#dunedin performance

This new work from comedy ensemble Discharge hit The Playhouse this Christmas and left the audience in tears of laughter with every scene.

The writing is incredibly intelligent; the cast have collected well-known Christmas tropes that we all know and love and turned them into witty and often insightful parody. This is helmed by the biggest Christmas story of all, the birth of Baby Jesus, reframed to show Mary’s perspective of the whole thing. This main narrative is carried extraordinarily well by performers Bronwyn Wallace and Nell Guy, who add a sense of structure and progression to the piece. To say that this was technically an “amateur” show, the comic timing of all cast members was on par with and, quite frankly, better than most of the skit based comedy we see here in Dunedin. Heidi Geissler as the borderline neurotic pantomime director, and Rosie Howell’s innkeeper were especially memorable, keeping the audience in stiches with well-defined and distinct characters. Nothing, however, will ever beat Marea Colombo’s cheeky snowwoman. I’ll never look at a carrot the same way again.

The piece wasn’t perfect of course. Some of the transitions between pieces got in the way of the overall flow of the piece, due to some of the skits seemingly not knowing how to end. Occasionally I got the impression that some scenes were built around one specific joke - brilliant punch line, but then awkwardly lingering on after the punch line, leaving a blunt pause between scenes. These moments were few and far between however, and the fact that all of the scenes were so funny intelligent meant that the show quickly recovered any lost momentum, with the audience soon in stiches again.

Counterpoints final show of the year!

This instalment in the company’s season is a blend of theatre and film. As Morris Grimes seeks to write and publish his autobiography, a break from his best-selling “Grimey Times” series, he confronts three figures from his past who each have their own turbulent histories with the withdrawn and self-effacing character.

Howell’s script is to be commended. Too often amateur writing has an obvious whiff about it; uncrafted, unnatural, and forced. For the most part this piece escapes this trope and we’re presented with unique and fascinating characters. The way that Howells integrates the characters from Grimes past into his making of the “Grimey Times” series is particularly well done. While the narrative of the piece is a bit predictable (very much “A Christmas Carol” three ghosts one after another kinda scenario), its conclusion is not. The relationships Grimes has with his agent and the figures from his past keep us interested, but don’t give anything of the ending away, and when it comes, it’ll side-swipe you.

The portrayal of these characters is handled well by the cast, compromised of some of Dunedin’s strongest young talent.  Mayes and Mcbryde fit into their roles well. Mayes’ portrayal of publicist Sidney West subtly invites a cynicism in the audience regarding his moral compass, and is a pleasure to watch.  Some of the humour from them feels a bit forced, but two solid performances nonetheless. It’s the three figures from Grimes past however that take the cake.

The relationships that the three hold to Grimes, and their personal interest in his work and life, are demonstrated expertly by the actors. McCarthy always brings a hyperactive and usually comic energy to his work, but as Samuel he seems to actively try to repress it; letting it slip occasionally and giving his character an unsettling edge. Guy’s subtle and believable portrayal of the mentally unstable Wanda offers a nice change in pace for the piece, more withdrawn and reserved than the joke-filled intro, but she still hits the comic elements of the script with perfect comic timing.  Finally, to say it’s only a phone call, Lehman’s portrayal of high school sweetheart is honest and brutal in dealing with Grimes, a great “all grown up” style contrast to the young school sweetheart from Grimes’s younger years.

The choices made in regards to the pieces setting and overall venue choice is an interesting one. The Athenaeum is not the most high end venue. We walk in to cracks in the walls, dusty chairs, and a pretty barren stage in terms of set. While it may be intended to give the piece a barren and desuetude feel, it comes across as budget. This isn’t helped by the minimal use of lighting, many of the scenes seemingly accompanied by an obvious and distracting red or blue spot on the back wall. I don’t know what light bulbs Sidney West buys, but he can maybe afford to splash out a bit more on them.

