Episode Two: Those Who Find Happiness After Suffering
Boccaccio’s The Decameron was 100 tales long and, it seems, our State Theatre/ActNow Theatre counterpart promises the equivalent. This means we have just got going. There is a lot more hiding-from-the-plague storytelling to go, and suddenly, one is overcome by the incredible ambitiousness of this plan.
One also thrills at the audaciously generous spirit it asserts. It is a showcase, a playground, and a challenge for a strong cohort of South Australian creatives: from Edwin Kemp Atrill directing the photography of this stream of professional online vignettes to a string of writers stretching their wings, as well as actors and directors.
This is historic stuff. Brave enterprise. The positive out of the negative. The covid collateral.
This week’s chain of tales is a little more up and down than the first set.
Where it is good it is superb.
Of course, there are horses for courses. Each item reaches out from a different soul to a different audience appreciation so generalisations are a bit dangerous.
From this critic’s perspective, the stand-out pieces of the ten include Sally Hardy’s Von, performed by Caroline Mignone and directed by Yasmin Gurreeboo. Von holds a cup of tea at an abstracted funeral gathering while she reflects over loss and the expectations of others. She dares to confide that she feels more relief than grief at this death. She should feel otherwise but, secretly, she just feels release. And so it is for many oppressed and dominated women. Mignone delivers both the character and the message with her usual professional aplomb. Voice and delivery are spot-on, as is Hardy’s brave script, capturing a decidedly tricky subject, and ending it with a simply delicious punch-line.
Most of these Decameron pieces so far have been meditative monologues but Jamie Hornsby’s Michelle has a proper plot. Michelle, played all in white by Miranda Daughtry, tells the tale of a stolen story. It is not unknown for writers to use the experiences of others but, here, it is pain which has become the literary commodity and Michelle expresses the sense of betrayal seeing the writer soaking up the spoils of success. Clara Solly-Slade has given this work rather distracting direction, setting the character in a bed on the floor and allowing an assortment of camera angles. But Daughtry’s performance and the strength of the narrative surmount the distractions to make a potent and memorable piece.
One cannot and does not have to like all the characters in The Decameron.
For instance, J’Maine, written by Alexis West and performed by Jack Buckskin, is a man in jail for an act of appalling domestic violence. He’s First Nation and speaks in a torrent of coarse argot as he contemplates the importance of being connected to Country. He knows he is in for a long incarceration and will have to live with the image of what he did, but he hopes to stay clean and healthy in the future. It is a harsh little piece on a sadly familiar theme. Buckskin plays it strong and straight. Even though it strives valiantly for optimism, it leaves one sad.
Indeed, there is a lot of sadness running through these pieces. The old woman, Anja, written by Alex Vickery-How and performed by Carmel Johnson and directed by Mitchell Butel, reflects and philosophises on love and hate and the horrors of Europe during WWII. Her description of Hitler’s followers and the silenced media is chilling and, of course, one sees the Trumpian parallel. The staging is a bit stodgy and the softly accented delivery is very measured. But the ending, oh, the ending; the strange ways that beauty finds its way into the darkest places.
Saba is perhaps the most animated character in this set. She is written by Nelya Valamanesh, performed by Manal Younus and directed, again, by Butel. She’s a here and now character and she has caught not Covid-19 but the perverse conspiracy-minded fake-news disease. To which end, she is played blithely smug and sensibly unlikeable.
Ellie by Kiara Milera is an odd piece and a hard performance challenge for wonderful Elaine Crombie. She plays an old chook in a dressing gown having a party post-mortem on the phone. It is filled with such everyday minutiae that one is relieved when the phone goes flat.
One is not sure that Rhys Stewart is the right person to play Ben Brooker’s Josip. Then again, it is a tough piece to play as dialogue. It strikes one more as a prose poem; lyrical, eloquent and full of richly beautiful turns of phrase, but not credible from a young person in a hoodie. Anna-Paula Jettick, written and performed by Arran Beattie is another oddity. It is a melange of interviews with drag queens. Valerie Berry has written and performed Lucy with direction from Edwin Kemp Atrill. The direction is strong, less static than many, but the character is not. Finally, there is Matt, written by Emily Steel and performed by James Smith. He’s an Aussie actor in New York, definitely a failed actor but full of a desperation of undying optimism. It is about audition pieces and Smith gives his performance very much the spirit of that very thing.
