#melbournefringe

One Punch Wonder is a timely look at male violence and how masculinity has become synonymous with aggression. Through her visceral exploration of the Coward’s Punch, director and writer Amanda Crewes hopes the piece will inspire audiences to look for change in themselves and with their friends and family.

The inspiration for the show came from conversations Crewes had with the four men now cast in the performance (Andrew Dunstan, Adam William, Christian Tomaszewski and Nicholas Allen) and the alarming rate at which male violence has been increasing. 

“We wanted to approach a subject matter that we all felt was important in this era but also important to us,” Crewes says. “Having these four talented men in my team provided a unique opportunity, and after discussions we decided to look at a 360-degree view of One Punch Attacks. Through our exploration, we found that the violence is a symptom of the culture we’re raising our boys in - it’s the result of toxic masculinity. This is all a part of our legacy project, which focuses on giving people in our community a voice, telling their stories.”

From the moment the idea for One Punch Wonder was conceived, Crewes knew exactly the type of setting she wanted to heighten the atmosphere of male aggression: a boxing ring. “We wanted to provide a 360-degree perspective on the subject matter. The boxing ring provided this physically, but also metaphorically,” she says. “I was inspired from seeing boxer Danny Green as a spokesman against the coward punch, which initially seems to go against his life’s work. However his message is clear - if you really wanna fight, and you’re a real man: Take it to the ring. Which is a sentiment that we echo throughout the play.”

In preparing for the roles, the four actors faced extreme physical and mental challenges. “The show is non-stop for almost the whole 50 minutes. Bodies collide, the actors are flipping over each other and boxing all show. Not all of them were prepared for the show when we started, but by now it’s ingrained in their bodies,” Crewes explains. “Mentally though, there’s nothing equally as terrifying and exciting for an actor than playing a real person. There’s the responsibility more than ever to honour them, as it’s real people, real stories.”

Along with the critical acclaim One Punch Wonder received from its Perth season, audiences have also had strong reactions to the show. “Once the show is over, the audience just sit there and don’t leave the theatre. Almost like it’s a funeral,” she says. “Some are crying, some are simply sitting, reflecting. It’s fascinating seeing men after the show as almost every man I talk to after the show says: “That’s me / That’s my life / I grew up like that / I saw myself in those stories” -  because every man is a the victim of the culture that we’re raising them in. Similarly women come up after and say “I wish I’d brought my son / brother / father / friend” because it unpacks the way men are raised in an accessible, authentic way.”

While men are beginning to hold themselves more accountable in regards to their actions, and calling out such behaviour in other men when they see it, Crewes believes there is still a long way to go in solving this problem. “I think there is a rising quantity of men who are honouring what it truly means to be a man, but I believe we still have a long way to go. I get sad when I see how closed and hurt so many men seem to be,’ she says. “At this time, where the Me Too movement is so powerful, and we’re seeing the seemingly endless stories of predatory men in power, now more than ever is the time to discuss masculinity.”

In Warriors, five young people (a warrior princess, a sport-loving young man and his cos-playing sister, a bright student from the country and her very ill sister in hospital) share their dreams and face their fears. Through three non-linear narratives, playwright Hayley Lawson-Smith explores the idea of what being a hero means and is a rare look at how young people relate to death and dying.

“I'm interested in exploring issues faced by young people but not often illustrated onstage, particularly in the context of complex sibling relationships,” Lawson-Smith says. “I've always been attracted to non-linear pieces which dip in and out of time, space and worlds, and how such stories can be utilised to create meaningful performances. It's important to engage audiences in discussions surrounding illness and death, and that young people should be given the opportunity to have their voices heard in such a conversation.”

Most of the stories presented in Warriors have some personal connection to Lawson-Smith, with her story on Zordana the warrior coming from years of ‘research’. “The stories set in our 'real world' are driven by events close to our personal, lived-experiences,” she says. “The research done to create the character and world of Zordana was undertaken way back in the '90s, when I was a kid binge-watching movies such as Labyrinth, The Never Ending Story, Xena: Warrior Princess, Willow and The Dark Crystal, and reading JRR Tolkien while hungry for more sword-wielding female characters.”

