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Welcome to Cultural Binge
The rating system is simple:
★★★★★ – Terrific, world-standard. Don’t miss.
★★★★ – Great, definitely worth seeing.
★★★ – Good. Perfectly entertaining. Recommended. Individual mileage may vary.
★★ – Fine. Flawed and not really recommended, but you may find something to appreciate in it.
★ – Bad (& possibly offensive).
See more reviews over at The Queer Review.
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Interview: Watershed’s Historical Consultant Tim Reeves & Co-Librettist Alana Valentine.
Watershed: The Death of Dr Duncan, directed by Neil Armfield, receives its Sydney premiere this week at the Sydney Opera House, bringing the story of the homophobic murder of a South Australian man that lead to a significant change in Australian law to operatic life.
Tim Reeves, the show’s Historical Consultant, and playwright Alan Valentine, the show’s co-librettist, took some time out to help set the scene and answer some questions about the Adelaide Festival hit.
Mark Oates and Mason Kelly. Adelaide Festival 2022. Photo by Andrew Beveridge Q: To start, Tim, can you give us some of the history of Dr George Duncan and the events that inspired the opera. What was Australia like in the early 70s, especially in relation to its views on homosexuality?
TIM: Male homosexuality was still a major social taboo in Australia, and sexual acts between men were criminalised in every state and territory with the possibility of jail time. In South Australia, having sex even in the privacy of one’s own home was illegal. Many homosexual men met at beats, covert public spaces where there was always the risk of being bashed. Dr Duncan was killed at the River Torrens beat in Adelaide on 10 May 1972 after being thrown in by a group of men and drowned. Soon after a first private member’s bill was introduced into state parliament to decriminalise male homosexual acts, but it was watered down. In 1975 South Australia became the first Australian jurisdiction to embrace full decriminalisation.
Q: His murder became the catalysing incident for the LGBT movement in South Australia, leading to it becoming the first state in Australia to decriminalise homosexuality but, to me, it feels like it’s a piece of our queer history we don’t discuss enough. Has it been overlooked? Or do I just have an East Coast bias?
TIM: I am concerned that especially young queer Australian people are not aware that a horrible murder of a gay man over 50 years ago in South Australia was the trigger for dramatic legal and social changes, that eventually spread to other states and territories (Tasmania was the last to enact decriminalisation, in 1997). The many freedoms that the LGBTIQA+ community enjoys today is on the back of that shameful event. We should never forget Dr Duncan, a quiet and unassuming law academic whose violent and senseless death ultimately ricocheted around the nation.
Q: We’re in a time when LGBTQ rights are being challenged and conservative politicians are targeting trans Australians. Are we sliding back to those dark times of the early 70s?
TIM: There are many countries in the world – including in Africa and Europe, but especially America – where hard-fought LGBTIQA+ rights are being wound back. It’s so bad in America that some states are removing queer books from libraries. We are nowhere near that here in Australia. Yet while we have achieved marriage equality and other advances we should never be complacent. We must stand proud and resolute.
Watershed Company. Adelaide Festival 2022. Photo by Andrew Beveridge Q: Alana, when did you get involved in co-writing the libretto? How was it working with Christos Tsiolkas? How did that collaboration work on a practical level – did you write together or bounce ideas/versions between you?
ALANA: I was asked to write the libretto by Neil Armfield. His vision was always that I would write it with Christos Tsiolkas. On a practical level we met many times and talked about what our values, perspectives, memories and aesthetic priorities were. Christos had never co-written a libretto before whereas I had written Barbara and the Camp Dogs with Ursula Yovich so I had some hard won wisdom about creating a successful collaborative process. Christos is a bold, imaginative thinker and a passionate artist so it was a great joy to work with him and we are both very proud of the libretto we have created.
Q: How is writing a libretto different to writing a traditional play? What were the challenges with the form?
ALANA: It really is totally different writing a libretto, different to writing a traditional play because the musical form makes different emotional demands and story arcs. In both writing the book for a musical and writing a libretto for opera you realise that the story beats have to be bold and intense because there is a different time scale in relation to character and plot. Being a librettist is even very different to being a songwriter because a librettist’s songs need to move the story forward and contribute to the whole piece of the drama. A librettist is a really a songwriter combined with a dramatist.
Watershed Company. Adelaide Festival 2022. Photo by Andrew Beveridge Q: Watershed was first staged in Adelaide in 2022 (marking the 50th anniversary of the murder). How do you feel looking back at its creation with a bit of distance?
ALANA: We are very proud of how much the Adelaide gay, lesbian and queer community got behind us to tell this story. Christos and I went to a wonderful event put on by the Rainbow Hub of COTA, which is the South Australian Council on the Ageing. Many of the attendees had been part of the very hard activist fight to urge SA toward the global change of decriminalising homosexuality. They told us the most amazing stories and were fully supportive of our creative endeavours. We also went to a commemorative event that is held annually to remember Duncan by the young adults who run the University of Adelaide Pride Club on campus. Because the University is right on the banks of the Torrens River, into which Duncan was thrown and drowned, it was a particularly poignant event and Christos and I were both overwhelmed by the huge commitment to honouring Duncan’s memory that they undertake every year.
