The wit of Will

The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged) (State Theatre Company of South Australia)

QPAC, Cremorne Theatre

September 21 – October 6

“The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged)” has snowballed in popularity since its first outing at the 1987 Edinburgh Fringe Festival, due to the improvisation, regional adaptation and pop culture references at its core. The play is a mix of stand-up, scripted comedy and theatre. It’s not traditional theatre by any means. Indeed, there is no fourth-wall, but, rather, a high-level of audience participation.

The result is bawdy humour and hysterical laughter as the show thunders through all 37 canonical plays. “Romeo and Juliet” is presented in a traditional (abridged) production format, but then all bets are off and a series of parodies ensures, including cooking show, rap battle, puppet porn and the most hectic of Hamlets. There is a lot of slapstick and silliness, but amongst it, some genuine moments of traditional theatre, which feature poignant delivery of key soliloquies, such Hamlet’s ‘what piece of work is a man.’

While a basic understanding of the Bard’s works will definitely aid appreciation of the show’s wit, there is enough frivolity and clever characterisation to amuse all. The cast of three, Damian Callinan, Nic English and Tim Overton, all give energetic, charismatic performances. Callinan’s stand-up comedy background is certainly an asset and his nimble, quick-witted interaction with the audience is a highlight.

“The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged)” is a crowd-pleasing show; it is superbly silly and appealing in its absurdness. The carnival-esque set and gaudy costumes are abundant with aesthetic richness, even if the set is completely irrelevant to the production. Its lunacy is, however, lengthy and the show could be edited for effect, especially the slow-to-get-started stand-up comedy opening and the repetitive, extended audience participatory psychological breakdown of Ophelia’s character. After all, brevity is the soul of wit.

Celebrating the extraordinary in the ordinary

Northern Soul (Victoria Melody)

Brisbane Powerhouse, Visy Theatre

September 24 – 27

“Northern Soul” is an original one-woman show about Victoria Melody’s UK anthropological investigations living with pigeon fanciers for a year and learning to northern soul dance in stranger’s living rooms. Dull as this may sound, Melody finds poetry and comedy as she celebrates the extraordinary in the ordinary.

Victoria is an endearing performer in what is more musing of the national pastime quirks than traditional theatre performance. An authentic assortment of films, photos, dance and music complement her journey in this funny, engaging and self-deprecating performance. Her timing is spot on, but, more than this, so is her use of vocal cues and inflection to lead the audience to comic realisations.

Victoria rightly claims that the show is also a lot about herself and this is its appeal. She has a childlike, charming quality that endears hers to the audience. Indeed, her fascination with other people’s passions and unique way of looking at life is something from which we could all benefit.

 

Topsy-turvy theatre

Leo (Circle of Eleven)

Brisbane Powerhouse, Powerhouse Theatre

September 17 – 22

Circle of Eleven’s “Leo” is an interesting, intriguing one-man show, based on a simple concept.  To one side of the stage is a cutaway of a room, in which Leo performs. On the other side of the stage is a live video projection of the same space, rotated 90 degrees. Using a combination of physical theatre and technological trickery, the show develops from basic movements to complex, impressive acrobatic feats. And this is where its appeal lies; the cleverness comes from anti-gravity abilities (think of Fred Astaire’s famous 1951 “Royal Wedding” number as an exemplar).

The show is skillful and its choreography is engaging in its variety, from simple circus-like clowning to synchronised dance and energetic, gravity-defying wall ascension. And it is easy to appreciate its appeal as family entertainment. Indeed, children were both wide-mouthed and audibly awed in response to the wonder of Leo’s fantastical journey. It is difficult not to appreciate the skill and dexterity being delivered, however, while it is never denigrates to the point of tedium, the wow factor unfortunately starts to wear thin after the initial premise is highlighted in the opening minutes. It is only through the addition of some chalk drawings and cleverly timed video projection (reminiscent of Gene Kelly’s seamless interaction with an animated Jerry Mouse in the 1945 film “Anchors Aweigh”) that the show manages to maintain audience entertainment.

This is a silent show, from a dialogue perspective; however, the music is a highlight that enhances Leo’s emotional journey through realisation and exploration of his gravity-defying dilemma. My expectations of “Leo” were high, having read of its Edinburgh and Montreal festival successes, and it is great to see Brisbane celebrating different theatre of this type. But different and delightful alone do not offer charm enough to justify the hefty $40+ ticket price for a one hour running time.

B grade has never been better

Psycho Beach Party (Little Ones Theatre)

Theatre Republic, The Loft

September 18 – 28

Little Ones Theatre’s “Psycho Beach Party” is a retro romp through B grade surfer and slasher movies. Indeed, its camp cheesiness is what makes it such a cult classic, with sold out seasons in Melbourne and Sydney behind its Brisbane Festival sensation.

