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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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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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London: The Plays (Part One)
The Hills of California ★★★1/2 / Machinal ★★★★ / Minority Report ★★★ / People, Places and Things ★★★★★
I saw a wide variety of plays from big West End blockbusters to fringe two-handers. As always, more money and bigger names doesn’t always mean it’s a better show. You can read my thoughts on Stranger Things: The First Shadow and The Picture of Dorian Gray in an earlier post, and there is another coming after this covering Long Day’s Journey into Night, Spirited Away, For Black Boys… and Remembrance Monday.
THE HILLS OF CALIFORNIA ★★★1/2
Written by Jez Butterworth. Harold Pinter Theatre, London.
Ever since the breakaway success of Jerusalem, each new Jez Butterworth play has become a major West End event. While I didn’t particularly care for The Ferryman, The Hills of California is a very different beast – to start with, it’s practically a comedy, albeit a comedy with dark undertones.
This story of a single mother who raised/is raising her four talented daughters (the play is set in two time periods), moulding them into a singing quartet ala The Andrew’s Sisters, is filled with moments of wit. Set in a guest house, in which each room is named after an American state, the core family are surrounded by a cast of peculiar characters. It’s a great setting for the story. Called “The Seaview” but featuring no view of the sea, with vaulting staircases rising high into the Harold Pinter Theatre rooftop, the place has lofty aspirations without necessarily having a solid grasp on reality.
The play bounces between the adult daughters arriving back as their mother lay on her deathbed, and flashing back to their childhood, rehearsing in the kitchen and waiting for their big break. Time has not been kind to most of them. Eldest daughter, Joan, went on to a solo singing career in America and cut off contact with the family. Second oldest, Gloria, is married to a boring man with boring children and is filled with barely concealed rage and disappointment. Jillian stayed home to care for their mother, missing out on life. And the youngest, Penny, idolises her oldest sister from afar.
The sisterly dynamics will be familiar to anyone from any number of other plays (I instantly thought of The Memory of Water at Ensemble this year). Years of resentment and pain built up over decades, all coming to a head in a moment of bereavement. Secrets are shared, but does anyone really heal?
Laura Donnelly is terrific as Veronica, their determined mother, striving to build a better life for her daughters than she has had herself. Things are less convincing when, in the second act, she appears as the adult Joan, a washed up singer still trying to live the dream. There is a common thread between the two, both women are choosing to ignore their reality to reach for something greater.
But the real stand out of the night is Helena Wilson as Jillian, the “good daughter” who has never been allowed to grow up. Watching her sisters from afar, her sadness is palpable.
Hills of California is definitely Butterworth’s most enjoyable play. Its three hour running time flies by (in part thanks to designer Rob Howell’s intricate set, I could watch the staircase spin around, like something out of Hogwarts, for hours).
But I did get to the end and think to myself, “And…?” Yes, Veronica was a pushy stage mother desperate for her children to succeed. Yes, success and fame aren’t what they’re cracked up to be. Yes, siblings take very different life routes. For all the skill involved, Hills of California doesn’t seem to have anything new to say.
MACHINAL ★★★★
Written by Sophie Treadwell. The Old Vic, London.
The Old Vic’s Machinal may be the boldest piece of theatre I’ve seen in quite some time. This revival of Sophie Treadwell’s exploration of womanhood in the modern world doesn’t hold your hand, it assaults your senses to break you, just as the Young Woman at its core is broken by the world.
Director Richard Jones has marshalled all the elements to create a pressure cooker on stage. A claustrophobic, searingly yellow set (by Hyemi Shin) combined with harsh lighting (Adam Silverman), abrupt sound (Benjamin Grant) and sharp movement work (Sarah Fahie) overrun the senses – it’s easy to see why Rosie Sheehy’s Young Woman is on the verge of a break down. Treadwell’s dialogue shouts and attacks with shrill force. The men menace without thinking about it. The blinds on the windows open to reveal nothing but more wall. This is a woman not only trapped, but attacked by modernity.
All of this means that Machinal is not an easy watch. It’s as exhausting as it is rewarding, but the unrelenting pace and immersive world the production creates won’t let you go till the curtain call. Thrilling stuff.
MINORITY REPORT ★★★
Adapted by David Haig. Based on the short story by Phillip K. Dick. Lyric Hammersmith, London.