And there ends this week's ride of the ten. The whole project is laudable and very challenging as monologue for the actors. State and ActNow have well used their time hiding from the plague.
If anything is lacking so far, it is levity.
The original The Decameron stories tended to be rather raunchy, heretical, daring, and funny.
We shall see if any of these characteristics emerge in the ensuing chapters.
Samela Harris
Covid online theatre
Access: statetheatre.com.au
Those Who Make Sacrifices. State Theatre of SA and ActNow Theatre. YouTube. Jul 2020
Hiding from the Black Death in the 14th Century, a group of ten killed time by telling each other stories; ten stories each. This, famously, was the conceit of the Italian writer Boccaccio, and his ensuing book, The Decameron, was heralded as one of the finest works of Italian prose of its time.
In my time, it was a very naughty tome indeed, full of very ribald tales. It was even banned for a while. And then, ever so quietly, it drifted onto the back pages of literary history.
Until now.
Now it is us hiding from a pandemic. It is us trying to entertain each other to pass the long, uncertain time during sequestration. And, the arts is reviving The Decameron concept with a vengeance.
Early on as we hibernated, there was a wonderful Zoom production called What Do We Need to Talk About from Richard Nelson’s Zoom Theatre in the US, for example.
But our own Mitchell Butel and State Theatre, with ActNow, have taken the idea to a higher level and made it a major, multi-faceted arts exercise devoted to the theme of life in a time of plague.
The first section of the South Australian Decameron was released on YouTube this week and there are more to follow. There are ten vignettes, each created by a different writer and performed, accordingly, with appropriately cast actors and directors. They each are aesthetically minimalist and filmed with expert production values. Each represents a solitary soul ruminating or perhaps fulminating over the status quo. They are, of course, as diverse as humankind and, between them, they tap into some of the most pertinent issues of our time: ageing, loneliness, race, and gender. There is something for everyone and more to come.
These self-contained cameo works each require a special “all” from the actors since they are not mere monologues but intense, closely focused solo pieces requiring absolute focus, characterisation, and outreach. They stretch a performer in the same way, perhaps, as audition pieces need to do, showcasing the nuances of expression and intonation. And, by the new nature of solitary audience members focused on solitary players, they evoke an unprecedented scrutiny and intimacy.
To which cause, each brave actor has the support of a professional director from the two production companies.
It is unfair to single out pieces but one, of course, finds favourites.
Elaine Crombie, for example, in Alexis West’s Teahrnah, simply ravages the soul in a powerful, beautiful, and brilliantly balanced performance. She presents as an ordinary woman, a First Nations mum juggling the logistics of being nanna, managing kids, and going out from iso for the essential shopping. It is a heavenly characterisation and a heavenly performance. One falls in love with her. And so very understated, so very fatalistically, as directed by the playwright, she tells the story. Mask on, careful driver. And, oh dear, she really hadn’t thought about it. Disaster, as the cops pull her over. And here comes the phrase “I can’t breathe”. It is a perfect ending to the ten beautiful pieces.
It bookends nicely with Grace, the Decameron 2 opener written by Emily Steel. The inimitable Carmel Johnson plays Grace, a grandmother talking on Zoom to her granddaughter. It is a bit of a pep talk for the pandemic, a bit of grandma philosophy and positivity, and the story of her life, which turns out to be like the disappointing tales of so many women whose lives have been dedicated to making everyone around them happy. It is very well told by Johnson and directed by Mitchel Butel and it has a stunning ending.
Created by Sally Hardy is Wren, portrayed by Miranda Daughtry, a wonderful actress who, very nicely directed by Clara Solly-Slade, shines as the disillusioned vegan who has not managed to keep up with the fertile world around her. It is a bitterly funny piece, a hymn for and against veganism and performed with delicious ironic panache.