In 2022 the commemoration was a special event because it was fifty years since his death so Christos and I spoke at the event and then, with all the gathered crowd, young and old, queer and others who remembered those terrible events of 1972, we walked along the river to the Don Dunstan Playhouse and watched the premiere of the work. I can’t tell you how thrilled Christos and I were to have the support of both generations – those who lived through it and fought the good fight and those young adults who continue to fight, speak up and honour the hard won battles of the past. It really was a highlight of my working life to be involved with the focus and commitment of all these people – this huge community – who all made this change happen.
Q: Has there been any tinkering on show since its debut?
ALANA: No, audiences will see the work exactly as it was performed in Adelaide.
Q: This is your second piece to play in Sydney this year, after Send For Nellie in the Sydney Festival (and touring). Have you had a chance to slow down at all? What’s coming next for you?
ALANA: Apart from Send For Nellie I directed and wrote a work for Brandenburg Orchestra called Notre Dame which premiered in Melbourne and then played in Sydney. I also co-wrote Baleen Moondjan with Stephen Page which launched the Adelaide Festival in 2024. In June I published Wed By the Wayside with Pantera Press, a creative non-fiction memoir based on my stage play Wayside Bride and I am the writer on erth’s arc, a visual and physical theatre show for children with the most amazing puppets (all endangered animals) which is about to embark on a 40 venue tour around Australia. So I am really enjoying 2024 and just trying to make a living as a queer freelance artist in this country! Please come to see one of my shows in 2025.
Thank you both for your time and insight.
Watershed: The Death of Dr Duncan plays at the Sydney Opera House from June 14-16, 2024.
Mason Kelly and Ainsley Melham. Adelaide Festival 2022. Photo by Andrew Beveridge -
Romeo & Juliet Suite (Sydney Opera House) ★★★★
Choreographed by Benjamin Millepied. Performed by L.A. Dance Project. Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House. 5-9 Jun, 2024.
“Specificity” is the first word that comes to mind after watching Benjamin Millepied’s Romeo & Juliet Suite. Specificity in the movement, intention, camera-work and even the way it uses the Sydney Opera House itself. While it may not be technically a “site specific” work, it uses the various spaces in and around the Joan Sutherland Theatre to remarkable effect.
The rock star, French choreographer blends the languages of ballet and video into an engaging cocktail filled with neon-washed vignettes and romantic escapes that break free from the boundaries of the stage in multiple directions. A giant video screen sits behind the main stage, at times showing us an aerial view of the ensemble in motion, but more often, feeding us the point-of-view of a roving steady-cam that moves in and around the dancers as they perform. When the action moves into the auditorium, through the foyer and out onto the Opera House steps… it becomes our primary vantage point.
David Adrian Freeland, Jr and Mario Gonzalez. Photo: Daniel Boud. I do not envy any dancer performing on the concrete forecourt for any period of time, especially not on a winter’s night, but the sight of the two lovers sharing a private dance against the backdrop of the Opera House sails is too romantic and intoxicating an image to ignore.
The use of the camera doesn’t stop there. Millepied converts the rear of the stage into a dark and sexy disco, partially obscured from the audiences view. The camera follows Romeo in pursuit of Tibault down the backstage stairwell for an intense, close-quarters fight. And the camera rides with Juliet as the stage descends into the theatre’s pit, turning what is usually a basement for storage and set-changes, into Juliet’s deathly mausoleum.
Photo: Daniel Boud. Remarkably, Millepied knows when to use the video screen to enhance emotions and when to turn it off and focus on the stage. There are things the camera excels at like giving us close ups of love-filled eyes, or playing with our knowledge of cinematic language to act as a storytelling short-hand. As Lorrin Brubaker’s Tibault (giving me very strong Saltburn vibes) glares at the camera under a wash of red light, we know he has murder in mind. The camera also forces perspective, giving the stage extra depth, and showing us angles the seated audience would never normally be privy to.
Photo: Daniel Boud. Romeo & Juliet Suite is performed by different couples in different pairings depending on which performance you attend. Opening Night saw the male/male pairing of Romeo (David Adrian Freeland, Jr) and Juliet (Mario Gonzalez). Future performances will feature a female/female pairing, and male/female pairing.
Millepied is no stranger to the world of cinema (having worked on films like Black Swan, Dune and directed his own feature, Carmen, starring Paul Mescal), and at times the carefully choreographed video work feels like a we’re watching a luxury fragrance campaign as much as a dance piece. It’s this intimate knowledge of both forms that makes Romeo & Juliet Suite so seamless. Even Sergei Prokofiev’s iconic score feels cinematic from repeated use in films.
Photo: Daniel Boud. I realise I’ve focused on the technical aspects of the show above that of the actual dance and dancers on stage. The choreography highlights the tribal nature of the Capulets and Montagues, with Shu Kinouchi’s Mercutio shining with his exuberant leaps. Mario Gonzalez’s Juliet is given more lyrical moves that quickly sell the characters innocence. Group numbers are tight and precise, at times feeling like a more contemporary music video for their energy.
Photo: Daniel Boud. Romeo & Juliet Suite will infuriate some. As we left the theatre I heard grumbles from people who thought the camera was intrusive, but after seeing shows like Kip Williams’ The Picture of Dorian Gray (and Ivo Van Hove’s disastrous Opening Night), the presence of a single camera operator wasn’t distracting in the least.
It’s exhilarating to see the Sydney Opera House be used so completely by a ballet without boundaries and with the rotating casts it warrants multiple viewings. Benjamin Millepied’s Romeo & Juliet Suite is no mere gimmick, it’s a fantastic synthesis of storytelling disciplines.
