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| The cast in Never Closer: from left, Breanna Kelly, Natasha Lyall, Pippin Carroll, Joel Hrbek and Emily O'Mahoney |
- Never Closer - Off the Ledge Theatre, The Courtyard Studio: This is a solid play set in Northern Ireland during the Troubles when a friendship group is on the brink of exploring a wider world, and again ten years later when they reconnect for Christmas Eve as they always used to do, except this time one of them brings along their fiancé, and he's English. Director Lachlan Houen has assembled a great ensemble of actors with whom he clearly works well. He is bold in his directing choices, although this occasionally misses the mark, and there are some issues of pace where actors hit one note and stay there. Emily O'Mahoney as Deirdre is the only one with a credible Northen Ireland accent, although she wrings every ounce of bitterness out of her position as the one left behind who feels she has to martyr herself with folded arms and closed off physicality. Joel Hrbek is cute in the role of Jimmy - reassuring in his presence and warmth - whereas Nick Bisa plays the polar opposite, Conor, with monochromatic rage. Although Niamh, has arguably made the biggest change (in going to England and embracing the life and culture across the Irish Sea) she is possibly the least developed character of the play and consequently Natasha Lyall plays her with even delivery that is perhaps a little too measured. Breanna Kelly brings energy and sincerity to the role of Mary, in exactly the same way that she did to her character in You Tell My Mum I'm Dead, the previous production in which I saw her here, and I'd like to see something else. Pippin Carrol is sublime in the role of Harry, the odd one out, and for every English person who has ever been blamed for their government's choices, I feel your pain! The set design (Lachlan Houen, Sophie Hope-White, Liah Naidoo, Anna Lorenz) is appropriately busy, signifying the hoarding elements of an ancestral home without being cluttered, and while the ambient sound (Marlene Radice) enhances the production, the blast of the bomb needs to be a lot louder. Sight-lines are compromised whenever a character sits on the floor, and the costumes are not era-appropriate. The play makes me question who gets to tell whose story? This is an Australian playwright writing about an extremely sensitive Irish/ British experience produced by an Australian team in Canberra, and it just feels slightly off.
- The Taming of the Shrew - Lakespeare, Belconnen Arts Centre: Director Karen Vickery has created the staging for outdoor performances but I saw it indoors (because I get annoyed by distractions), and it worked very well there too with the lakeland backdrop. The world created is big, bold, comic and colourful with grand gestures and gags, while costumes (Helen Wotja) and millinery (Rachel Henson) are extravagant and coordinated to households to help identity - the hats are a particular delight. Voices are generally loud and clear without shouting or straining, and all the action is through words and deeds rather than props (with the admirable exception of hobby horses) or set. There are four entrances on the diagonal, allowing cast to appear from multiple angles, and the only concession to set is a table for height (or hiding beneath). The gender switching works well, removing the violence, misogyny and general 'ick' often found in this play, replaced with a more playful rough and tumble. Ylaria Rogers is excellent and expressive as Petruchia, and when she catches Michael Cooper's arm as he goes to hit her in his role of Christopher/ Kit and states calmly and firmly, 'do not strike me', it feels powerful and statesman-like. Cooper, meanwhile, is sulky and petulant as Kit rather than aggressive and spiteful, and he elicits sympathy instead of censure for his behaviour. When pretending to be someone else, the characters drop nods and winks as they add a skirt or a sash, with Anneke van der Velde Trania ('disguised' as Lucentia) being particularly good at this deception, engaging with the audience where others have some fear of eye contact. Always a joy to watch, Yanina Clifton takes both fun and weariness in being Grumia, the clown, who is very much the bridge between the actors' world of wealth and privilege and us, the normal folk.
- Shakespeare in Love - Mockingbird Theatre, The Rehearsal Room: The play by Lee Hall is adapted from the film by Marc Norman and Tom Stoppard which we all loved thirty (yes, thirty) years ago. If you're thinking sumptuous costumes, swooning chemistry and delectable staging, think again. Director Chris Baldock has taken on an ambitious project to fit all the actors on stage - there are 23 of them in all - and the result is messy (and I've seen the dressing room, which must have been even more crowded). There is a greatly varied standard of acting from experienced senior actors to students from Mockingbird acting classes. Tom Cullen displays a range of emotion as Shakespeare and is adept at dialogue and supporting his scene partners. Unfortunately, although Asha Forno looks the part of Viola de Lesseps, she hasn't got the necessary gravitas and presence; similarly James Phillips as Christopher (Kit) Marlowe lacks the swagger and charisma demanded of the role. Liz St Clair Long revels in the regality and narcissism of Queen Elizabeth, whereas Bruce Hardie as Lord Wessex is underused and looks uncomfortable being there, as if he has tried his best but given up with some the more self-indulgent cast members. Sian Harrington stands out as the Nurse, Sachin Nayak as Lord Edmund Tilney gives a strong and grounding performance, and Rob Karlen enjoys dressing up and playing the foolish pretend nurse. Many of the witty one-liners and Shakespearean allusions are discarded without due consideration. It's hard to do comedy well, and this production merely highlights just how hard that can be. It may be a brave attempt but it falls short of the high standards set by Mockingbird and ultimately disappoints.
- Emma Holland: The Dog Dies at the Start - The Street Presents Canberra Comedy Festival, Street One: Don't say you weren't warned; the trigger warning is in the title. This is almost a one-act play rather than a comedy routine, and Emma Holland rearranges the sparse set to make it larger and smaller as one feels when mourning the death of a pet. Using visual aids such as a screen and a clicker, she builds a world of her domestic circumstances, frquently having a laugh at her long-suffering mother's expense. The show explores the nature of grief in both a humorous and heartfelt way. Holland has a charming rapport with the audience, and she rambles and weaves the narrative on an extremely circuitous and deceptive route before concluding with a satisfactory ending like a true shaggy dog story should.
- Lloyd Langford: Okay, I Believe You - Canberra Comedy Festival, The Playhouse: Lloyd's laconic style is belied by his mischievous eyes, wicked grin and the sense that he never takes himself too seriously. It may seem effortless to string a series of unrelated anecdotes and observations together, but he handles them with precision timing, apart from one instance when he is disturbed by a random snort (potentially laughter) from the audience. Some young drunken types found his accent pants-wettingly hilarious, which manifested in inane shrieks and performative outbursts at innocuous words like Hobart or dragon. Yep, he's Welsh, get over it. That aside, it's a joy to listen to a man at the top of his game riff on subjects as varied as Katy Perry, picking fights in playgrounds and cafes, and his mistrust of the cloud (he envisages it as the sickly-scented fumes left behind by an adolescent vaper, so that's unsurprising). His wife and daughter feature as topics in his show, not in any mawkish manner but in an entirely natural, they're-just-a-big-part-of-my-life sort of way. And there are lots of amusing moments in life, if we only stop to look for them.
- Melanie Bracewell: Dilly Dallying - Canberra Comedy Festival, Canberra Theatre Centre: Another comedy show without a theme is almost a theme in itself, especially when it is so well orchestrated. Melanie Bracewell is not so much a raconteur as that entertaining friend down the pub who fills their stories with colourful detail. Over the course of a meandering hour or so, she tells us about her recent engagement, by way of her previous boyfriends (the Four Fuckboys of the Apocalypse) and her fight with the neighbours over who has the best bin. She lets us know that this is the first stop on the tour, and she makes no aplogies for having her notes on stage. In fact, we seem to be taken into her confidence and feel like we may play some part in shaping the show, although by the end when the threads are all as neatly tied as a pair of shoelaces (you'll have to see the performance to see why that analogy works), it is clear that she was pulling the strings all along.