Another notable is Ben Brooker’s June which is performed by the elegant Caroline Mignone in warm black coat leaning against a wall in a particularly grotty warehouse setting. The prop on the scene is a bottle of hand sanitiser. June reflects on what’s left in life while her little city shop struggles against the emptiness of Covid retreat as the days crawl by. She misses the pavement population, Mary the mad evangelist, and ponders the place of faith in a pandemic. Brooker has made her exceptionally articulate and, although one can’t imagine a troubled shopkeeper saying it, it pleases the literary soul to hear the phrase “words which sluiced through her arteries”.
Among the other fine works, there are thoughtful tributes to gender dysphoria, Islam, racism, and health, as well as to the issues which surround us. Jack Buckskin delivers a riveting Welcome to Country and later performs a piece by Kyron Weetra.
Writers include Matcho Cassidy, Alex Vickery-Howe. Manal Younos, Penn O’Brien, and Sarah Peters.
There’s a swag of directors and a wealth of talent. Out of the plague, it’s a starburst of creative excellence. And there’s more to come.
Samela Harris
Covid Online Theatre
Access: statetheatrecompany.com.au
The Adelaide Repertory Theatre. Online Production via YouTube. 28 Jun 2020
You can’t keep a good theatre company down. The dear old Rep may have a long way to go in terms of new-era online technology, but it has bitten the bullet and had a jolly good go.
And, to add gloss to the kudos, it has done so in the name of youth and our upcoming talent.
Rounds of applause.
Geoff Brittain directed this new online production which had a very well promoted “opening night” at 7PM on Saturday June, 27th. Well, 7:10PM, to be precise. Who knows why the upload was delayed.
But there it was with its youthful cast and its disturbing story of drug-addled teens and country kids feeling hopeless and out of the loop.
Rattling the Keys has been written by young local playwright Zoe Muller and is set in Coober Pedy. It depicts a group of friends who are at a turning point in life, riven by family loyalties and a quest for education and a future in Adelaide. A neighbour has died. Did one of these meth-heads do it and not recall? It does not make a pretty picture of life in Coober Pedy. Indeed, not only does it depict angry young men ravaged by meth and heroin but also, and rather graphically, a town plagued by heat and aggressive mosquitos.
This is a debut play by Zoe Muller and it won the 2018 Young Playwright of the Year Award from State Theatre and Flinders University. It was presented on stage earlier in the year at The Mill under auspices of Deadset Theatre.
Critics noted that The Mill’s claustrophobic stage space enhanced the mood of the play and it must be said that the social distancing expanses on the big stage in this Rep production does quite the opposite. It takes some time to identify who is where as the camera sweeps across couches and through a door to somewhere. One understands that the performance was filmed in two sessions and edited together. One wonders why the company did not realise in the process that it is not working and that the sound is so far out of kilter it is often offensively deafening or muffled, with extraneous onstage sounds intrusive.
The camerawork has not followed the examples of the many stage companies whose filmed archive productions have been streaming online during the pandemic. Some of these have been simply spellbinding, deflating the old argument that stage plays cannot be translated to film. We have had for example: Griffin Theatre’s Emerald City; Sydney Theatre Company/Malthouse with Michael Gow’s Away; and the many offerings of theshowmustgoon line YouTube channel. Digitised versions of live theatre have come to the fore, along with iso-special theatre productions on Zoom. A new skillset is evolving.
Meanwhile, as the narrative of Rattling the Keys evolves and the histrionics lessen, some acceptable performances emerge, most particularly that of the playwright herself. Muller is really quite engaging in the role of Arcadia, the stoic sister of troubled addict Teddy. He, on the other hand, comes across in an assault of shouting as performed by Henry Solomon. Matilda Butler charms as the nice girl, Billy, a character devised to inject hope into the grim world of isolated adolescence. Albert Ngo also achieves some balance as Kai and Alex Whitrow shows the needed glimmer of decency as Ashton. But much of the performance seems to be pushing against the odds and one wishes the director could have reined the actors in.