I’ll be honest, I booked this one because I just wanted to know how they were going to tell this story on stage. I’m fascinated by attempts to do science-fiction in theatre. It usually doesn’t work, but it always pushes creatives to think a bit differently about the limitations of the stage and Minority Report did just that.
David Haig has taken the bare bones of Dick’s story and created a new tale to spin out of it. This is not an adaptation of the Tom Cruise film, even if it does hit a number of similar beats.
The story itself is neatly adapted. Julia Anderton (Jodie McNee), the head of UK pre-crime is, herself, accused of being about to commit murder. Going on the run to prove her innocence, she discovers the flaws in the system she’s been promoting and defending. Haig gives Julia an AI companion, David (Tanvi Virmani), who appears and disappears thanks to some nifty illusion work, allowing for some exposition.
The set by Jon Bausor is something of a marvel, using the depth and height of the Lyric Hammersmith to full effect. Minority Report even manages to include a futuristic car chase and gun fight. With a bit of extra polish, this could easily sit on the West End.
Unfortunately things are let down by a rushed and emotionally unsatisfying climax that’s too didactic and neat. It’s hard for theatre to pull off an action-packed finale and that drags Minority Report down. We’ll accept a bit of theatrical “running back and forth” pretending the characters are weaving their way through a cities streets, but in the end we don’t have any time to connect with Julia as a human character, and thus don’t really care for her fate.
PEOPLE, PLACES & THINGS ★★★★★
Written by Duncan Macmillan. Trafalgar Theatre, London
I never saw the original production of Duncan Macmillan’s People, Places and Things in 2015 even though I was living in London at the time. Despite the raving reviews I was cash strapped and the thought of an addiction play didn’t sound that appealing. If only I’d known it was this funny and thrilling.
Denise Gough has returned to the role that put her in the theatrical A-list. Emma is an addict who checks herself into rehab and instantly regrets the decision. She fights the process, dissects the methodology and attacks the people around her, but as her own hidden pain surfaces she comes to realise she has to deal with it or simply repeat the cycle of destruction she’s caught in.
Rather than being the over-wrought melodrama I imagined, People, Places and Things starts off like a comedy. We begin with Emma on stage, mid-performance in a production of The Seagull, clearly drunk and rambling, unable to hold herself together. Imagine a younger Patsy from Absolutely Fabulous checking into rehab, only to be stripped away from her comedic tones and brought to a place of fragile healing.
Already a fan of Duncan Macmillan’s writing (his play Lungs is possibly the only good play about the environment I’ve seen, and his adaptation of George Orwell’s 1984 was also impressive), People, Places and Things is a thing of beauty. The script is sharp and witty but laced with danger. The running joke that all the therapists look like Emma’s mother (all played by Sinéad Cusack) seems like a joke about the limitations of casting, but evolves into a more serious thread. The audacity of ending the first act with Emma screaming about the fact there is a bar just outside threatens to jump the shark but manages to tip toe along the line – although considering the subject matter I couldn’t bring myself to order any alcohol.
Bunny Christie’s design is instantly iconic. Clinical and white, the set hides its complexity, blending projections, lighting and props that come from all directions. Gough inhabits the role of Emma completely and the passage of nine years since the original production doesn’t seem to have altered the character. This is the sort of role that any actress would kill for. Onstage for the entire play, Emma is funny, charming, abrasive and ultimately broken to pieces. Has this ever been staged in Australia? I can’t find any record of it happening (I assume it hasn’t be put up for licensing?) but I sincerely hope it finds a home here, or at least an NT Live broadcast.
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London: The Cine-theatre
Stranger Things: The First Shadow ★★★★ / The Picture of Dorian Gray ★★★★★ / Opening Night ★★ / ABBA: Voyage ★★★★
The collision of technology and the stage is nothing new but across all the shows I saw in London, a few used the blend of cameras, screens and live performance better than others – and yes, I’m proud to say Kip Williams’ The Picture of Dorian Gray blew them all away.
Let’s start with the most basic…
STRANGER THINGS: THE FIRST SHADOW ★★★★
Written by Kate Trefry. Story by The Duffer Brothers, Jack Thorne & Kate Trefry. Based on Stranger Things by The Duffer Brothers. Phoenix Theatre, London.
For all you members of Hellfire out there, yes this is very much part of the show’s official canon. No, you don’t really need to see it. If you’ve seen Season 4 of the show, you’ll know almost everything that happens here as this is essentially one long version of the flashbacks to Vecna’s childhood you’ve already seen. The real fun is seeing what the adult character’s we know and love were doing in their high school years (not all are what you expect).
