Let's Go Fly a Kite!

What Can I Say?
The Press has said it all. It was so great to run into an-ex theatrical mentor the other night outside The Maj. I should have known it being a Cam Mac production you would be in town Robbo, but since being away from the ABC mic I am out of touch. You were correct dear man, I did adore the production despite the cycnic in me thinking it would be just for families with kids.

The cycnic arrived looking at the House Full signs and seeing the usually under-dressed theatre goers and I caught myself wishing for the days when the glitter and glamour crossed the footlights into the stalls also. By house lights down I was ready to kill 50% of audience. If there was one more flash bulb go off or mobile phone camera snapping the scrim with logo... I would have screamed! Why do these people NOT READ the large signs above the door... and who the bloody hell are they to think that it applies to EVERYONE OTHER THAN THEM!!

I'll bet they don't sit at home staking digital pics of the movie title screens on Foxtel (but I'll bet they are downloading illegal copies on their pcs). So much for the recognition that the live arts are special and performers, producers and technical crews should have their IP honoured!

Don't even get me started on that one....

Thank you anyway dearest Michael Tyack for finally raising the Baton after the interminable wait for the Grand Circle. When the show began I felt that it really was all a bit 1960s in staging but I soon got over those reservations and realised that with so many scenes the good old revolving house and trucks would be the easiest techniques to use. So whereas the design was practical and functional at first, the cast was STELLAR.

How easy it is to have horrid little stage darlings when children play leads but these kids were great. Well directed, sang and danced proficiently and were right into character (no sugray sweetness there, nore over-the-top Von Trapp nastiness!).

Verity Hunt-Ballard proves again that WAAPA is this Country'e Julliard for the Music Theatre. Her voice pure and pitch perfect. She is also beautiful on stage but to my surprise I was blown away by (and still am) Matt Lee.

All I know is that he is a judge on Australia's Got Talent. Do not watch it, do not read about it or him... so I missed his credentials until I got home and read the program. Dein Perry's Tap Dogs, worked with David Atkins, was in Bootmen etc etc. This guy is the goods as a dancer but WAIT THERE'S MORE. HE HAS THE WHOLE SET OF STEAK KNIVES!

The Dick Van Dyck performance as Bert is embarassingly bad in comparison. This boy can sign and act... and his dancing. Well for those of us who adored Wayne Scott Kermond in Singing in the Rain and a young bloke called Todd McKenny in Song and Dance... well this guy is just soooo strong... tapping upside down on the proscenium arch... you gotta be kidding!

And as for the appaling flying in Witches of Eastwick... forget it. The freed Lark is a very special moment as is the kite flying. I will not even compare the chandelier from Phantom to Poppin's exit... OMG technology has come so far in so few years. As expected the audience began screaming in delight... and rightly so.

Directorially the production ticked all the boxes. Every nuance was received by the audience as it was designed, illiciting the applause, ovations and general excitement only a live audience can add.

Choreographically, how could I have expected any less than perfection when someone like Mathew Bourne has his head... Supacalifragilisticexpialicious.... particularly in that ensemble work, and the very special Step in Time.

The traditional ballet form used for the staues in the Park was at once a throw back to earlier music theatre and very apt for a modern staging also.

I loved seeing the magnificent Phillip Quast on a Melbourne stage and am grateful that both he and Marina Prior have been given new songs... but they are a tad less than spectacular... and in each instance function to add to the book. Oh well, not everybody can have show stoppers can they Judi Connelli?

My fondest memories of many of these leads are not in the big name productions that the Publicists and Marketing people are highlighting in the program bios. Whilst Phil's Javert is one of the greatest stage performances of all times, my particular favourite is on the Comedy stage as Candide... and Judi Connelli... not the Opera stages of the State Theatre as Katisha but in her cabaret shows, particularly Pack of Women.

As for Marina... her Cosette is perhaps her best (original Sydney season)... and what a production that was. (She was also magnificent and definitive as Christine opposite Anthony Warlow in Phantom). I am still thrilled that I was privileged enough to see the Sydney opening night of Les Mis.... I can never thank you enough Mark Gogol!

Debra Byrne... how to describe her Fantine alongside Normie Rowe's Valjean... amazing. And her performance as Grizabella was worth sitting through the whole production of Cats to witness... as you can guess I am not a huge fan.

This brings me to the point of this blog. There are very special moments of magic for creative artists. Debra Byrne wove such a moment last Friday night. Her Feed the Birds was just perfect... and that is something I have never said as a professional reviewer ... not ever. My dear friend, and many regular theatre-goers always have a go at performers who they perceive to be tall poppies. One such comment on Friday was "at least I hope she does all the shows this time".... well I am sorry I do not think that matters... what makes Debbie the magnificent performer is her fragility. Whilst we can all stand and admire the technicians and leading ladies such as Marina... it is the destructive divas that make the theatre what it is.