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dog (KXT on Broadway) ★★★
Written by shayne. KXT on Broadway. May 24 – Jun 8, 2024
Laneikka Denne, who wrote Belvoir 25a’s Feminazi last year that I loved, takes centre stage with a fearless, raw performance as Sister in playwright shayne’s mental health drama, dog, a two hander about siblings dealing with the ramifications of living with, and living with someone with, Contamination Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
Laneikka Denne. Photo: Clare Hawley Sister is struggling to function in the world due to her OCD. Having moved in with their brother (Jack Patten), the siblings struggle to navigate their lives around each other. Brother can’t understand Sister’s condition, thoughtlessly pushing them into states of distress without realising it. One day he tries to do something nice by buying Sister a puppy. At first things are good, but Sister’s OCD soon starts to impact the innocent pet as well.
The content warnings for dog are comprehensive. Playwright shayne was on hand in the foyer to talk the audience through them as they entered and it’s clear to see why they are taking them so seriously. This is a confronting show. Denne plays Sister’s distress forcefully, without a shred of vanity, in extended, wordless sequences of OCD sanitising objects and their own body, that show the extremes of their mental condition. This goes far beyond the “wipe everything down” early days of Covid-19. It’s not a show for the squeamish.
Jack Patten. Photo: Clare Hawley With no backstory or explanation, the audience is left to sit in the moment with Sister and Brother. Has Sister always suffered from OCD? We think not judging by Brother’s reactions. What set it off? We are given no clues.
Brother and Sister have a suitably rough but affectionate dynamic, pushing each other without the need for social graces. As Brother drinks too much and obsesses about his ex, Sister tries to present a sense of normality, despite the multiple bottles of antiseptic that litter every flat surface.
Jack Patten and Laneikka Denne. Photo: Clare Hawley The static locale is given dynamism thanks to Frankie Clarke’s lighting and Aisling Bermingham’s excellent sound design. The space breathes with life. Ruby Jenkins’ set design provides a raw and real backdrop and director Kim Hardwick melds all this together to produce a chilling, rural gothic tale.
With little dialogue, and little plot driving the story, dog is not a comfortable watch. The audience sits with the characters in their pain and watches that pain harm innocent others with no narrative arc giving us hope for a resolution.
Jack Patten and Laneikka Denne. Photo: Clare Hawley In showing us the realism of Contamination OCD, dog refuses to let us look away and the result is confronting. The show never quite elevates the situation into a compelling narrative to carry the audience through, but then maybe that’s the point… there is no reprieve from such a mental condition.
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POV (Belvoir 25a) ★★★★
Written by Mark Rogers. Belvoir 25a. 28 May – 16 Jun, 2024.
The ever inventive re:group collective have arrived downstairs at Belvoir with POV, an experiment in blending theatre and documentary that looks at the effects of parental mental illness through the literal lens of an eleven year old girl named Bub.
POV’s main conceits are 1) that Bub (played by Mabelle Rose and Edie Whitehead depending on the performance) has brought in two professional actors to play her parents in reenactments for a documentary she is making about them, and 2) that the two real actors playing the fictional actors playing her parents, are actually completely unrehearsed and must take direction onstage in real time.
Every little thing about POV feels fresh. From the topic it’s tackling, the way it chooses to handle it and the unrehearsed nature of two thirds of the performances. There is the thrill of the unexpected at every turn. The creative team of Mark Rogers, Solomon Thomas, Malcolm Whittaker, Steve Wilson-Alexander and Carly Young has made a show that so completely itself it is a marvel.
On one level you’re watching a show about a child processing her mother’s bipolar disorder, and on another you’re watching two actors (on opening night it was Tom Conroy and Vaishnavi Suryaprakash, a different unannounced couple will take the roles each night) throw themselves into an unexpected scenario and see how they react. The show plays out both realities at the same time with a script laced with moments of meta-humour. It feels like an improv class mixed with a cruel joke on the pair of actors brave enough to step in as Bub’s parents. POV has a seat-of-your-pants, anything-could-happen energy. Somehow neither aspect distracts from the other.
Like a magician, the show lays its mechanics out for all to see, usually to comedic effect. Only once you think you understand the parameters, it surprises you. The two unprepared actors read out the instructions they were given in advance to the audience. Each step builds the audience’s trust and sense of authenticity. That well earned faith keeps us invested in the emotional story, even when there is a thick layer of technical wizardry between the viewers and the performers.
Intriguingly the short show (around 70 minutes long) is happy to take time for the technology to do its thing. We sit and watch as the camera is repositioned and reset, watch a polaroid develop in real time, pause while an air-mattress inflates. It’s a rare example of technology forcing us to be contemplative, rather than rushing us through moments.
And, as I’m coming to expect from the re:group collective, literal perspective is everything. The framing of the camera can change how you feel about a moment in front of you. They use the language of film to manipulate us in real time. The fact that they tell us what they’re doing in advance doesn’t alter the impact. We love Bub’s parents because we see them through her eyes, not just our own.
Of course, being live theatre filled with technical details, not everything works perfectly. Sometimes it’s very funny, other times it feels like things are missed. Rushed camera work doesn’t give the lens time to autofocus. Sometimes awkwardly framed shots mean we are distracted by the tech and not invested in the scene.
Having now seen two wildly different but equally audacious shows from re:group collective I’m definitely a fan. If this is what they can achieve on a budget of just $2500, we should throw money at them and give them a bigger stage… the results could be electrifying.