The star of the show is the on-stage special effects, which don’t quite hit the inventive heights of Harry Potter and The Cursed Child, but are very effective in giving the stage the scope of a VFX-filled TV show. Not cine-theatre in the strictest sense, merely a show that blurs the lines between screen and stage, there is an interesting interplay between the world of Stranger Things that we know from our TV screens and what happens live. For instance, The First Shadow has the traditional Stranger Things opening credits (Act One is Episode One, Act Two is Episode Two).
Some canny use of projections, puppets and screens give the effects a truly three-dimensional feel. But it’s the more subtle stage tricks that really seal the deal. As young Henry Creel (Louis McCartney) starts to hurt animals, the audience sees a mixture of puppetry and real animals (or possibly filmed footage of real animals blended into the set) that gives it a verisimilitude it would have been lacking. Some terrific lighting and smart casting tricks the audience into believing characters can be in two places at once.
The cast are excellent playing younger versions of the on screen adults. Isabella Pappas has a voice almost identical to Winona Ryder’s making her Joyce uncannily similar. Young Hopper (Oscar Lloyd) is recognizable as the screen character with some of the youthful bravado of Steve from Season 1. Eddie Munson’s father Alan (Max Harwood) is a surprise in a variety of ways.
Does this add to the lore of the show? Yes, it introduces an earlier start date to the understanding of the alternate dimension they call the “Upside Down” – tied to the Philadelphia Experiment (which may not completely fit with the show’s continuity). It also made me want to rewatch Season’s 2 and 4 again to look for the links with Henry Creel and Bob Newby (played by Sean Austin on the TV show) as I didn’t recall Bob mentioning a sister. Also (spoilers for Season 4 ahead) on the TV show Henry Creel said he’d never met the mind flayer till Eleven sent him to the Upside Down, but here it says he encountered it as a child. None of these seem like irreparable continuity gaffs, more like classic Marvel Comics “No Prizes” (the kind of contradictions you can easily ignore for a good story).
And on a completely different note, (minor spoiler ahead) it’s weird that none of the characters baulk at the idea of Bob Newby having to kiss his own step-sister when he takes on a role in the play-within-a-play at the last minute – then again, there is a lot more dramatic stuff happening at the time.
Like most stage show, it struggles to pull off an action finale and attempting to quickly jump between scenes to build up a pace (as you would on film) can be a bit clunky, but the audience here is full of fans who are in for the ride no matter what.
THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY ★★★★★
Adapted by Kip Williams. Based on a novel by Oscar Wilde. Theatre Royal Haymarket, London.
Kip Williams’ The Picture of Dorian Gray has had an upgrade since I last saw it. No, I don’t mean the casting of Sarah Snook, I mean the technology itself has evolved into something more seamless and impressive.
I was nervous walking in to rewatch the show, because I have been raving to all my London friends for months and demanding they all spend their money to get tickets (and this production ain’t cheap or easy to get into). I had that fear of “what if they don’t like it”. It was ridiculous obviously, this is a blockbuster show both for the tech and for the central performance. Lucky for me as well, by the time I saw it in London the show had scooped up a bunch of five-star reviews and some Olivier Awards, so it was still in demand.
Snook is divine on stage. I’d only ever seen her on stage once before (The Old Vic’s production of The Master Builder in 2016) and hadn’t seen her real range. I love her TV show Succession, but that’s just one character. Here we get to see her in all her camp glory – and it is camp, far more camp than original production. Snook has a permanent wink in her eye, feeding off the audience’s gasps and cheers as the techno-organic performance keeps developing over the whole running time.
The updated tech makes the transformations smoother, although the fear of a tech breakdown did give the original a real seat-of-your-pants thrill. The audience reaction though is the same – awe. London stages have not seen anything like this and it’s absolutely thrilling. Next stop – Broadway!
OPENING NIGHT ★★
Music & Lyrics by Rufus Wainwright. Book by Ivo Van Hove. Based on the film by John Cassavetes. Gielgud Theatre, London
Oh boy… this one is rough. I am no stranger to glorious flops having sat through the original productions of both Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Stephen Ward and Love Never Dies, but Opening Night is nothing short of one man’s hubris destroying everything in its path. No, that’s not the plot of the play, just personal commentary.