Definitely the standpoint of the piece are its short film segments. It’s hard to put action into a play that consists mostly of office scenes and interviews, and McDonald’s use of film adds some much needed movement and energy to the otherwise static piece. The pieces are incredibly well made, a tribute to the film crew Bus of the Undead, with comedic action that compliments the scripts dialogue well.

Jesus Christ, it’s been a dark year for Counterpoint Productions. The Mall, written by New Zealand’s own Thomas Sainsbury and directed by Heidi Geissler, well exceeded expectations of a good night out and provided an equally hilarious and traumatic theatre experience. “Dark comedy” is a term used all too flippantly but is most apt for Sainsbury’s Columbine tragicomedy. Walking into Allen Hall, the thoughtful but lackluster set disappointed at first; a few chairs and tables (the latter wrapped tightly in newspaper) was initially a poor compliment to the slapstick characters and seemed largely lost to the dark stage. Four lamps hung low over stage giving an intimate touch to the void. Most pleasing was the “elevator music” so subtle it only made itself known in the most silent moments. Like the humble bassoon, it provided vital texture to the entire ensemble. As the play progressed, the value of the visual aesthetic greatly increased. But first, the actors.

  Orion Carey-Clark deserves tremendous praise for perhaps the greatest range of depth and skill to each of his characters and is always a delight to watch. Joelle Peters and Emma Bauer have utterly splendid comedic rapport and together lay ruin to deliciously vapid stereotypes. Ashley Stuart’s Kunwar was an adorably heartbreaking performance and short of watching an orphaned puppy freeze to death on Christmas Eve, is about the biggest feels-coma you’ll experience for a while. Ben’s “Dean” was instantly captivating and though occasionally seemed played too large, was a most commendable job. His acting was bleakly real and made one anticipate his next monologue. Miriam, who appeared sparingly, was poignant and unsettlingly simplistic. Perfect cast. The latter two bore the dark weight of the play with great skill.

  The Mall is a necessary caricature of the empty baselessness of Western consumer culture, focusing on a broad range of characters from various social standings, and their existence within a mall. The Mall (both script and this specific production) rely on stereotypes that sometimes rouse that unnamed feeling of “I’m not sure it this is racist or not...” in a deliberately crafted way, as though to just slightly perturb the audience. Overall the play has the courage to establish the great black elephant in the room and bring it to startling fruition; director Heidi Geissler handled this well. We see in Dean the crushing weight of that valueless husk of commercialism. His story weaves through a colourful arrangement of vignettes that on multiple occasions called the actors to stand still and wait for the audience to stop laughing. Every time that dark threat of a human being about to break crept in, ever so slightly, it was quickly swallowed by loud, ridiculous characters.

  A big complaint is the overuse of mime, the Chinese meteor hammer of acting; powerful but with high user mortality rates. At times mime felt delineating and flat, although this is a persnickety tool and hardly depreciates the show. The slow descent of the play was just great. One half expected to be trapped and burnt in the theatre, à la Inglourious Basterds. This is where the simplicity of design was used with excellence. The distant muffled noise of destruction achieved sensations of dread difficult to accomplish in theatre, especially for a young company of artists. The actors laying about the floor near the end of the show felt unnecessary but otherwise Geissler and her actors realised the darkness of The Mall so incredibly well. Absolutely worth your while to see this production on one of its two remaining nights. It was an engrossing, amazing performance and money well spent.

Sisters in Arms is a collaboration between Serbian theatre company Helb Teatar and Dunedin's Ake Ake Theatre. The project is one of only three international collaborations to receive funding from Creative New Zealand's First World War Centenary Co-commissioning Fund, and a thoroughly worthy recipient it is. I would urge anyone who has missed the Dunedin season and has the opportunity to attend Sisters in Arms at the Nelson Festival of the Arts to do so.

Co-writers/performers/directors Sanja Krsmanovic-Tasic, of Belgrade, and Jessica Latton, of Dunedin, have researched and share the stories of Sofija Jovanovic, a soldier in the Serbian army, and Dr Jessie Ann Scott, of Canterbury, who trained in Edinburgh and served in the Serbian army during World War 1, as neither the New Zealand army nor the British army accepted women doctors. Two remarkable women, unknown to so many until now, have their extraordinary yet humble feats during WWI interlaced in a piece of theatre that wholly delivers in realising the magnitude and marvel of what they achieved. 