The story is of a wannabe surfer chick with multiple personality disorder. Like Gidget, Florence (Chicklet) is more fish than dish. She isn’t interested in boys and just wants to surf like the Great Kanaka. Unfortunately, one of her alter-egos is simultaneously unleashing strange sado-masochistic horrors on other beach-goers.

The energetic ensemble cast all deliver wonderfully nuanced performances of affectionate archetypal tribute, from accent and, inflection, down to physical presence. But the highlight has to be Ash Landers’ gender-bending performance as Chicklet, in all of her selves. The beach shack set awash in leopard print is simple, yet detailed and, combined with catchy tunes like Rock Lobster, creates a fabulously fun atmosphere.

It is easy to see why “Psycho Beach Party” has become such an independent theatre phenomenon. So enjoyable is its experience that you leaving with immediate desire for a repeat viewing, making mental list of the friends you need to bring along to share the hilarity.

Songs we loved

The Men My Mother Loved (Tommy Bradson)

Theatre Republic, La Boite Studio

September 17 – 21

“The Men My Mother Loved” is a simple show, part personal reflection, part ode to 80s Aussie rock. Alone at the microphone, Tommy Bradson affectionately shares to the story of his groupie mother, her ‘interactions’ with Aussie rock royalty and her unexpected pregnancy. Bradson is a gentle storyteller and his account is an eloquent one (not an adjective often used in association with Melbourne’s Sandringham Hotel circa 1980s.) It not only celebrates the golden age of Australian pub-rock, but also the venues themselves, with an enticing nostalgia.

The show’s promise lies not in the lyrical nature of its narrative, however, but with the 90s rock roots that punctuate it. These ‘poems of her life’ serve as the lessons of his childhood, as the father he never had. Chisel, Aussie Crawl, INXS, AC/DC, Nick Cave and Paul Kelly all feature, often through careful rearrangement. The gentle retake of It’s a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock and Roll) is a sublime way to set the scene. When songs are approached bombastically without this consideration, the intrigue and thus the appeal of the show is lost, regardless of the musical process of the three-piece band.

“The Men My Mother Loved” is a well-written show of much potential and an enjoyable enough way to spend an evening. Indeed, the personal nature of the story was complemented by the intimacy of the La Boite studio venue. Though audience members might not walk away wowed, they will at least depart with desire to ‘call their mums’.

Don’t old dogs deserve better?

I Malvolio (Tim Crouch)

Brisbane Powerhouse, Visy Theatre

September 17 – 20

In Tom Stoppardesque style, Tim Crouch’s “I, Malvolio” reimagines Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night” through the eyes of its misunderstood, ‘notoriously abused,’ mad, minor character clown who has been tricked into believing his noblewoman employer is in love with him.

“I, Malvolio” is both delightful and difficult to watch. From its outset, the show subverts typical theatre expectations, with house lights up to allow Crouch to heckle audience members. What follows is an unsettling rant in which people are singled out and berated for, amongst other things, being too busy for church or prayer in favour of a little bit of drama, ‘watching the sexual deviants parading up and down, pretending to be other people … in a heaving mass of profanity and idolatry.’

Crouch’s ambition to break down the ‘fourth wall fantasy invented to contain the art form,’ is taken to audience participation extremes, including having one young man kick him in the backside. Indeed, when Malvolio’s character is driven to the brink of suicide by hanging, he enlists two audience members to be of assistance — one to hold the rope, and one to pull away the chair, as he interrogates onlookers, asking “is this the kind of thing you like to see?” It is an uncomfortable moment because it is a difficult question to answer honestly, given the character’s lack of likeability; having been teased and tormented, Malvolio projects his ridicule upon the audience, vowing from the outset “I’ll be revenged on the whole pack of you.” (He is.)

As a one-man show, “I, Malvolio” is demanding drama. Physically, Crouch gives an entertaining John Cleese-like performance as he ponders the nature of madness. (‘Some are born mad. Some achieve madness. And some have madness thrust upon them.’) Despite his ragged and soiled appearance thanks to his grimy, stained bodysuit, with grubby turkeycock headdress and tattered yellow socks, he repeatedly assures audiences, “I’m not mad.” The statement is actually debatable, given the way the performance meanders into pathos in a quest to illustrate how ‘old dogs deserve better.’ And therein lies the show’s genius.

“I, Malvolio” is an eloquently written show, cleverly crafted to incorporate phrases and lines from “The Tempest”. At times, this serves as detriment; words cascade over each other with such haste that little time is allowed to ponder their imagery. Despite this verbosity, its ethical underpinning is clear. “It’s all too easy isn’t it? To laugh at people. .. To exploit a weakness. … To take pleasure in someone else’s downfall.” And don’t old dogs deserve better?