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Never Closer (Belvoir) ★★★
Written by Grace Chapple. Belvoir St Theatre. 25 May – 16 Jun, 2024.
Grace Chapple’s debut play, Never Closer, is a shockingly assured first outing. Sharp characters, tight plotting and witty dialogue combine to deliver an almost watertight script. This production, transplanted from Belvoir’s smaller 25a programme, gets a bigger budget to play with and the result is a crowd pleaser.
It’s 1987 and five former school friends unexpectedly reunite in their Northern Ireland hometown on Christmas Eve. Naimh (Mabel Li) moved to London to study medicine and Mary (Ariadne Sgouros) is back from Belfast with news that she’s moving to America. They find Deirdre (Emma Diaz) and Jimmy (Raj Labade) unchanged, still living at their homes, their lives seemingly stuck in a rut and Conor (Adam Sollis), Naimh’s ex-boyfriend, spiralling down an all-too-familiar cycle of loss.
Photo: Brett Boardman. The play opens a decade earlier in 1977, showing the five friends having one last drunken gathering before Niamh moves away. Despite the protestations that they won’t just become “winter friends”, meeting during the obligatory Christmas trips home, the optimism feels hopelessly naive. It’s clear there’s an attraction between Deirdre and Jimmy that they both deny, and that the friendship between Deirdre and Niamh is the core of the group. Cut to 10 years later and things are shattered. Niamh hasn’t been home to visit in the intervening years, Deirdre is in a “situation-ship” with Conor and Jimmy is wondering where that last decade has gone. Oh, and Mary is a raging alcoholic.
Photo: Brett Boardman. Chapple’s script weaves the plot together in stages, balancing the personal dramas with the wider world these five characters live in. Set in the Troubles, they are all marked by the violence and tension around them, torn between their nationalism, religion and personal desire for freedom. It’s this dance between multiple motivations that Chapple excels at. Each character is clear and consistent and always moving toward their goals, even if that means moving away from each other. It’s a lovely balance of comedy, romance and drama that feels very familiar and human.
Director Hannah Goodwin foregrounds the comedy (and onstage Sgouros once again emerges as the MVP of the show). Phoebe Pilcher’s lighting excels at giving scenes nuance. The repeated invocation of ghostly presence is beautifully realised. Strong, grounded performances from the whole ensemble add to make this flow like a polished machine.
Photo: Brett Boardman. But as I watched Never Closer I couldn’t shake a nagging question… Why?
Why are we telling an original story about sectarian violence in Ireland in the 1970s and 80s, in Sydney in the 2020s? Where is the verisimilitude in this? Like some of the accents, the basis of the story felt clichéd and second-hand. This feeling was only strengthened by some plot events that I won’t spoil, but were a bit too clearly signposted and predictable. The big dramatic event felt, well, boring.
Photo: Brett Boardman. It’s clear Grace Chapple has the makings of a formidable playwright. Structurally bullet-proof, funny and engaging – Never Closer feels like the work of a more seasoned writer. If this is the first word in her writing career, I can’t wait to hear what she has to say next.
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Death of a Salesman (Theatre Royal Sydney) ★★★★½
Written by Arthur Miller. Theatre Royal Sydney. 17 May – 23 June, 2024.
Sometimes the problem with “great plays” is that they’re treated with spine-numbing reverence. And few plays are as lauded as Arthur Miller’s Pulitzer Prize winning Death of a Salesman. Repeatedly named as the “The Greatest Play of the 20th Century” it’s shadow looms large on all who step into Willy Loman’s battered shoes. The thing that makes Neil Armfield’s new production so effective is how it steps outside the boundaries and focuses us in on the broken characters on the stage.
The Australian cast in Death of a Salesman. Photo: Brett Boardman. The big marquee drawcard here is acclaimed film actor Anthony LaPaglia making his long awaited Australian stage debut in this production (that started in Melbourne last year). And LaPaglia is great. He carries the weight of a generation of men struggling to hold it together. Men who buckled under the self imposed expectations and dreams for their lives and their children. LaPaglia’s Willy Loman is never quite in the same space as the other characters, lost in his own memories and wishes for the future he stumbles from moment to moment. As his stature and delusions are stripped away from him one-by-one the humiliation is writ large on his imposing body. This isn’t a showy performance, but a stoic and quiet one.
Anthony LaPaglia and Alison Whyte. Photo: Jeff Busby. Around his centre of gravity the other performances shine. Alison Whyte is luminous as Linda Loman. A strong woman who is undercut by her fear, trying to hold the family together. She holds the stage with a gravitas and unyielding strength that makes her dynamic without moving a muscle. Ben O’Toole straddles the lovable/loathable divide as Willy & Linda’s younger son Happy Loman – a philandering dilettante with no goals other than his own instant gratification. But it’s Josh Helman, as the older son Biff, who really makes his mark. Helman’s Biff is a broken man-child who was raised for greatness he could never achieve and his self-loathing is crushing him. The towering Helman brings a shattered pathos to the role as a man who just can’t adjust to his fall from grace. It’s a wonderful performance, the likes of which I’ve not had a chance to see from him on screen – maybe he should do more theatre?