It was refreshing and enriching to attend the final performance of the Dunedin season of Sisters in Arms last night. The piece is book-ended by a personal greeting from one of the company members, who offers you the traditional Serbian welcome of bread and salt as you enter the theatre, and an endnotes session where the audience is invited to ask the performers for further details about the various themes in the play.

Krsmanovic-Tasic describes Sisters in Arms as an “essay in motion”. It is a realisation of what theatre is at its core: bodies in space and time. Intricate and complex design is not necessary for multi-layered and textured performance. Because of the apparent simplicity in staging, this is a piece that honours and inspires the imagination of the audience. However, one should not be misled into believing that simplicity equates with simplistic.

The actors’ skill in movement is honed and profound. Rhys Latton and Anastasia Tasic, in particular, convey compelling psychology and history through gesture and acrobatics, through which they exemplify the genetic memory that is transmitted through time and generations. Latton’s repetition and cradling of gestures is harrowing, echoing the piercing trauma experienced by his characters. Song is also a key vehicle for memory and history in Sisters in Arms. The performers at times comprise the live band as well as sing in the play. The music and lyrics are a mixture of traditional Serbian folk music, war songs, and songs by Robbie Burns. The lyrics and melodies meld and blend in the same weave as the histories that are being told. In the endnotes session, composer, musician, and performer Jugoslav Hadzic explained the choices for this in highlighting how songs are repurposed over time, especially for war or expressions of patriotism. A central theme is around the telling of history and to be wary of “official” histories, which is of very real concern to Hadzic and Krsmanovic-Tasic, who both lived through the Yugoslavian civil war from 1991 to 1993. In this sense, the work has both an historical and more immediate resonance.

From the undeniable pain and destruction of war is borne the poetry and humanity of theatrical collaboration. In Sisters in Arms childbirth, healing, and reverence sit appropriately alongside disease, death, and the futility of conflict. It is not orthodox commercial theatre by any means, and we the audience were all the better for it. As we stand 100 years from the first “great” war, while simultaneously facing the many wars that are still erupting and being fought around us, collaborations such as this have an invaluable role in aiding us to both critically examine and cherish our humanity.

Wriiten by Tommy Murphy

Directed by Danny Goodwin

This week's Lunchtime Theatre, and final for the year, tells the story of a young man, Timothy Conigrave (Sam White) and his romantic relationship with John Caleo (Nick Tipa). Set through the sixties, to the eighties, we see the plot progress through an important time for queer rights and feminism. The play follows Timothy through his last few years of school and into his college years, through his adventures, and misadventures, with his boyfriend and trying to work out how to be a gay man in a world that struggles to accept him.

Despite being a heavy topic to tackle the script has plenty of laugh out loud moments, whether it be the silliness of Marie (Scott) or the adorable stare down by Rose (Acklin) in the GAYSOC meeting, there were many hilarious moments. The play also tackled the emotional times well, with the huge help of Tipa and White.

  White’s Timothy, who should have by rights been the main character, was somewhat overshadowed by Tipa’s John who was played exceptionally in a charming and confident way, really showing us why White’s character would have fallen for him. However in saying that, it was the background characters who stole the show, Siale Tunoka, Mãrama Pipepe, Sofian Scott, Sophie Acklin and Mac Veitch. Each playing a number of different characters that supported the main story, they showed a mix of exceptional comic timing and some really genuine performances, particularly Tunoka, Pipepe and Scott.

The way the scenes were cut together felt like we missed out on a lot of character development but the script as a whole was very well written. The set was not standout and the lighting/sound felt quite clunky at times. The direction seemed to be a little light handed despite some good use of conventions, for example, the standing bed and face to face phone calls, however there were some conventions that felt a little out of place, such as having the actors walk around beforehand, which didn’t fit with the mood of the play, and the scene changes which grew tiresome. There was a lot of movement on stage in the background that felt unnecessary, and the seating in the semi round/traverse was not used as effectively as it could have been. All that said, it was enjoyable to watch and hilarious the whole way through.

