Friday Five: Light and Dark Theatre Productions

1. The 39 Steps - N.U.T.S., Ralph Wilson Theatre: Exactly what one might expect of a student production; their friends and family will love it, and everyone involved will be thoroughly pleased with themselves. For someone without connection to the participants it drags, despite some of the delivery being too shrill and fast to be intelligible, and some of the performances tip into self-indulgence. There are too many unearned pauses and lack of comedic understanding. James Seymour in the lead role of Richard Hannay is the only one who looks like they know what they are doing - basically trying to entertain an audience and further a plot - despite the lack of direction and focus-pulling from the rest of the cast. Extensive breaks for set changes between scenes are unnecessary and lose the frenetic energy the piece should have, making it instead an exercise in drama school self-satisfaction. The famous hat scene was chaotic and not in a good way. I agree with the line, 'Just get on with it'.
2. Helios - Wright and Grainger, The Courtyard: The collaboration of Alex Wright (words) and Phil Grainger (music) brings modern interpretations of Greek myth to a global audience, via Yorkshire. Helios and Selene played on alternate nights and back-to-back and, with each show calling in at about an hour, you can experience them both in an evening, which is what I did, starting with Helios. The myth, attributed to Euripides, concerns Helios, whose winged-horse chariot draws the sun across the sky each day, and his son, Phaeton, who insists he be allowed a go, only to find his abilities do not match his bravado, as he loses control of the steeds and the chariot threatens to plunge to earth. Of course, Zeus intervenes and strikes Phaeton down with a lightning bolt. Here, one man, Alexander Wright himself, commands the stage, standing in a sacred circle of lightbulbs and connecting with the audience as he tells us his story. It is as simple as that, and yet an incredibly enriching experience. He weaves a narrative of fast cars and teenagers, boasts, dares and risk, loss of concentration, and blinding sunrises on bridges. The bond between a busy father and a stroppy son is all too real and utterly heartbreaking. As he literally invites the listeners into his tale (handing out printed sheets for them to read when he needs another voice for a character), he proves that storytelling is an art and, when done well, it is absolutely spellbinding.
3. Selene - Wright and Grainger, The Courtyard: And as night follows day, we come to Selene, the sibling show. It is gloriously calm and strong, described as 'a story about the goddess and the dark side of the moon'. As in the previous show, it focuses more on the offspring than the titular god, in this case, Pandida (known in her youth as Panda), the daughter of Zeus and the moon goddess, Selene. Her coming-of-age tale involves scholastic arguments with boys, a profound interest in the moon landings, midnight moonlight swims, night clubbing raves, and the majesty of an eclipse. Megan Drury is the performer who guides and supports us through this story, with warmth and compassion in what is a deeply tender and transformative experience. 
4. Playback (Or, a Play About But Not Starring a Famous Politician) - The Street Presents (Resident Street Program), Street 2: In childhood development, 'playback' refers to how children process, practice, and replicate experiences through play. This cycle allows them to make sense of the world by reenacting real-life scenarios, testing rules, and consolidating their cognitive, linguistic and social skills. In theatre terms, playback refers to an interactive style of improvisational theatre in which audience members share real-life personal stories and watch actors enact them on the spot. This play draws on the playwright's (Tom Glassey) experience working in the Canberra press gallery and explores how media framing, editing, soundbites and deconstruction of truth shape modern politics. Blending traditional stage elements, live-video projections and screen editing, the production captures the media landscape in a totally engrossing manner. Deborah Grant who was 'aged out' of broadcast television now hosts the Proper Gander podcast and has the opportunity to interview Scott Morrison. She has painstakingly prepared and has questions she is determined he will not evade. She is assisted by a Young Man who turns up wanting to be an intern but with no apparently relevant skills and who threatens to be more hindrance than help. Casting Andrea Close as Deborah is a stroke of genius - as well as being a fantastic actor, she was also a journalist and presenter for the ABC for a decade and subsequently a media and communications manager for several high-level organisations. Her understanding of the inherent manipulations and machinations is confident and captivating, bringing both pathos and humour to the role that reveals the personal face of federal politics. Meanwhile, Tyker Jenkins is a quick-witted foil to her anguish, his improvisation skills perfectly suited to the chameleon character of the unprincipled ambitious apprentice, or the many faces of the former PM. Criag Alexander's direction is as tight and slick as the videography which highlights and supplements the on-stage action to deliver a resoundingly good play. Full disclosure: I was involved in an initial workshop of this play back in December 2024, so it is fascinating to see how far it has grown.
5. The Good Boy Game - Q the locals, The Q: An interesting play, but the production lacked any cohesion or vision with certain style elements (mainly sound) prioritised over substance (acting and theatrical unity). A young man, James (Alastair McKenzie) writes in his diary that he wishes to kill his classmates, so his parents, Mary-Beth (Giuliana Baggoley) and Sam (Bruce Hardie) lock him in the loft and try to de-radicalise his teenage urges. Meanwhile, Mary-Beth is seeing a counsellor, Judith (Elaine Noon), who suggests she try a points-based reward system - the Good Boy Game of the title - to encourage James to more acceptable behaviour. Apparently, this is a world premiere of a new work by Petrick Vermillion, so the overwhelming similarities with Bartek Bartosik and Naqqash Khalid's script for the film, Good Boy must be entirely coincidental. Baggoley and Hardie have limited rapport and barely seem to be listening to the other actors; McKenzie is suitably entitled and whiny (albeit with diction and projection issues) but lacking in strength, anger and threat, and Noon has an intelligence and commitment to the character which is in such contrast to the others that she seems to be in a different play. The set delineates the spaces well although much of the decisive action is at the back of the stage, and garage/ grunge intros to scenes are highlighted with projections of time and place. Unfortunately, it smacks of enfant-terrible-directing (Caitlin Baker); wanting to be provocative but unable to translate into a clear vision. There are too many disparate elements to make a harmonious production. Reading the play opens up many avenues of enquiry – this production doesn’t follow any of them through.

