match. These are star parts but herein they sag.
The ensemble works hard but hard work ain’t enough. The onstage band, led by Anthony Barnhill is stunningly good.
Chicago is chockers with hilarious one-liners and lyrics. Scandalously, those great gags are thrown away and lyrics are sometimes inaudible in this paint-by-numbers production. Sad to say, but my companion and I both reached for the gun.
Peter Goers
When: 9 to 31 Aug
Where: Adelaide Festival Centre
Bookings: ticketek.com.au
Blue Sky Theatre productions. 2 Aug 2024
The university years – ah was it just yesterday? For the protagonists of this play, it was the ‘eighties in Northern England although really, apart from the accents, it could have been anytime, anywhere.
Three young women, disparate characters who meet up in the dorms during their first year of university, move in together for the next two years of their respective degrees. Di (Nicole Rutty) is the sporty lesbian who is studying business, Viv (Kate Anolak) is the serious feminist sociologist and Rose (Allison Scharber) is the fun-loving, sex-loving art historian. The assumption here, in accepted ‘house buddy’ fashion, is that they will influence each other, absorbing parts of each personality, but that just doesn’t happen. Instead, they acknowledge each other’s quirks while also calling out concerning behaviors eg Rose’s turnstile of lovers, Di’s lack of lovers and Viv’s sexual diffidence.
The production begins with a physical minimalism: there is no set, and props are passed between each other like relay batons; a phone headpiece here, a folder there. It makes for a quick pace to begin with as the vignettes setting up the narrative come thick and fast. What does become obvious quite quickly is that this play is not a lightweight chick flick. The writing is intelligent and incisive, and while the invariable house party and domestic discord (the laundry!) scenes turn up, they’re tempered by some sharp observations on familial relationships and personal demons.
The progression of time is projected on screen rear of stage; we begin in 1983 and work our way (slowly) through to 2010. As noted however, this could be anytime anywhere. Apart from stamping the time signature with music cues (Madonna, Amii Stewart, Cyndi Lauper et al) there is no reference to the world outside the house. Viv comes forth with a dissertation on corsetry and feminism, a scene which could have (should have?) included a reference, however oblique to the fact that Margaret Thatcher was the current Prime Minister and the first woman to hold that position.
The first act is long - around ninety minutes - and we’re still in the ‘eighties by the end of it, albeit still firmly in the cocoon of the house. The cast works hard and with great reward. Emotional highs and lows keep the audience captivated and Angela Short’s tight production is only let down occasionally by weaknesses in Amelia Bullmore’s script. While some judicious editing is probably in order, particularly in the overly long first act, there are also unanswered questions and dangling threads - what happened to Abby Mathews from the laundromat?
As the production moves into Act Two and the new century, the cast transitions smoothly into the joys and disappointments of growing older, reflecting the physical and emotional toll of separation. Increasingly, the initial gentle motif of boxes becomes more of a metaphor for the changes in their lives and relationships, both binding and fracturing their friendship.
There are wrenching moments that Nicole Rutty handles beautifully, from the powerful, painful howl to the rawness of grief. Kate Anolak grows into her role as Viv, with a masterful monologue near play’s end. Allison Scharber has read Rose to a tee, and we teeter between disapproval and admiration at her life choices, but we’re always entertained by this bright personality.
Di and Viv and Rose is no mere paean to female friendship and in the very capable hands of Blue Sky it is a thoughtful, emotional, entertaining look at love and pain and the whole damn thing.
Arna Eyers-White
When: 2 to 11 Aug
Where: Marion Cultural Centre
Bookings: blueskytheatre.com.au