Undertow

Jasfair and Holden Street Theatres. Holden Street Theatres – The Arch. 12 Mar 2019

 

A couch, a coffee table and a drinks stand invite you into a living room. That’s all that’s needed for early 40s empty nesters Rebecca and James of some soporific suburbia to bat away a few challenges that life has pitched to them in Jasmine Fairbairn’s first play, Undertow. The production comes direct from southeast Queensland where it’s big in its own backyard. Director Simon Denver is artistic director at the Suncoast Repertory Theatre and Clayton Storey (James) is a regular there. Comedian Jasmine Fairbairn (Rebecca) runs Knockoff Comedy at Brisbane Powerhouse and was a major player in Canada’s famous Loose Moose Theatre in Calgary - where Theatresports was invented in 1977. The play and creative team have garnered nine awards at three theatre festivals in the Brisbane region last year for best play, director, and performances. The KSP Theatre Festival thought Storey was funny (best male in a comedic role) and the Sandgate Theatre Festival thought he was more serious (best male in a dramatic role).

 

I can’t see what all the fuss is about. Rebecca and James are simply conventional. The banal banter and awkward body language in the first scene establishes a lack of chemistry in this worn out couple. They hit a baby bump in their complacent slide to middle age and the recriminations and blame abound. There are clichéd rants about the failed vasectomy, the boring boss, and an extravagant reflection on the energy drain of raising kids bordering on regret and selfishness. They mull over the issues, get a little angry, kiss and make up dispassionately, buy a $2000 stroller, complain about that, and so on. Scenes destined for cute are more saccharine than sugar, and tension and suspense are killed in the cradle.

 

The play might have been written in the ‘70s – there is nothing new.   There is not much at stake as they agree to muddle through and make the best of it. And when things happen or change again - sigh, oh well. Rebecca and James finish off where they started – isolated, in a bubble, and back on track to nothing in particular. One was as enervated by the whole experience as they were.

 

David Grybowski

2 Stars

 

When: 12 to 16 Mar

Where: Holden Street Theatres – The Arch

Bookings: adelaidefringe.com.au

Rhys Nicholson

Nice People Nice Things Nice Situations. Adelaide Fringe. Masonic - Phoenix Room at Gluttony. 13 Mar 2019

 

In 'Nice People Nice Things Nice Situations', Rhys Nicholson muses over his impending thirties. Turning 29 is proving to be a reality check; age, domesticity, and 10-year reunions are catching up with him. Nicholson's fur baby is gas-lighting him and opinionated new shoulder hair has appeared out of nowhere. Parenthood looms, along with the anxiety of what kind of parent he might be.

 

These sound like serious topics, but fear not. Nicholson delivers a set of high- and low-brow musings with dry wit and a generous sprinkling of inappropriate anecdotes. He is endearingly awkward and largely rejects the perception that he is (or should be) an upstanding role model for the gay community, preferring instead to tell it like he sees it. It's all very refreshing and funny.  

 

Nicholson's style may not be for everyone, but I don't think he is bothered by this. Nor is this audience member, who laughs from start to finish. With just three more performances, do yourself a favour and join Nicholson in the Masonic Hall for a great night out.

 

Nicole Russo

 

When: 13 to 16 Mar

Where: Masonic - Phoenix Room @ Gluttony

Bookings: adelaidefringe.com.au

Forces Of Nature

Adelaide Festival. Adelaide Town Hall. 12 Mar 2019

 

In an appetite-whetting exposé of the development of the violin-piano sonata, Richard Tognetti and Erin Helyard present two sonatas by Beethoven – Violin Sonata in G, Op.30 No.3, and Violin Sonata in A, Op.47 No.9 ‘Kreutzer’ – and Sonata in B-flat, K.454 by Mozart.

 

In their introductory remarks delivered to a large audience in the warm acoustic of the Adelaide Town Hall, Tognetti and Helyard explain with rakish glints in their eyes that the history of the violin sonata is “…rooted in the mating rituals of the eighteenth-century middle class.” Men of refinement would play the violin while a lady who might be the object of his carnal interest would play the piano. So that she could demonstrate her accomplishments, the piano part would often be more difficult than the violin. The Mozart sonata is of that ilk, while the Beethoven sonatas are progressively leaning towards the two instruments sharing the work load more evenly.