The Australian cast in Death of a Salesman. Photo: Brett Boardman. In a brilliant move, Armfield and set designer Dale Ferguson have staged the domestic play by the bleachers of Ebbets Field, a football stadium and the site of Biff’s glory days. With the cast always watching the scene’s play out in front of them, silently observing, it reminds us of how commonplace these tragedies are. We walk past them every day. This abstract arena also reorients the story slightly away from Willy and onto Biff. It is his “field of dreams” that never comes true.
Anthony LaPaglia and Josh Helman. Photo: Jeff Busby. At around three hours long, I was concerned at how I’d go. While I found the first act a bit static, the longer second act flew by. With only minimal set changes and an almost universally muted colour scheme, I felt the show would benefit from more dynamic lighting, but these are minor niggles. For a play of its length and subject matter it is surprisingly fleet-footed.
The great tragedy of Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman isn’t how it ends, it’s the fact it is still appallingly relevant. Too many men are trying to silently weather their pressures without asking for help, and too few are taught to process their emotions in a healthy fashion. It’s not hard to see the rage of many disenfranchised men in the world these days stems from a similar, broken sense of manhood with equally disastrous outcomes. 75 years after it was first written, we’re still struggling to pay attention.
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Switzerland (Ensemble Theatre) ★★★½
Written by Joanna Murray-Smith. Ensemble Theatre. 3 May – 8 Jun, 2024.
In art, as in life, timing is everything, and sometimes that comes down to simple luck. I can’t imagine the team at Ensemble Theatre knew that Netflix would drop its long anticipated ‘Ripley’, a new adaptation of Patricia Highsmith’s ‘The Talented Mr Ripley’ starring “he’s-so-hot-right-now” Andrew Scott, at the same time as they had programmed Joanna Murray-Smith’s play Switzerland in which Highsmith considers writing a new Ripley novel as she nears the end of her life… but synchronicity is a wonderful thing.
In her later years, Highsmith (Toni Scanlan) has retreated to the Swiss Alps when Edward (Laurence Boxhall) , a lackey from her publishing company, arrives in an attempt to convince her to write one more, definitive Tom Ripley novel. Despite her protestations, she warms to the enthusiastic youth but slowly learns that his devotion is not what it seems.
Toni Scanlon. Photo: Brett Boardman To all reports, the real Patricia Highsmith was not a particularly nice person. Abrasive, racist, provocative, but undeniably smart, she was a woman of paradoxes (despite being outspokenly anti-semitic, she has serious relationships with two Jewish women). Murray-Smith translates this into a cantankerous but funny recluse, brought to life by Scanlan. She is always spoiling for a fight, and is excited to spar with Edward – her rage comes out most when he appears to give in.
Toni Scanlan & Laurence Boxhall. Photo: Brett Boardman. Both Scanlan and Boxhall dance around each other in a powerplay of age, intelligence and expectations – both trying to corner the other into revealing their true thoughts. Highsmith pushes Edward to come up with a scenario worthy of Ripley and the result is like watching fan fiction being written under the original author’s eye. In some ways it is almost parental. As the first two acts dissect Highsmith’s legacy, and the act of creation more broadly, Murray-Smith never delves too deeply into the particular psychology of Highsmith – there doesn’t seem to be a great deal of specificity to the character and she could, in many ways, be replaced by any other famous author (imagine Conan Doyle considering one more Sherlock book, or Fleming one more Bond).
Laurence Boxhall & Toni Scanlan. Photo: Brett Boardman The character of Edward is a talentedly malleable foil for Highsmith. An adoring fan with his own motivation for wanting another Ripley story, he has been designed to get under her skin and push her in the directions the narrative wants to take. There is an element of camp beneath both performances, an arch sensibility that hints to the audience that not everything here is what it seems. Both characters are performing for each other in an attempt to manipulate.
Set & lighting design by Veronique Benett creates a believably chilling Swiss bunker, making use of the Ensemble’s height. One particular lighting cue near the end brought to mind some of Hitchcock’s iconic film imagery. A cabinet full of weapons takes the concept of Chekhov’s Gun to ridiculous lengths.
Laurence Boxhall. Photo: Brett Boardman The third act is where you will either be delighted or deflated by the evening. I won’t spoil the creative decisions Murray-Smith takes, but will say the audience was audibly shocked by the ending that is in many ways poetic, maybe too neat and poetic. Edward is almost reduced to a plot device and his character doesn’t quite ring true in retrospect. As a homage to Highsmith’s writing I thought it fell into pastiche rather than the intended tribute.
Using Highsmith and her literary creations to look at the concept of artistic legacy is definitely an interesting angle, and Switzerland takes the idea for a good spin, before pivoting away from introspection towards pure entertainment. And you definitely will be entertained.
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Parade (Seymour Centre) ★★★½
Music & lyrics by Jason Robert Brown. Book by Alfred Uhry. Seymour Centre. May 9-25, 2024.
There is a timeliness to director Mark Taylor’s new rendition of Parade that the creative team could not have anticipated when this went into productionin early 2023. With anti-semitism on the rise in Australia it is right that we’re reminded of the dangers of scapegoating “the other” in society. So yeah, this ain’t no “feel good” show but damn it is a beauty.
Inspired by the true murder of a 14 year old girl in Atlanta, Georgia in which Jewish bookkeeper Leo Frank was accused and tried, Parade charts the court case that ran on for nearly three years, attracted the attention of lawyers from the North and became a flashpoint for racism in America leading to the formation of the Anti-Defamation League, and a revival of the KKK.