I rarely lay blame for a failed production on one person, and find “naming and shaming” to be a gauche endeavour, but Opening Night’s problems all clearly stem from a single source. Director Ivo Van Hove has screwed the pooch.
Everything about this had the potential to be amazing, and I can totally understand why everyone signed on. A successful director whose work I generally like. A respected film by Cassavetes. A lead actress (Sheridan Smith) whose life mimics that of the lead character. Music by singer-songwriter and queer superstar Rufus Wainwright, who’s been earning his theatrical stripes working in opera for a while. Pile on a cast including Benjamin Walker, Hadley Fraser, Amy Lennox et al… it all looks so good.
Van Hove has always been a controversial director drawing a range of opinions but I’ve found his plays to be challenging and exhilarating when they work. His production of A View From The Bridge starring Mark Strong was a revelation. His Hedda Gabler with Ruth Wilson was less successful but still intrigued me. He even made me care for A Little Life, a book I find odious in the extreme. He’s been playing with integrating live video into his productions for a while now, but I’ve never found it to be particularly successful. In Network, there was at least a narrative connection to the video work, but in All About Eve the video screen drew focus from the stage and put an emotional barrier between the audience and the characters.
The same problem exists here with Opening Night, but is magnified. Van Hove has inserted a plot thread about a documentary crew chronicling this play-within-a-play’s journey as an excuse to put a giant screen above the stage and cameras on the set. Let’s be clear, this adds NOTHING to the story. NOT. A. THING. Worse yet, using locked off shots that are poorly framed or tight close-ups that clearly show actors microphones and wigs etc merely highlights how artificial this all is. I found myself constantly forcing myself to look away from the screen to focus on the live performers in front of me but that effort in itself was enough to pull me out of the narrative.
Then there is the incomprehensible book to the musical, written by Van Hove himself. I’ve not seen the film and have no idea what’s really going on here or what the actual core emotional story is supposed to be but this script, riddled with ridiculous dialogue, felt like a bad soap opera’s first draft rather than a professional West End show.
Myrtle (Sheridan Smith) is an actress returning to the stage after having a serious mental health emergency (famously, the same happened to Smith herself). One day outside the theatre as they’re rehearsing she sees a young fan be hit by a car. Myrtle is haunted by this young girl’s death, and starts to behave erratically during previews (which seem more like early rehearsals to be honest, but anyway…). Her co-star, and ex lover Maurice (Benjamin Walker) is struggling to draw the line between playing lovers and keeping his distance. The director Manny (Hadley Fraser) is struggling to get through to her, or his own wife Dorothy (Amy Lennox – a great actress stuck in a pointless subplot). The playwright Sarah (Nicola Hughes) is fuming on the sidelines.
But what does Myrtle want? There are some babbling speeches about defying female stereotypes and wanting to “break free”, but it’s all moody teenage babble. Instead we watch Myrtle act increasingly unhinged in the worst, stereotypical “woman going craaazzzzyyy” way. When the story ends and Myrtle gets back together with Maurice (was that even something either of them wanted?! I don’t know), I was trying to look back for the connective threads but came up wanting.
Plus, in an act of hubris, Van Hove can’t stop himself but to tempt fate. As the opening night of the play-within-a-play unfolds (no play in this state would ever actually open. The producers would have pulled the plug and replaced Myrtle weeks before), the live audience are treated to the cast apologising from the stage. “Well that was terrible,” says Maurice directly to the relatively sparse crowd. Well, I think it was Maurice, maybe it was Ben Walker himself, his delivery had the ring of truth to it. At one point Myrtle starts improvising and singing during the play’s performance, leading to the playwright shouting “Why is she singing” from the wings… as if we weren’t watching a musical full of previous musical numbers? Worse yet, she herself then proceeds to have a song of her own? It’s as if Van Hove’s own disdain from the form of musical theatre is seeping through. It’s the kind of sly dig filmmakers do when they’ve been contractually forced to make a sequel (like the film The Matrix: Resurrections).
All of which distracts from the fact that all the performers and the new tunes are terrific! I was worried about Rufus Wainwright writing a musical. His last few albums have been a bit repetitive (like most seasoned artists a few albums in, they were starting to sound like one long song instead of individual tracks). But his work here is fun, I’d happily watch a concert staging of Opening Night.
