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