 

Although knowing this little morceau of music history adds to one’s overall enjoyment of the concert, the exquisite musicianship of Tognetti and Helyard is all that ultimately matters. Together they prove that the whole is greater than the sum of the parts: they feed off each other and somehow eclipse their own individual brilliance. Playing physically close to each other neither strove for dominance over the other. They perfectly understand the musical dialogue inherent in each composition, and even in the Mozart, where the piano is arguably more complex, they find a balance that seemingly disguises this. The key lies in their luminous phrasing and artful dynamic balance. Noting that Helyard is playing a fortepiano, which doesn’t produce the same volume (or overtones) as a modern (pianoforte) piano, it is critical that Tognetti doesn’t overpower the violin to the detriment of the musical balance, and neither he did.

 

The highlight of the concert is the Kreutzer. It is almost a pot boiler, and late last year was superbly performed by Natsuoko Yoshimoto and Konstantin Shamary at Ukaria. Tonight’s performance by Tognetti and Helyard is something different again. Features of the composition that are important when played on a modern piano become much less significant when played on a fortepiano. It is fascinating.

 

Helyard is a wonderfully expressive musician, and the joy he experiences at the keyboard is manifestly evident as he smiles at his instrument and at Tognetti. The communication between the two is tangible and intense, and it is uplifting to watch them both as the music unfolds. One almost senses they are discovering the music for the first time, and the audience is along for the ride.

 

One should not pass up a future opportunity to hear Tognetti and Helyard play together. They are indeed ‘forces of nature’.

 

Kym Clayton

 

When: 12 Mar

Where: Adelaide Town Hall

Bookings: Closed

The Second Woman

Adelaide Festival. Space Theatre. 12 Mar 2019

 

No. This cannot, must not be the last airing of this epic theatre work. It is too important. There are too many people who need to see it.

 

The Second Woman is a 24-hour production in which one not only sees an exceptionally accomplished and perspicacious performer but also a series of a hundred vignette performances by men of all ages and backgrounds playing a short but profound scene depicting the termination of a relationship.  The actress is Nat Randall and she has devised this endurance work with Anna Breckon, inspired by a 1977 John Cassavetes film, Opening Night. 

 

Randall, in a Hollywood blonde wig, plays Virginia, a world-weary actress who seeks some confirmation of meaning in her jaded relationship with her husband, Marty. It is just one short scene which opens as attempted reconciliation. Bringing a take-away meal, Marty comes to apologise for his earlier behaviour.  Virginia has been drinking. Marty pours them drinks and, over the box of Chinese noodles, Virginia challenges him for some signs of integrity in their relationship. She wants recognition of her beauty and capability.

 

This brief scene is played over and over, each time with a different unrehearsed man. How each man delivers his prepared lines and responds to opportunities for improvisation provides what turns out to be a breathtaking and, for some, life-changing panorama of the male of the species. The longer one watches, the more evident become the patterns of male response to the woman in crisis and, predominantly, this is a game of power. 

 

The scenes each take five to seven minutes book-ended by Virginia’s patient tidying of the set to loud reiterative piano music. She is on her knees, fastidiously domestic, picking up after the men, putting rubbish in bin, replacing drinking glasses, creating order in her little red room before she sits once again and, with stoic poise, re-establishes her equanimity before the entrance of the next man. 

Then, once again, she walks to the far corner of the little red neon-lit box room set and gazes upwards, her passive expression, not to mention her exquisite movie star beauty, filling the big screen.

 

Two videographers work in symbiosis to deliver the intimacies of this work, thus giving the audience cinematic nuances of expression. As the repetition of scenes evolves, these subtleties become more significant, especially for those audience members able to see large portions of the 24 hours.  Audience members are allowed to come and go. This critic managed two four-hour sessions and found it extremely hard to leave the theatre at all, so utterly compelling had the experience become. One has grown to know Randall’s responses, but never quite to anticipate them. For each man, she has a reactive freshness, even in the early hours of Monday morning when her exhaustion shows through, just for a while, before, after a certain challenging version of Marty, a burst of adrenaline seemed to bring her a fresh wind and hours more extraordinarily focused performance.