By the time the curtain fell, I couldn’t help but laugh at the show I’d seen. Where were the producers guiding this project? Where was the dramaturg pointing out that the script made no sense? Where was the skill of a talented director who previously has been able to edit his own work down to its emotional core? I felt bad for all the talents being wasted on this one. His shoddy use of video is only highlighted by the fact that a few blocks away The Picture of Dorian Gray is packing the house (with punters paying up to 300 pounds a ticket) and getting rousing ovations every performance.
And to round this off, the following isn’t strictly theatre, but the technology and storytelling on show make for very interesting viewing…
ABBA: VOYAGE ★★★★
I went in wanting to watch the seams to see how these CG avatars (or ABBAtars as they are called) work… could they really appear to be on stage? The answer is yes, for the most part. But through some clever stage work it simply doesn’t matter. They’re not trying to be real, this concert deliberately jumps the shark over the uncanny valley to be both a celebration and elevation of ABBA’s legacy.
Walking in I was prepared to watch for the trickery and some of it was immaculate, if obvious in retrospect. The show opens with screens in front of the stage playing an animated image of a snowy forest. It’s deliberately 2D in its presentation, so when these screens are removed and the CG ABBA “walk” on stage, they seem truly 3D in comparison.
A smart blending of the “fake” CG lighting and the real lighting rig in the auditorium makes the effect seamless, but again, a close eye starts to notice the edges.
From the vantage point of standing close to the stage, slightly to stage left, things were incredibly realistic but also not. Like watching CG from a few years ago you could see the not-quite-realistic touches. The four members of ABBA looked slightly 2D due to the angle I was viewing them from. The actual details of their CG outfits were remarkably sharp, almost too sharp, in the end they couldn’t quite beat the parallax errors.
But after the first few songs, I stopped caring. And so did ABBA.
At some point, the pretence of reality is thrown to the curb. As the quartet performs, side screens show close ups like any regular concert… except there are no cameras on stage to capture the angles. At times, it is less a “live concert” and more of an immersive music video with no pretence at physical reality. After carefully constructing a blend of real and fake, the show accepts its limitations and plays with its boundaries. There is banter with the audience, but it feels plastic and artificial. When they play genuine footage of ABBA performing ‘Waterloo’ at the Eurovision Song Contest, the flat verisimilitude draws a strong, positive emotional response.
The live band, and there is a live band with backing vocals on stage, also blend truth and fiction (their own close ups seemed to come from non-existent cameras). Once your brain gets accustomed to the unreality of it all, you’re free to dance and belt out the tunes. Maybe this is the apotheosis of a “post-truth world”, we openly accept the lie but enjoy it nonetheless.
I was very impressed with the way the show created its own world with its own rules as you entered the arena. Every piece of stagecraft held your hand to make sure when the moment came, you were completely enthralled in the illusion and it works beautifully.
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The Emerald Room ★★★★
Creative Director Brendan de la Hay. Dining Wed-Sun. Shownights Thu-Sat 6-9:30pm. Late night dining 9:30-midnight. High Tea Sat & Sun.
Sydney, ever needy and insecure, is always trying to convince itself it can do what the Londons, New Yorks, Hong Kongs and Paris’s of the world can do. “Sydney is a global city” we mutter to ourselves every New Year’s Day, rocking back and forth under our doonas as the rest of the world wakes up to shots of fireworks streaming from the Harbour Bridge. We have some of the world’s best restaurants, top notch theatre, internationally renowned landmarks, a “light rail” and a raging cocaine habit that puts Los Angeles in its place… we’re one of the big boys, right?
So why the **** is it so hard to get a meal in the city after 9pm?
Photo: Cultural Binge. I know there are a handful of late night options (that aren’t just fast-food venues, but even most of them are shut by 11), but now we have The Emerald Room that’s vying to be both a raucous cabaret venue and a late-night destination for dining and drinks.
Photo: The Emerald Room. So does Sydney’s new cabaret/dining locale make us green with envy, or send us all “Hulk! Smash!”? Well it’s more “Hulk! Get Smashed!” as The Emerald Room serves dinner, drinks, drag and more.
As you ascend the stairs you are welcomed by a floating sky of neon, drawing you up to the walls and walls of emerald sequins (how many Spotlight branches died to make this venue? We’ll never know).
The friendly and finely dressed staff lead you past the band into the main room, with its three stages. No matter where you sit, you’ll get an eyeful of the action. And what a room it is. Gorgeous green banquettes line the walls, with a number of “enviable up close” booths at one end. The central stage is lined with seats for some very intimate views, while the rest of the tables are scattered in the spaces. It feels busy, and as the crowd arrive the buzz grows.