This play speaks well for the passions of aspiring playwrights. It is a passionate, youthful achievement in this hardest of arts. It will be interesting to see where Muller goes from here.
While the Rep has made a brave attempt at the evolving genre, it is clearly a learning curve. Future productions are promised on its YouTube channel and one waits with growing expectations. Every month, a new show.
Bookmark the channel and make sure to subscribe.
Samela Harris
When: Online for one month from 27 Jun
Where: YouTube Link
Bookings: Free; donations welcomed – Link
Adelaide Festival. Opera Ventures, Scottish Opera, Houston Grand Opera & Théâtre national de l’Opéra-Comique, in association with Adelaide Festival. Adelaide Festival Theatre. 15 Mar 2020.
Directed by Tom Morris, Breaking the Waves is this year’s headline opera event of the Adelaide Festival. It has much to commend it, but it doesn’t fully hit the mark and many audience members left somewhat dissatisfied.
Breaking the Waves is a modern three act opera based on Danish film director Lars von Trier’s 1996 film of the same name. This reviewer has not seen the film, but is firmly of the view that irrespective of the opera’s provenance it must stand on its own as a piece of performance art regardless of any back-story. Unhappily, it does not, and any interest and dramatic tension that is created at the start falls away only to be regained mid-way through the final act.
The story line follows Bess who falls in love with, and marries, Jan, a fly-in/fly-out oil rig worker. Bess lives on the Isle of Skye and is subject to the social mores of a strict Presbyterian upbringing. By contrast, Jan is a foreigner and the local church elders do not approve of the marriage. Not long after the wedding, Jan sustains critical injuries in a work accident and is repatriated to the mainland for intensive and protracted medical treatment. It is not certain that he will ever recover and he is concerned for the emotional welfare of Bess, to the extent that he encourages her to seek out liaisons with other men. She is at first reluctant but is persuaded by him and thus begins her slide into emotional decay. The most uncomfortable aspect of this part of the plot is that Jan wants Bess to give him a full description of her sexual encounters so that he might continue to enjoy a sex life of sorts with Bess, at least vicariously.
This key feature of the plot is ‘uncomfortable’ because the libretto lacks sufficient substance that might encourage the audience to actually believe that Jan’s request of Bess is in any way socially acceptable. The opera presents it in a matter-of-fact fashion with only some resistance from Bess. We already know at the outset that Bess has suffered deep psychological scars at the death of her brother, but now we wonder whether she has deeper persistent problems, and whether Jan might also be significantly ‘troubled’. Whether this is actually a sub plot or not, it has an unconvincing genesis.
The success of any opera relies on its libretto and score, of course. Missy Mazzoli’s orchestral score is quite superb, with interesting instrumentation that strongly features percussion and also includes electric guitar and synthesizer. However, the tone of the score often conflicts with the libretto, such as sweeping legato melodies accompanying arias depicting profound human distress and torment. This does not help sustain a suspension of disbelief. However, in the third act, when the council of elders cast Bess out of the church – in a scene that is the dramatic highlight of the whole opera - it really is stunning. The music to which the male chorus is set is all of a sudden fully complementary to the context of libretto and, from an audience perspective, it becomes much easier to engage with. This of course is not to suggest that the whole thing needs to be more melodramatic – it does not, and Mazzoli and librettist Royce Vavrfek have worked assiduously to avoid that – but the libretto and score do not always work together despite each other’s inventiveness.
As Bess, American soprano, Sydney Mancasola is outstanding. She rarely leaves the stage, if at all, and gives a bravura performance in both acting and vocals. Bess is always at the centre of attention, and Mancasola is equal to the task. Australian baritone Duncan Rock is imposing as Jan. He is totally believable as an irresistible sexual force, and his warm and resonant voice negotiates the challenges of the score with apparent effortlessness.