Cast of Parade. Photo: Matthew Chen. Atlanta in 1913 was on edge. The end of the Civil War was within recent memory, and the Atlanta Race Riots of 1906 had only recently passed. White Georgians felt aggrieved and black Georgians were living in fear. Into this comes Jewish Leo Frank (Aaron Robuck), a New York native refusing to assimilate to the South despite the protestations of his wife Lucille (Montana Sharp). When Mary Phagan’s body is found in a local factory where Leo worked, he is instantly a suspect. Standing aloof from the locals, the university educated Leo is an easy target when Governor Slaton (Nic Davey-Greene) pushes the police to make a conviction… any conviction. But when lawyers from the North get involved, the local KKK become determined to see this Jewish man pay the price.
Cast of Parade. Photo: Matthew Chen. The score to Parade by Jason Robert Brown (The Last Five Years, The Bridges of Madison County, Songs for a New World) stands out as one of his very best. With measured use of discordant tones to balance out his romantic pop-melodies the show avoids the emotional treacle of some of his other works. When you hit an anthemic show tune it is well earned and twice as impactful.
Aaron Robuck. Photo: Matthew Chen. Thankfully the cast is loaded with big voices. Adeline Hunter, who was brilliant in The 25th Annual Putnam Spelling Bee at Hayes last year, again shines as the murdered teenager Mary. James Frampton, Maverick Newman and Liam Wigney also impress with their sharp vocals that cut through the sometimes muddy sound. But this show revolves around Leo and Lucille and both Aaron Robuck and Montana Sharp know how to sell a musical number. Sharp especially is aided by the fact she has the best numbers in the show. When the whole ensemble sings, the harmonies are electric.
This production is almost too keen to show off what it can do. Sidney Younger’s lighting is dramatic and moody (I shudder to think what the lighting desk’s cue sheet looks like). Harry Gill’s set is similarly ominous. Director Taylor and choreographer Freya List time set changes to the beat, making the movement of chairs and tables into violent stabs of percussion. It’s impressive, but also overwhelming – almost distracting from the story. Sometimes you just want the performers to stand still and let their song hit the audience.
Montana Sharp and Aaron Robuck. Photo: Matthew Chen. With all the busy movement not all the important moments land and it causes some problems as things go on. The show-starting anthem “The Old Red Hills of Home” felt anaemic after the bold percussion that opened the show. By the time James Frampton leads the ensemble in “It Don’t Make Sense” things are truly back on track though. Similarly the Act 2 opener “It Goes On and On” was lost in muffled vocals and complex choreography meaning vital plot points were missed.
When Parade was revived on Broadway in 2023, the first preview was protested by Neo-Nazis. A sure sign the message of the show is as relevant now as always. This new, local production refuses to sit back meekly, and dares you to take in the impact racism, especially anti-semitism, has on us all.
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London: The Musicals
Two Strangers (Carry a Cake Across New York) ★★★★★ / Standing at the Sky’s Edge ★★★1/2 / Sister Act ★★★ / London Tide ★★1/2
I saw a bit of an odd-ball selection of musicals to be honest. Some were more experimental than others. The best by far was Two Strangers (Carry A Cake Across New York). If you want to read my rant about Ivo van Hove’s Opening Night then click here. But for other, more positive reviews, read on.
TWO STRANGERS (CARRY A CAKE ACROSS NEW YORK) ★★★★★
Written by Jim Barne & Kit Buchan. Criterion Theatre, London.
This is one of those little musicals that the UK does so well. A tight two-hander with great pop/MT tunes (think Sarah Bareillis or Pasek & Paul) and a great rom-com story. All the basic elements are in place, and then every department has overdelivered to produce a practically perfect show.
Teen heart-throb Sam Tutty, returning to the stage after his Olivier-winning professional debut in Dear Evan Hansen, has “adorable/nerdy” down pat playing Dougal, a young English guy who comes to New York to attend the wedding of the biological father he’s never met. He’s greeted at the airport by Robin (Dujonna Gift), the bride’s sister who is close to his age. As they spend the day together doing wedding errands, it’s clear there is an attraction between them, but also that they both have a lot more going on under the surface.
I can’t tell you how good this show is, I just wish everyone had the chance to see it. Writers Jim Barne and Kit Buchan have made a bulletproof story that hits all the heights of a rom-com but backs it up with smart dialogue and moments that make both characters memorable from the first instant. For all the artificial tropes of the genre, everything here is rooted in deep emotional realities that most musicals gloss over. When Dougal and Robin go on a New York shopping spree, the extreme behaviour has been backed up by fine character work and well paced plot revelations that make the euphoria feel well earned but also tinged with further sadness.
The tunes are instantly hummable (I downloaded the 8 song EP instantly and have been playing it on loop ever since). It’s great because the recording captures not just the melody but the character and exquisite timing of both performers. Gift gives Robin a dry but caring sarcasm that I can easily see being overlooked by lesser performers. It makes her lovable even when she’s being utterly dismissive. Her look of disbelief at Dougal’s unbridled enthusiasm is bliss. At every instant she is THIS CLOSE to saying “oh hell no” and walking off the stage, but there is an inner smile that draws her back. Meanwhile Tutty’s Dougal is filled with gleeful levity, undercut by the reality of his situation. His song “About to go in” is a mini-novella in itself, just brilliant storytelling delivered perfectly.