It’s that time of semester again for Allen Halls' tech class, Voyager! The Voyager initiative began years ago, with the inspiration from theatre manager Marty Roberts, to create a performance opportunity for the first year Theatre Tech class, to showcase the techincal skills they had learnt throughout the semester to create a new and innovative performance piece. It’s difficult to review the Lunchtime Theatre Voyager productions without giving a lot away, so much of this review will be in given in general terms. But hey, just means all the more reason to go and participate right?!

And I do mean participate! Voyager has a long standing reputation with audience participation, that Are you Worthy? again ventures into. Nothing scary that’s going to isolate you from a crowd, but be prepared to be up on your feet and doing things.

In terms of reviewing the show, what I can say is that Are You Worthy? is a solid addition into the voyager fold. While there’s nothing too adventurous in terms of space use, the play creates clearly defined spaces in the hall, and dresses said spaces in a way that creates an encapsulating environment no matter which “room” you’re in. Voyager always inspires an attention to detail oft missing from other shows; an aphorism to the technical skills Marty Roberts fosters in the class. The cast of Are You Worthy? coalesce various props, set, and lighting elements in a way that divert your attention from the fact you’re standing in the same hall that Lunch Time Theatre shows are always held in, and instead transport your imagination to an entirely new location; fulfilling the role that, more often than not, the technical elements of theatre are there for.

Lighting is simple, but effective. Soft spots focus audience attention to where it needs to go; important when you have the audience wandering in a space rather than simply sitting and watching. Supported by an enthusiastic cast portraying vibrant, helpful, and totally non-threatening characters, you’re given the chance to immerse yourself in the space, relax, and just enjoy yourself. Moving into the final stage of the performance, the tech becomes more complex, most notably with Ryan Walker providing his own knowledge of video to create a beguiling and interactive installation that serves the engrossing aesthetic of the room (again no spoilers).

Voyager always provides us with an interesting performance. Usually it sacrifices elements of performance to accomplish this, but Are You Worthy? utilises the performers in a way that compliments their set up of the space. There could perhaps be a little more guidance from actors in regards to what needs to be done by the audience, but mostly solid performances all round. I will give a small nod especially to those in the dining room; the clamorous heads alongside a fervent British butler for an especially humorous scene. A show not to be missed, so if you want to know more get yourselves along to today’s performance!

Counterpoint presents:

Jose Rivera’s MARISOL.

Directed by Jacob McDowell.

Marisol is an absurdist adventure in two acts, centralised around the title character, played by Annabelle Carpenter, and takes you steadily from the bounds of reality to abstraction smoothly but at great speed. Marisol starts as an unassuming middle class woman who manages to evade multiple life threatening situations with the help of her own personal guardian angel. When the angel reveals herself and announces her departure, to kill God, Marisol is left to fend for herself. Through a series of ever heightening absurd interactions she swiftly becomes derailed as the whole world breaks down.

Carpenter plays the deranged Marisol in a sweet unassuming way, managing to keep the childishness of being lost in a crazy adventure, with the energy needed to keep this story running at full speed. A huge applause has to go to Ashley Stewart who expertly plays a number of different characters at varying levels of insanity, and makes what could be over the top characters sit on the edge of fiction and reality. Joelle Peters plays June beautifully and makes us all want her to have more stage time. Annica Lewis’s angel was a good character and left me wanting more as I felt her speeches were not all they could have been.

The set for MARISOL consists of many different sized and coloured boxes scattered around the stage, these were used to create a multitude of different scenes and although the changes seemed to be continuous with the constant use of Woodkid’s ‘Run Boy Run,’ they kept the space fluid and left it up to the audience to decide what the pieces were there to represent.