Mary, who plays Zordana was immediately drawn to the strong character traits she possessed. “Ever since I was a child I’ve loved to write, and often I would create fantasy stories about brave warrior princesses embarking on wonderful adventures. I recognized Zordana as the hero I loved to write about, and I immediately knew this was the play for me. The story of Warriors also captured my imagination as a long-time fan of The Neverending Story. I thought Warriors had the same kind of vivid fantasy that I adored in my favourite film and I straightaway fell in love with it.”

The same sentiments are shared by Isabella who plays Belinda, the ‘unsung hero’. “I was attracted to Warriors as I had been having trouble finding a strong female character my age that I could relate to or that had an interesting complexity. The role is a great reminder that not all heroes are obvious. I thought it was a great contrast to the rest of the characters in the play who are clearly very brave and tough whereas the ‘warrior’ in Belinda is more subtle. It’s great when as an actor you have so many possible ways to explore your character and their depth.”

Lawson-Smith has had the fortune of performing this work around the world, including high schools in America, with the stories resonating with the students. “The responses from other theatre companies and school groups performing the piece have been very positive. I have seen them enthusiastically explore the story, and heard about their development processes while working on the script; it seems to be a script which speaks to them and I'm glad for that,” she explains. “Audiences are moved by the plights and triumphs of the characters, and the tension and emotion in the room as people witness the journeys unfolding is palpable. There has always been at least one audience member in each production who has told the director or myself how engrossed they've been by the play.”

Fellow cast member Michael, has also felt the emotion behind his character Peter. ”I was immediately drawn to his sarcastic tone and his efforts to fight his way through high school. However it was the depth to his character, and the caring relationship toward his sister Maddie that made me want to play the role of Peter. These traits provided some interesting dynamics to explore when developing my character.”

Despite the young cast and being shown in high schools, Lawson-Smith stresses that this is still just as much a show for adults as it is children. “While this is a show about children and teenagers, it is still a play that adults will not only enjoy, but be moved by. We were all teenagers once, and these actors are a part of the next generation of Melbourne theatre-makers. They're presenting issues faced by all people, regardless of age, and I hope Warriors does justice to the experiences of many in our community.”

Emerging queer Aboriginal artist Sheree Stewart is ready to unleash the world premiere or her one woman show this Melbourne Fringe Festival. Pilepileta (Wemba Wemba language meaning ‘to shine, glitter”) is Stewart’s unapologetic and raw account of being a queer Aboriginal woman in a small redneck town.

“Pilepileta is a hard story as it touches on topics such as domestic violence, racism, homophobia and bullying but it also is a beautiful story of triumph and the resilience of the human spirit,” Stewart says. “It’s a big story and it’s taken a lot of courage to write it, but I feel like it is a story worth sharing because I want to shed light on how beautiful and powerful we can become, even when we have all the odds stacked against us.”

Stewart has been working on this story for a long time, even before she knew she would be creating a show from it. “The show has been brewing and just kind of sitting in my bones for a long time now and it finally just erupted out of me. I always write, I am always carrying a notebook so I have been putting ideas on paper over the months and am collaborating all of those ideas to create this show,” she explains. “I wrote Pilepileta because my Nan (a gorgeous little Aboriginal woman who is sadly no longer with us) always used to say to me "Sheree, you tell the story, you know the story, you have the storytelling from us. Tell the story". As most mob know, your Nan is the best. She is like the Queen and everything revolves about her. So this is to honour my Nan and my Mum with my promise of breaking our family’s cycle of silence and violence.”

PIlepileta weaves together a tapestry of spoken word ,dance, movement and videography, and while Stewart knew the show would always have spoken word, the rest has been a series of welcomed exploration. “I have been making it all up as I go along and seeing what works. I knew spoken word was a part of it, because that is what I do, but the other things have just organically fit in along the process,” she says. “The most exciting part for me is that I was able to include the old footage of when we were little and the Country I was on in the production. I am excited to get to share what my Country looks like to everyone because it is a small, hot and dusty place that not many people know.”