On top of all of this, the design work by Soutra Gilmour does so much heavy lifting. A collection of suitcases, of various sizes, on the stage transform into hotel rooms, the streets of Brooklyn, a Chinese restaurant, the subway and more. All the while establishing an iconic look for the show. In a show full of perfectly timed grace-notes, this set takes the cake.
So yeah, I love this show. It’s destined to have a long shelf life due to the strength of the book and music, plus the fact it’s a two-hander for younger MT performers. Every theatre school graduate will want to stage this. It will hopefully save us from yet another fringe version of Jason Robert Brown’s The Last Five Years.
STANDING AT THE SKY’S EDGE ★★★1/2
Music & lyrics by Richard Hawley. Book by Chris Bush. Gillian Lynne Theatre, London.
This has been on my “must see” list since its original run at the National Theatre that had friends and critics raving. And it did not disappoint thanks to the gorgeous set design by Ben Stones – this show towers above you, as a story about a famous housing estate should. This is the kind of show that would really make use of the Seymour Center’s cavernous York Theatre – although it wouldn’t be large enough.
The script is inventive in the way it weaves the stories of three households, set in different time periods (the 60s, 80s and 10s) with links that grow clearer with time, but aren’t telegraphed in advance. Seeing the three families inhabit the same space, often at the same, gives the story a real sense of history and depth. This is the story of a place as much as it is of the individuals within it.
As a lover of Brutalist architecture, the look and feel of the show appealed (it would have been wonderful to see it in the Brutalist masterpiece that is the National Theatre on London’s Southbank, but the Gillian Lynne contains many of the same aspects). It evokes a sense of modernity and menace at the same time – both utopian and dystopian dreams coming true.
The performances were engrossing, but i’ll be honest in saying that the songs were mostly forgettable (nice, but nothing stuck in the ear). It was the characters that held my attention the most. The ending may be a bit melodramatic, but this is a musical after all, we expect that kind of thing. I’ll be surprised if it doesn’t bring a tear to the eye. I would love an NT Live broadcast of this one to see it again.
SISTER ACT ★★★
Music by Alan Menken. Lyrics by Glenn Slater. Book by Cheri & Bill Steinkellner. Dominion Theatre, London.
To its credit, it’s not a jukebox musical but I think casual punters may be a bit miffed to not hear ANY of the music from the film. Instead we have an all-original score by the legendary Alan Menken (praise be!) And the music is pretty damn fun.
Like most movie-to-musical adaptations the problems all lie in the hammy, frankly awful book tying it all together. There is zero emotional connection between the characters as they plod their way through the plot mechanics. The comedy is, for the most part, deathly dull and the pace pointlessly slow (each character gets a number, for no reason).
The staging is one of the most lazy examples of “we’ve designed this so it can tour without a problem” I’ve seen in a while. Scene changes are lifeless and the whole show lacks any kind of direction. Apart from one wonderful quick change, it left me feeling cold.
But vocally I can’t deny it has punch and the tunes are full of fun and energy. It’s one of those shows that would almost be better in concert than it is fully staged. I’ll be very interested to see the local production and see how it compares.
LONDON TIDE ★★1/2
Adapted by Ben Power. Based on Charles Dickens’ Our Mutual Friend. Songs by PJ Harvey and Ben Power. National Theatre, London.
Three hours and fifteen minutes long. Let me repeat that, THREE HOURS and FIFTEEN MINUTES long. You’ve got to be hot damn amazing to justify that kind of length, and London Tide just is not up to the task.
The two names attached to London Tide that had me interested were songwriter PJ Harvey, whose 2000 album ‘Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea’ is one of my all time favourites, and director Ian Rickson who has been one of best, most dependable directors on the scene for decades now.
It looks like there are two main causes for the running time blow out. Firstly this is a Charles Dickens adaptation (by Ben Power), with a sprawl of characters and plots that weave in and out of one another. Basically it’s hard to simplify. Secondly, turning this story into a musical? It’s more of a play with the occasional song, but instead of being musical theatre numbers that propel the plot and reveal inner emotions, these songs mainly reiterate what we already know. Frankly, this would have been better off as a straight play.
Set designer Bunny Christie and lighting designer Jack Knowles have produced a stage that both delights and frustrates. It is cavernous and drab, a sparse space to emulate the grimes shadows of Thameside East London. The near constantly movement of the lighting rig (which undulates above the performers like waves on the river) is a wonderful effect but prove distracting when there is nothing below to visually anchor the audiences attention. Dark costumes on a dark, blank stage made the length feel longer. The personal highlight for me was watching as the stage floor of the Lyttleton Theatre as it began to rise and tip – I had no idea the stage could do that.
PJ Harvey’s songs didn’t elevate the story at all. Repetitive and droning, they lacked the energy required to give life to the action. The numbers in the second act were better, and served to punctuate the emotions well, but by they point I was worn out by the folk-like dirges. The opening number especially set the show off on the wrong foot.
This feels like a show that’s been in development for a while and they decided to throw it on the stage prematurely, probably to clear the decks for the new incoming Artistic Director.
The National Theatre has always had mixed results with their original musicals, especially the ones bringing in songwriters from the pop and rock world. Tori Amos’ The Light Princess and Damon Albarn’s Wonder.land were both bold experiments that never really gelled, and London Tide belongs on that list. It’s this spirit of experimentation that brings me back each time though, while these shows may not be successful, every now and then they produce wonderful shows like Hadestown, Standing at the Sky’s Edge or London Road that push the boundaries of musical theatre.