There’s a lot to say about the Fortune’s off-site production, so maybe the easiest place to start would be the beginning. For most plays that’d probably be when the lights dim, the audience shuts up and the actors take their places; here this is not the case. It feels like the performance started the moment we arrived at the wharf. On this particular night the weather seemed to be on the show’s side, with the wind whipping off the harbour and through the old industrial area, there’s a sense of tension even before walking in the door.

 Inside, amongst the piles of “stuff”, it’s hard to pick which of the many, many chairs or sofas would be the best to settle into. Initially we were a little concerned we’d made the wrong choice of seating, but by the end of the performance it was clear that there really weren’t any bad seats, so don’t fret. But wear some thermals. And maybe a hat. Seriously.

Right from the start it’s hard to tell which sounds are coming through the speakers and which are just the sounds from outside. It fuses together into this beautiful soundscape that feels part theatrical and part just sitting in an old shed, and although I’m sure none of that’s an accident, it feels like one, and it’s pretty amazing. Additionally, before the interval there is a monologue (you’ll have to go for more details) and the sound fading away in that scene is just beautiful, it really stuck with me after the performance. Sounds design overall, brilliant.

Lighting design is by the hugely talented Marty Roberts, and man does that talent show. While waiting for the show to start, my friend and I were trying to figure out where all the lights were, and after a couple of minutes we found only two. All the equipment is so skilfully woven into the space that it doesn’t feel like it’s there: the result on stage however is wonderful and so incredibly controlled, it’s a marvel to watch. The design plays up all the theatrical elements of the text while remaining natural and unobtrusive, it really lets the performances shine.

And wow, do these performances shine. The whole play has the theme of manipulation running through it, but Ken Blackman, as Davies (the homeless caretaker of the title), manipulates the audience deftly and with what appears to be no effort. He plays with the audience’s emotions the whole time, making you feel sympathetic or frustrated or angry, like a puppet master pulling strings. The way he supports the other actors was also noticeable, while he talks and talks and talks the whole play, he can draw your attention or let it shift onto another character, as need be, all in the same sentence. It would be easy for the Davies’ character to kind of blanket the performance, but the control Blackman has makes it all work.

 Kip Chapman does a wonderful job as Mick, the owner of the flat the events take place in. He has this incredible energy that hits you in the face each time he’s on stage, right from his first entrance, even as an audience member, you can’t help but feel a little threatened by him. His physical presence commands the space, and his longer pieces of dialogue are both hilarious intimidating.

 I do also have to give massive accolades to Jason Whyte, his role of Aston is possibly the hardest of the three characters to pull off, but it does deliver the biggest rewards. Aston, who brings Davies home with him to the flat his brother owns, is a little odd, a little eccentric and very quiet. There’s something about Whyte’s eyes that you just help but be drawn to, add in a carefully honed physicality and this voice that is wildly funny, strange and sad, all at the same time, and you get a stellar performance. I have to mention again that monologue, just before the interval. It’s intense, and moving and scary in the best possible way. Absolutely incredible.

 Set design of course gets a massive A+, the carefully curated piles of junk are placed so as to not intrude on the audience’s view of the performance, while still building the character of the dilapidated flat and the overhead ceiling frames the action nicely. There’s no point describing the set really, it’s impossible to do it justice, it’s not just a box on stage, it really does envelope the whole venue.

 And that is probably what makes this production - which I have to note is truly hilarious, such a success; the performances, the design and even the set, at the Fortune just wouldn’t have worked as well. Director Lara Macgregor made a bold choice in taking on this work, and playing it off site at Shed 40 was an even bolder choice. But both payed off. Massively. Every part of this production has been carefully thought out and executed to such a high standard, and it results in a really polished performance. The standing ovation was definitely deserved.

 However, that is my only criticism of this production, it’s all just a little too perfect. Now I really am splitting hairs here, it is a fantastic show, and maybe the neatness of it (if you can have neat chaos?), makes it more approachable, which is always a good thing. But there is something about it that I think wasn’t quite messy or dirty enough.