We thrill to watch the Debra Byrnes of this world perform. It is like holding our breath as a titerope walker traverses the wire. We know they are trained and have the skill to do it... but it is the fear they might just fall that brings the frisom of excitement and expectation.

That is my response to the performances of Debra Bryne. She commands the stage and holds the audience spellbound, breathing only as she does, and listening so intently. We live the moment with her. This she did again on Friday night... held the Maj audience silent whilst she communicated the pathos. What a star turn. I am privileged to have seen her... again.

These are the things that made Poppins special. Yes there is all the Cam Mac glitz and extravagance but it is the special ensemble moments and great performances that lift a musical to its highest art form. This is what this Aussie Poppins offers Melbournians. Maybe this was not there in the Broadway production... a respected friend of mine told me he was a tad underwhelmed... I doubt he would say the same of this one. (Do you JMH?)

Lastly, in case anyone reads this who knows him... give my love to Jack Webster. Still treading the boards... and tapping!! How long now Jack... over 30 years I would have thought between gigs at the Maj?You too are inspirational... and to think... dear old Peter Casey is with the Production Company too.... where are the other ex-Ireners? Many would be working I'll bet.

Thank you Betty Pounder for this training and legacy... and thank you Robbo. Long may you reign at CAM MAC Australia!

Sydney biennale and laying to rest the past.

Today has been a wonderful day, filled with sadness and extreme happiness. The day began with a sweet/sour goodbye to my dear friend N in Sydney as i boarded a plane to make it back to another dear friend's big day. My friend Kerry was to perform her one -woman show at a local theatre in front of selected guests and a camera crew from the ABC's Australian story. For Kerry, a great stand-up but no trained actor this was a major event, despite it being somefour months prior to her scheduled opening at a Melbourne Fringe venue. To have a film crew in the audience was something a seasoned pro would find daunting, especially given the script was still in workshop stage.

I am proud to say she nailed it. The material is so strong. Everyone is caught up in the moment; a friend doing the extraordinary. I am proud of her, just conquering the nerves and having the strength to face her demons publicly, especially considering her nearest and dearest were hearing events from her perspective for the very first time. Emotionally this was a momentous occasion for Kerry, her daughters and her ex-husband. There were tears shed in the auditorium as complete strangers were given a privileged insight into the Victorian justice system.

Even Kerry and her director, underestimate the potential power of this piece. As my friends know only too well, the acting teacher/director/performer and professional theatre reviewer still cannot sit inside a theatre auditorium and shut down the critics voice. Yet, today I became the dramaturg... another role I am comfortable in. However, this was not the role expected of me. I was to be the friend, caterer and general support crew.

I just find this impossible to do. I cannot switch off the producer/marketing head space. I know Kerry is sitting on a hit. Big time! It could do a national run easily.
But how do you speak to people so invested in a project? My dear friend asked my opinion as everyone (and that is literally everyone... oh yes except one regular theatre goer) gave Kerry such glowing feed back. We were all caught up in the emotion and success of the achievement.

Stupid me. I managed to avoid giving feedback at the venue when I discovered her director had very set opinions about the style the piece should take. In one sense she is correct, especially if Kerry is the 'talent'. However, I know this is bigger than that and needs a professional hand guiding the tiller. How can you discuss a project objectively when everybody ibvolved is too invested (and amateur).

Later when all the 'normal' people, the non-theatre people had returned home to their comfy suburban existence, Kerry and I sat together toasting a successful event.

I state again here that I am so proud of her accomplishement.


But then I made the mistake of being honest when she asked for my input. I was very cautious, trying to explain my point of view, but the moment I even hinted that the piece needed a dramaturg and professional actor.... well I lost my friend. The whole ownership issue and creative products is a fraught issue. Only the most successful palywrights (like Joanne Murray-Smith) know that for the piece to 'fly' the mother has to let go.

Only then in workshop can the writer see just what a gem she has created. How many great works falter at this first hurdle because writers/performers think that they alone can make the work 'fly'. I would say this is true at every level of the Industry, from Melbourne fringe to Hollywood blockbusters.

I guess this is why I no longer work as a theatre critic. I have made too many enemies by trying to be faithful to the potential of the work rather than the individuals involved.

I learned many years ago that no matter how good I thought I was, there was always someone better than me.... even with my own stories. I have learned the skill of letting go. It is painful but a necessary severing for the art to happen.

I want this piece to make its presence felt nationally, but I do not want my friend hurt or feeling inadequate. I am so conflicted. It really is none of my business... but basically I am still the woman prepared to mortgage her house to option a script, as I did in the eighties. I was defeated then... (Neil Armfield did the film, and unsuccessfully in box-office terms) but am too timid to take on the heartache again.