Photo: The Emerald Room. The menu is small but with pleasant twists on classics, mainly due to the logistics of what is essentially “dinner theatre”. The entire room will need to be served almost simultaneously between acts. The set menu has some flare but keeps on the simple and honest side of things. The a la carte menu serves up ever-reliable options like burgers and steak. The prawn toast looks like the item to beat though.
Due to the timings, the “dinner and show” service starts early – a 6pm early bird special – but that includes plenty of time to relax and drink a cocktail or two before the dishes start to spin.
Brendan de la Hay, the Host of the Emerald Room. Photo: The Emerald Room. And then, once you’re sufficiently lubricated, Brendan de la Hay steps forth in deeply unpractical footwear to get the party started. The night is part drag, part “Cabaret” (the musical, not the genre) and part saucy Spiegeltent. Having three stages keeps the action flowing to match the torrent of wines and cocktails being poured by the Emerald Room’s army of night-cap ninjas.
On the night in question we had two burlesque acts that covered all bases. Natalya Alessi mixed silliness with her striptease, keeping things light, while Danny Golding worked the pole with sensual moves that had a pair of posturing straight boys sat round the central stage feeling very uncomfortable (the Emerald Room should hire them, their faces were very amusing).
Danny Golding. Photo: The Emerald Room. De la Hay hosts and rocks the elevated fashion drag with two Gemstones (Alex Lewtas and Catrina Ralph), while the powerhouse that is Catherine Alcorn brings the vocals and sassy laughs as Mama (dressed as a shimmering Statue of Glib-erty). They’re all backed by the three piece band of Jonathon Holmes, Amanda Jenkins and Brendan Paul.
The night is loud. From the music, the vocals and the laughs & howls from the crowd. This cavernous space rocks to the rafters in a sea of glitter and good vibes. Unlike most other performance spaces, the Emerald Room is thirsty for your socials. Each performer seems to have a radar that’s always pinging for each video or photo being taken – they’re happy to play to your screen for that perfectly capture post.
Catherine Alcorn. Photo: The Emerald Room. And when the show is over, the fun doesn’t have to stop. No one is hovering over you with the bill, in fact they’d prefer you to order another round, or two (or three in our case – the next morning was a little hazy). As the happy punters started to leave their tables, a smaller second crowd began to filter in. The room was less rowdy, but now a more intimate, more relaxed atmosphere took over. Newcomers grabbed drinks and a quick bite – the evening had never been very “formal” but now it felt like you were just as likely to have a chat with staff who were happy to banter, as you were to your friends. It had turned from a show, into a hang out.
Brendan de la Hay, Alex Lewtas and Catrina Ralph. Photo: The Emerald Room. So here’re the tough questions – is the food worth the price? Yes, but you’re not coming here for the menu. It takes second place to the show. Is the show worth it? Definitely, but I’d love to see it pushed a fraction further into the risqué. Give me enough sauce to get tongues wagging. At the moment it’s a bit closer to GATSBY at the Green Light, and not as chaotically catchy as Briefs – if you know what I mean. But it’s a tough balance, you can’t put anyone off their meals at the end of the day. It’s never going to be as boundary-pushing as the renowned and infamous The Box (you don’t want food anywhere near those acts TBH), but we don’t want this to be the same as any touring festival show. De la Hay has excellent taste, and has been on a one-person mission to bring some drama to our red carpets for years, so I trust their judgement.
Photo: The Emerald Room. Overall, I’d rank the dining as “solid”, the cocktails as “excellent” (as the sister venue to King’s Cross hidey-hole Dulcies, I’d expect nothing less), and the performances as “a ****ing great night out”. With a rotating cast and a changing menu (or even the creation of a signature “must have” menu item) I can see myself coming back multiple times. This is the kind of thing you can bring out-of-town friends to for a whole evening of entertainment and leave them with stories to take home. I already know a few people planning on using the place as a birthday event (but please, no hen’s nights!).
When you stumble out of our esteemed cultural spaces desperate for a bite, get thee to the Emerald Room for a late-night experience that will cap things off with a smile.
Professional photo credits: Tom Wilkinson, Josh Raymond, Tomo Okai and Philip Erbacher.
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Cultural Binge 