Mancasola and Rock are well supported by Wallis Giunta (playing Dodo, Bess’s sister in law), Elgan Llŷr Thomas (Jan’s attending physician), and especially Orla Boylan, as Bess’s uncompromising but devoted mother. Francis Church and David Lynn are convincing as the brutal sailors who menace Bess. Byron Jackson gives a credible performance as one of Jan’s knock-about friends. Freddie Tong looks menacing and imperious as the principal church elder, but occasionally struggles with maintaining evenness across the vocal range of the score. The male chorus is outstanding throughout the production.
Soutra Gilmour’s single set design is visually striking and one of the most evocative and effective this reviewer has ever seen on any operatic stage. It comprises thirteen angular rectangular pillars set on a revolve stage. As it rotates, it variously becomes a range of locations including a church council chamber, a wedding reception, a ship’s prow, a hospital ward, a dingy street, and an oil rig. Richard Howell’s superb and incisive lighting design (including lighting projections that are not credited in the program) allowed the set to become all these things in the blink of an eye.
The musical ensemble comprises soloists from the Orchestra of the Scottish Opera and is led by conductor Stuart Stratford. Aural balance is maintained throughout, and vocalists are never overshadowed. Because of the conflicting qualities of the score and the libretto, it is likely that the overall effect may be enhanced if some instruments are foregrounded to enhance the counterpoint in the music.
The ending of the opera, like its start, is visually and musically affecting, but not enough to finally send the audience home wanting to seek out a CD recording or to want to see it again.
Kym Clayton
When: 15 Mar
Where: Festival Theatre
Bookings: Closed
★★★
Adelaide Fringe. Platform Academy. Nexus Arts – Lions Arts Centre. 12 Mar 2020
If you want to see a Broadway musical in the making, this is the ticket. Danny Ginges wrote a bunch of songs about the development of, and moral considerations about, the atomic bomb - as you do - and teamed up with composer Philip Foxman to create this fetching, informative, flowing and entertainingly thoughtful musical. The Sydney-siders managed to mount the whole shebang off-Broadway for a six-week season, but to actually get onto Broadway, well, they got that it needs a bit of tweaking. So the show is being performed by local theatre companies around Australia as Ginges and Foxman fly a few ideas up the flagpole and see who salutes. This Fringe production – attended by Ginges and Foxman – is directed by Kim Spargo who puts on the stage the youthful talent she is training in the Platform Academy – a performance arts training school that she founded in 2013.
The narrative arc follows the trajectory of the brilliant Leo Szilard who was instrumental in developing practical nuclear physics. He left Nazi Germany to eventually work on the Manhattan Project which developed the bomb. Szilard is the ideal protagonist for his conflicted views and actions concerning science and ethics.
The opening scene of raincoat-clad commuters fretting over their morning newspapers with atomic bomb anxiety in 1945 immediately connected me with current concerns over the coronavirus. Perfect timing, Kim! For a kind-of cerebral subject, Spargo perfectly manifests the kinetic energy that inhabits the book and songs. So much so, that the frequent tender moments between Szilard and his much put-upon wife seemed like a hand brake. The songs are typically short and snappy, well-contextualised into the narrative, and set to, well, not exactly rock music - it’s not Jesus Christ Superstar - but more what you expect for rock musicals these days. Mind you, there wasn’t a live orchestra.
Spargo did a lot with little set furniture, and props, costumes and hair more than adequately portrayed the ‘40s. Importantly, scene changes were swift and snappy. Lighting was important and well done although an opportunity was missed when the test bomb went off in New Mexico, and the flash and following rumble was poorly responded to by the observers. Spargo naturally cast mainly (or solely) from her students and they are a bunch developing at different rates of accomplishment. A compelling and authentic figure was Will Richards’ Paul Tippets, but it took a gander at the program to realise he was the pilot of the bomber that dropped the bomb on Hiroshima. Bravo for a terrific new musical!
David Grybowski
When: 11 to 14 Mar
Where: Nexus Arts – Lions Arts Centre
Bookings: adelaidefringe.com.au