I guess I value my friendship with Kerry more... does that mean I am finally growing up?

Sydney great for diets...

And I thought that Melbourne was unique with its Chocalholic walking tours! Sydney sets up quite a challenge by promoting it's 'chocolate bars'... that is cafes specialising in chocolates and chocolate beverages. Of course there is Max Brenner (one of my Melb faves), but they also offer a Guylian 'bar' in the Rocks and a Lindt 'bar' at Darling Harbour. What a pity that lap banding suits gooey melted hot chocolate drinks!

I would also like to visit that shop that was on Masterchef last week with the Belgian chocolates and expert chocolatier but my dear son didn't catch the guys name and I haven't googled Masterchef... I know I can and I probably will before I fly home for Tuesday!

(No nasty comments Melburnians but I am seriously toying with the idea of flying back on Thursday after supervision through until Saturday. My justification. The ASAL AGM is on Friday! Well that's the best I can do, if the cheap $48 virgin fares aren't enough justifucation, and I have a place to stay so no accommodation costs... There I've put it in writing... I think it is now confirmed.)

The only comfort is that Sydney needs lots of pavement pounding to get anywhere, if you are trying to see the sights, feel the vibe and avoid the ubiquitous underground stations, which I definitely am keen to miss. What's the point of sitting down all day in Uni rooms if I can't muster up enough energy to get out and about in the down times? As I have learned over the years I cannot absorb six or more papers a day. This is particularly true now when my entire waking consciousness is concerned with opening up my laptop and pounding out 30,000 words for my supervisor this week.

Yet, I am also aware of how perilously close I came to hospitalisation again days ago. I refuse to let stress drie me into feelings of worthlessness and clinical depression. I am here to enjoy living, even if that means the bloody PhD is delayed further. I want to be alive to rea the rewards, and they will come along... but just more slowly than the 'outsiders' want.

It is here I should thank my Sydney partner in crime, dearest N. Without you I would have forgotten that I am a person, a grown woman who can determine her own future no matter what happens at my Uni. I have a life to look forward to, an 'old' body being rediscovered and a sense that I do actually have intrinisc value as a human being.

Thus I can happily tuck in to the hot chocolate and champagne without guilt trips. How nice to be accepted by friends for what you are instead of judged by how you look. Why did I have to travel 800 ks to discover this? And why so late into the PhD journey?

So what does my Sunday's rebellion offer? The 17th Sydney biennale, of course. I have never been to Cockatoo Island, and have only glimpses sight of it from a ferry. So today with the sun peaking through for a warm day (17C... remember I am from Melbourne so this is mild winter weather), N and I have selected to brave the crowds and hope that the free entry doesn't bring Sydneysiders out in their thousands for the modern art installations. Of special interest to me is probably one that I am going to find discomforting, an Italian artist has literally hung a stuffed horse from the roof of one gallery. I am unsure what he is on about but will tell you after seeing Novacentro 'in the flesh', so to speak.

Speaking of artists penchant for hanging things from roofs, there is another artist who has dangling Ford motor vehicles from the roof, each pierced with some representations of light beams. And of course I want to see that warplane suspended as a crucifix... no explanation needed here.


Bring it on... and if the Island is too busy, the fall back plan is to go to the State Library to check out the winners from the world press photos for 2010, and then hopefully an evening performance of either Long Days Journey into Night, with William Hurt and Robyn Nevin, or god old Tony Warlow and Siggy Thornton in A Little Night Music. However, if these are sold out a trip to the fun Belvoir Street is on the table also.

Oh yeah, and I also have to do some writing today.

Life shifts... plans change.

Well after leaving home yesterday to attend one of the briefing sessions at the Victorian Arts Centre about the $128.5 million Stage 1 of the Southbank Cultural Precinct Redevelopment) which is actually a refurbishment of Hamer Hall, I suddenly realisedd just how my mood state shifts up a gear once I head up the road towards the CBD! (More on this in a separate blog).

Earlier on the journey in I realised just how much I actually missed performing on stage (not just behind a microphone on radio although that is exceptionally wonderful also). I had been spending a month or more prior to my hospital stint, re-learning and revisiting some songs that had been being put together for a small two hander (and for a younger me [prior to birth of my son]). As I increasingly approach the old me (in body size) the desire to perform is growing stronger with each kilo shed.
However, Fate steps in and a redeveloped plan to get this cabaret back on is cancelled due to my partner in crime having other irons to fry in London and not able to head home. Oh well, something always happens for a reason, even if I can't see that reason (as it unfolds for me).