Stewart hopes that despite the difficult issues being raised, audiences will still see the hopefulness and beauty of the piece. “This is powerful, raw storytelling that comes from a voice of an Aboriginal woman who has overcome so many difficulties and was put in almost impossible circumstances,” she says. “It is painful but uplifting and I am hoping that people walk away from PIlepileta feeling inspired to share their own stories. I feel like this story has been a long time coming. I truly believe that storytelling and sharing stories connects us, creates understanding and can actually change the world.” 

It’s one of the seven deadly sins. We are told not to be envious of people’s successes. Unless of course if you attend Our Carnal Hearts. Presented as part of the Melbourne Fringe Festival, the show looks at the hidden workings of one of our uglier emotions. Written and performed by Rachel Mars, Our Carnal Hearts has received huge critical acclaim in the UK, and this month, it is Melbourne’s turn to experience the celebration of envy.

Mars conceived the show shortly after the 2011 London Riots, when a response to an injustice resulted in widespread looting and crime. “I was really thinking about the pressures we all have to compete, to own things, to look over our shoulders at the next person. I read a lot of material about the psychology, anthropology and sociology of envy, interviewed marketing experts, advertising lecturers, business people, and friends about their attitudes to envy,” Mars explains. “In current capitalist societies we are pitted against each other all the time. That's accepted. What is not acceptable is the feeling of envy. So you must compete, but you mustn't express the discomfort of comparing yourself to other people. When we throw in social media, we're in a storm of comparing our insides to other people's outsides.”

“The show is a place to explore that discomfort in a darkly comic way, and to reclaim the very human feeling of envy from political diatribe. I am always drawn to taboo subjects, and to finding communal, black-humoured ways of exploring them. Envy is something people don't feel comfortable talking about because you are often envious of people very close to you. I wanted to make a public space to explore these very personal, shameful feelings and unravel them from capitalist doctrine about envy.”

The weight of what is being expressed through Mars’ words, the choral score by Louise Mothersole (performed by the Invenio Singers Ensemble), and intimate seating in the round all contribute to the heightened sense of intimacy this production evokes. “The staging choices are very considered; we are on a four sided stage with the audience banks facing each other. This shapes the experience of the show, at times feeling like a community, at times like a show-down. I was also inspired by the special set up on Sacred Harp singing – an American spiritual singing practice that happens in a square, facing in,” Mars explains.

“The whole look of the stage, the design choices give a semi-religious, ritualistic feeling to the space. It should feel like we all just rocked up for some off-book, semi-illegal service. The singing - and the occasional invitations for the audience to join in - also shape this experience of being together whilst questioning the genuineness of that being together at exactly the same time.”

Our Carnal Hearts has resonated strongly with audiences, allowing them to consider an emotion that is often shunned and to think about their place in their community. “The show invites you to think about some of the grubby feelings we aren't normally allowed to express. The shape of the show moves towards a potentially cathartic but also energising finale, but one that is deliberately murky. So I think it is an invitation to be in that complexity of feelings, all while people are brandishing rubber chickens and singing Spandau Ballet,” Mars says.

“The music is also a huge factor. Louise Mothersole has done an amazing piece of work as the composer. Music, and especially the unaccompanied human voice, hits an emotional (and sometimes unconscious) nerve when you hear it. I find it can move me even when I'm not consenting to be moved. I watched a lot of musicals growing up, and that moment when the huge choral number comes in, even if the sentiment is questionable, it is so powerful.”

So how does Mars find a balance with her own feelings of envy? Where is the line? “Envy creeps in for me when I’m generally having times of financial precarity and creative self-doubt. When I’m making work I rarely look over my shoulders at what other people are doing, I just get on with it. I try to balance having to compete with my artist peers because of the way opportunities in the arts are set up with having plenty of honest, open, loving friendships with my peers which acknowledge the ugly things we sometimes feel.”

“I think if we can embrace envy as one of the spectrum of human emotions, and detach it from feelings of shame and guilt then we can recognise it, feel it and move on,” Mars says. “Envy can sometimes point to something you desire, and that can be helpful if you then take steps to achieve it rather than trying to burn other people.”

Our Carnal Hearts runs from 20 - 23 September. For ticket bookings: https://melbournefringe.com.au/event/our-carnal-hearts/