 

Randall is able to make almost instant assessments of the arriving men. Thanks to the big screen, one sees her eyes widen or narrow, one sees the dimple of amusement or the bland gaze of resignation. The length of the scenes depends on the man and their interaction: how he makes his entrance, how he pours the drinks, handles the noodles and how he interacts in the final dance. One is aware of the extreme nerves of some of the men and the encouraging looks Randall gives them. She is not so simpatico towards those who try to be too smart or who try to top her.  One soon becomes aware of the ineptitude of modern men, generally. This production showcases a broad ignorance of fundamental etiquette, especially among the young. They serve drinks with their fingers over the rims of glasses.  Few ritualise the drinks with a raised glass, “cheers” or clink. They serve themselves before the woman. Very few indeed show concern when she stumbles. 

 

It is surprising how many of the men seem more interested in the food than in the troubled woman in front of them. They bring takeaway Chinese noodles and chopsticks in a paper bag and are expected to unpack and share them. 

The volunteer men have been told to expect food but not that it is to be thrown in their laps, dropped disdainfully on their heads, draped across their shoulders, tucked into their pockets, squeezed into their hands, spread on their knees…  Different men provoke different noodle treatment, but they all get noodled one way or another. One or two are amused, many are baffled, some are just irked and one or two have difficulty suppressing their ire. 

 

The men come and go. As the hours wear on, there is a rhythm to it. What at first seemed slow, now seems faster: the piano music; the tedious, almost servile cleaning up of the noodled room; Virginia’s interludes sitting on her chair, resigned, patient, in slightly restless limbo.  As the videographers step forward, she rises to take her place. The cameras show a close up on her face. The door opens. Another man enters.

 

Some of them try a bit of power play. In one case, it is quite alarming. The man assumes a vice-like grip around the woman’s waist for the dance and is not releasing her.  Nat Randell is not a small woman. She towers over many of the men and, when it comes to one trying to overpower her, she surprises with her ferocious strength and not only detaches the clamped man’s iron grip but then brings him to the ground, pins him down, and keeps him there. It is a serious humiliation for this volunteer who seems to be seething with anger and shame. She gives him a little time to recover before she resumes the script, proffering a $50 and cooly commanding: "Marty, I think you should leave.”

Most men take the money. They have a choice of finishing the scene with “I love you” or “I never loved you”. Over 8 hours, it seems to fall about 50/50.

 

As audience members leave, remaining audience members change seats to get the best vantage points right in front of the little boxed red room with its softly veiled front and deep red curtains. People start to talk to each other between the scenes. Endurance brings bonding. Were you here last night? How many hours have you done? They compare love-hate emotions towards the men. They recognise some of the men coming to sit in the house after their appearances. They also recognise one man who was in the house and is now on stage. Preparation was not an advantage; he does not fare well with Randall. A professional actor turns up. With all that stage experience, the only way he shines is on his exit. He lingers with true regret.

 

One over-keen young blade, bare footed and in baseball cap, falls to the knees to make the entrance apology. Ham, thinks the audience. They’ve seen them come and they’ve seen them go. They’ve seen them strive. They’ve seen them embarrassing themselves. They have seen them bare their true characters. They have loved some of them. They might have applauded but rule number one of The Second Woman is “no applause”.

 

As the hours roll on, the largely female audience grows closer and closer to Randall, reading the nuances of her expression, gasping, sighing, laughing with her and for her. Their empathy is total.  She seeks the confirmation that they secretly or not, have sought in relationships. Her exasperation is their exasperation. She has become "everywoman”. And this profound, shared experience will remain with us for ever.

 

One wants to tell the world. One wants everyone to have seen it.

But Randall has said it will not be done again.

We who were there consider ourselves very fortunate.

And, once again, we thank our Festival of Arts for delivering such rare jewels of theatre.

 

Samela Harris

 

When: 10 to 11 Mar

Where: Space Theatre

Bookings: Closed