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London: The Plays (Part Two)
Long Day’s Journey Into Night ★★★ / For Black Boys Who Have Considered Suicide When The Hue Gets Too Heavy ★★★★★ / Remembrance Monday ★★★ / Spirited Away ★★★1/2
Ironically these four plays all played within a few blocks of each other despite the fact they come from very different places – one is a big star-filled West End play, one a black box fringe show, another a critically adored transfer from a respected smaller theatre, and one a big extravaganza on an operatic scale. This kind of variety is why I love London.
I’ve already published thoughts on a variety of other plays here, and here as well.
LONG DAY’S JOURNEY INTO NIGHT ★★★
Written by Eugene O’Neil. Wyndham’s Theatre, London.
This was an unexpected treat as a friend couldn’t attend and gave me their very good tickets. Starring Brian Cox and Patricia Clarkson, this is one of the hot West End shows and the audience was packed.
Shame it was so dull.
Cox and Clarkson’s sonorous voices wrapped around the rich text, but something felt… well like it was running on autopilot. Nothing felt fresh or revelatory, just exactly what you expect from these two great performers. Which is exactly what the audience wanted I suppose.
Am I glad I saw it? Definitely. Both Cox and Clarkson are excellent. I think I would have preferred some slightly more unexpected casting to bring a new flavor to this very familiar story but this one does exactly what it sets out to do. Undoubtably high quality theatre, just a bit uninspired. Maybe jet lag influenced my feelings here.
FOR BLACK BOYS WHO HAVE CONSIDERED SUICIDE WHEN THE HUE GETS TOO HEAVY ★★★★★
Written by Ryan Calais Cameron. Garrick Theatre, London.
Wow! This one is a real astonishing piece of theatre that drew a new audience in. Six black men discuss the complexities of growing up male and black in Britain. Multi-layered and surprisingly funny (with a lot more music than I expected), it played with stereotypes and the expectations we place on black men and the empowering and limiting ways black culture influences each.
This is one of those plays that has everything you want. It has a clear, in-your-face social commentary, action, comedy, tenderness and a positivity the title may deny. It is told with brilliantly reserved stagecraft that is focused on delivering its message to the audience that needs to hear it.
The thing that really grabbed me was the way this audience reacted. A mixture of the “regular” UK theatre set (predominantly white middle class, retirees and tourists), black couples & groups, and a school group. The audience was laughing and engaged, vocal in their recognisition and appreciation of the stories being shared… till one of the characters talks about being black and gay. A group of men in the audience loudly reacted in shock and disgust, quickly shushed by the audience. The performers were undeterred, but there was a harsher edge to the scene’s closing monologue about the extra difficulties facing queer blackness. The whole mini episode made me more excited for the show – that has clearly reached out beyond the bog standard crowd.
For Black Boys… was probably the best thing I saw on my whole trip (People, Places and Things would be the only other contender) and I really hope we get a local production sooner rather than later.
REMEMBRANCE MONDAY ★★★
Written by Michael Batten. Seven Dials Playhouse, London.
Stepping away from the fun and grandeur of other shows, this is a fringe two-hander that at first glance seems to be about a couple starting to drift apart, but reveals itself to be a study of early onset dementia. Spoiler alert, but for all the skin on stage, this one doesn’t have a happy ending.
I wasn’t a fan of playwright Michael Batten’s last play, Self Tape, but Remembrance Monday sees him playing with form and the rhythms of dialogue in a much more interesting way. While the staging hits a lot of classic “gay play” tropes (semi-naked, handsome young actors, lots of bathroom scenes etc), it’s when the story veers away from the relationship and into the mental state of Julius (Nick Hayes) that things get interesting.
But the play can’t escape the gravity of its situation and as Julius’ decline continues, the play gets darker and darker till it hits an end point. Not a happy-go-lucky night out, but a great chance to see Hayes and costar Matthew Stathers play some hard drama.
It’s also a good example of seeing gay characters in dramatic situations that aren’t all about their sexuality. As Julius fixates on one particular Monday night, we only discover why near the very end, the focus isn’t really on the events but on Julius’ mental decline.
SPIRITED AWAY ★★★1/2
Adapted by John Cairo and Maoko Imai. Based on the film by Hayao Miyazaki. London Coliseum.
I’ll start by saying I enjoy Miyazaki films but I am not as enamored with them as many film-friends of mine. Of them all, Spirited Away is the one I know the best.
A faithful adaptation, almost too faithful, the stage production works hard to bring the wild fluidity of the original hand-drawn animation to life with some wildly inventive puppetry. There is nothing really new here in terms of storytelling technology, but this is all about the scale.
The relatively simple set is a central building on a revolve, the spin is generally fast enough that simple scene changes flow organically. The staging itself is simply the backdrop for this cast of magical characters to fill the space.
The performances are on the level of a Japanese pantomime. Broad and over-the-top, it has an operatic feel which suits the London Coliseum well. It’s a huge opera house, a subtle performance wouldn’t translate.
Some of the spectacle works marvelously. Watching No Face grow and become more menacing was joyous (even if the mouth looked comical). Seeing a dragon fly through the air as a puppet with ribbons is so simple, but also elegant to watch. It was easy to ignore the puppeteers and just focus on the characters.
The crowd of fans was clearly loving every second of it, and as much as I was enjoying the spectacle, I can’t say I felt particularly moved by any of it. Like an adult watching a kids show, everything was too simplistic.
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Cultural Binge 