Also another friend from days gone by (a person to whom I had become detached due to a clash of professional roles once in the late eighties) is now in rehearsal in Brisbane. This exceptionally talented performer has been absent from Australian stages for far too long (but again motherhood becomes the focus at certain stages in life). She was expressing the all-so-typical reheasal doubts and frustrations at this early stage of production, and I had to giggle. (Yet, part of me was just so envious).
So it is with all the theatrical buzz spinning through my increasingly active mind that I sit and objectively process all the Hamer Hall news at the Briefing. It was held in the ANZ Pavillion and for those who knew me in 'the old days", you can imagine the sense of deja vu, that accompanied this. I focused very well, took all the pertinent facts and key issues (no, not number of toilets and arrangement of stalls seating and legroom... more the fly tower, scenery dock, improved accoustics and the staggering fact that to refurbish the organ would cost $10m [a sum not budgeted for in this State Govt funding]). Now all I have to do is find the angle and pitch for the article and the correct outlet for publication of a series on the redevlopment over the coming three years.

I think I have the 'peg', now all I need to research is the market and write the piece. The old media/pr headspace is firing up again. And was I buzzing... just ask my friend and colleague, G (who came with me for company). No sooner had we left the Theatres Building do I suggest that we attempt to catch a show in town... yep with less than 10 minutes to most curtains.

We headed up to the Princess as neither of us had seen Jersey Boys. We were somewhat late but lock-out hadn't finished. We also managed with our concession cards to talk box office into C reserve (behind a pole)... It saved us each $50 on the ticket price, without which this little impulsive adventure would not have happened. And then looking at just how many sighing people (literally) would have to stand to let us get to our seats I opted to drag G to the back row. Much better idea. Still restricted viewing because of circle overhang but enough vision to see the main platforms and entryways. Also had a ball that we scraped together enough for a Jersey Boys cocktial at Interval with those really fun tacky light-up fluro plastic cocktail glasses!

What a show! We were lucky to have the main cast (without swings), and that's something given the length of time it has been playing and that they had done a matinee earlier. I never knew the backstory to the Four Seasons or indeed Frankie Valli himself. A true NY fable. The four-part harmonies were exceptional and spine tingling, and the band simply brilliant. It is a feel good musical in the best possible sense of the phrase. 100 times better than Mamma Mia (and that was very entertaining). This show deserves large sell-out audiences and seasons. The talent onstage made me feel proud of our young Aussie actors/singers. Yet, despite the youth I still left the theatre feeling like singing, dancing and going back to the spotlight myslef one day.

One magic moment was when the Four Seasons were upstage, backs to us (audience) performing to their audience and we sat under the glow of the spotlights. That magnificent warm blackness from where the lights shone down on the singers (and by extension us) made my night. It felt like being home, expecially the virtual white-out effect at the end. The wire mesh fancing conjured memories of Godspell. Sitting in the Prinny (where I had auditioned for Reg Livermore and the original Pirates) was a very special feeling. I remember fondly how Martin got down an accompaniment for Lady from LA (Billy Liar) from a sound recording of Andrew's and how stunned Livermore was to hear it sung in Melbourne.

Sitting there also took me back to seeing my first ever Opera, The Thripenny Opera. Again thanks Martin, even though we were in the Gods and I was having acrophobia. (I eventually got used to the 'nose-bleed seats' whilst on a student budget).

Life may have changed courses a number of times but I can now say I feel privileged to have seen some of the greatest performers on stage (here and in London). Just quickly coming to mind is Peter Brooke's Dream at the Maj, Derek Jacobi's Hamlet and Iago with the Old Vic here in Melbourne, Beckett Does Beckett at the Universal, Steven Berkpof's East, Burton in Equus and our own Stephen Oldfield in the MTC version, STC's Nicholas Nickleby ( a tour de force with Ruth Cracknell, John Howard and my dearest Tony Taylor amongst the stellar cast), Nimrod's Ventian Twins, the amazing Anna Volska, Ivor Kants, and Tony Sheldon in Much Ado About Nothing at the Space in Adelaide, Tony S again in Torch Song Trilogy at the Universal with the magnificent Debra Lee Furness, Mamma's Little Horror Show, most of Nigel Triffett's astounding works, attending the original APG, early La Mamma, Candide, Chicago (first season) and Nine at the Comedy theatre, Kennedy's Children at Russell Street, Jack Davis' No Sugar at Fitzroy Town Hall... the RSC and ESC. So many memorable and acclaimed productions have all gone into making me who I am, the arts lover and would-be regular patron.

All I want(need) is the cash (outside indulgent mania phases) to see Sir Ian MacKellan and the wonderful Roger Rees in Melbourne later this year, Marvin Hamlish and the MSO, Stephen Swartz in concert, and also William Hurt in Long Days Journey in Sydney. Ah, 2010 does look good through my 'theatrical goggles'.

If I could just get the writing and publication stuff under control. At least today I can honestly say that I am confident it will happen... slowly but successfully.

How's that for a positive on the scale... and in the normal range not amidst the delusions?