COVID-19: Dreaming is Free

Stories are my saviour. Whether told on the page, stage, screen (large or small) or radio, they inspire, enlighten, challenge and comfort me. It may not be the best idea to be watching World on Fire at the moment, but last night we watched the final episode of the first series. The series is set during the Second World War in France, Germany, Poland and the U.K. and it follows several families and characters from 1939-1940. It's tough to watch at times (and there seem to be a few anachronisms in terms of speech and accent), but it is well acted and sufficiently tense and dramatic to keep me involved.

I am tempted to see parallels with our current global situation, and slightly reassured that I 'mustn't grumble: things could be worse'. No one is shooting at me, or trying to bomb me, or threatening to hang me because I am the 'wrong' race, colour, ability, sexuality or political persuasion. Not yet, anyway: I don't live in America - cheap jibe, sorry. But there is a preponderance of panic buying, propaganda, misinformation, uncertainty and an extremely rapid pace of change. Life (and death) goes on in altered circumstances; people still get born; get married; fall in love; fall out... not necessarily in that order. And like World War II, those in the midst of it have no idea of when and how it will finish. Trust me, I've just seen the last episode of World on Fire and there is no satisfying sense of closure - sorry if that's a spoiler.

Our COVID-19 situation also sees leadership, and the lack thereof. Boris has been chewing his way through speeches by Churchill and Plato and now emerges blinking from his shabby chrysalis as a somewhat unlikely statesman; Prince-Hal-like, the foppish fool has sobered up to face the future. Jacinda is calm and firm; just and fair, dealing with a hideous situation with sense and sensibility. Scotty is floundering about like a lumpfish in shallow water but out of its depth. Make some decisions; be bold and resolute; lead!

In Australia we are told that schools are 'pupil-free' but they remain open and no one is turned away. We are told that only essential services should remain open - yet many businesses have not been made to close, so people are still heading to the office, hoping for a gold star from the boss. We are not allowed to gather so theatres, cinemas, gyms, pubs, clubs and restaurants have been closed. Art galleries and museums are choosing to close. There is no statewide ban on beaches, although people are 'advised not go' - yep, we've all seen how well people are following those guidelines.

Hairdressers and beauty salons are still open - it's important to look good in your coffin, apparently - but no one will be there to see you. Churches and places of worship are closed except to very small gatherings; weddings and funerals are not allowed indoors except in small groups observing the one person per four square metres rule. I am a sporadic church-goer; my places of worship are hills and woods and the great outdoors. I worship a mixture of myth and religion - I would like to believe in a golden thread that we can follow out of this darkness into the light once more.

I do usually go to church at Christmas, Easter, and Whitsun, however: they are the significant touchstones of my faith. This year, I will not be attending live services, but I will be commemorating the occasion in my way. Many people are suggesting ways to occupy their time in isolation (although Australia has not moved to this yet, and people are still congregating in entirely unnecessary groups); one of my pass-times is cross-stitch. I have been stitching little Easter designs of baskets and bunny rabbits, surrounded by eggs and flowers.

All this is probably what informed my dream last night in which I was trying to stitch together a Polish fabric that had been destroyed by Germany. It was my duty to reconnect the border by unpicking the existing stitches and working them back into an unbroken line with a golden thread. I believe our dreams are important - not in a Freudian way, but because they are a coping mechanism in which the brain shuffles events and tries to impart some meaning. My bible is the bard, and I find words to fit every event in his plays and poetry. And so it is with dreams, which come to us in sleep:

"Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast."

I know I have employed that quote before (it's one of my favourite, from one of my favourite plays), so here's something else that's been on my mind.