Art Smitten

Rebi, Molly and Jim chat with the members of Open Spatial Workshop, an artist group who's current exhibiton, Converging in time is on now at the Monash University Museum of Art until April 8.

See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Molly, Jim and Rebi chat with Amy Boyd, manager of the Vivien Anderson Gallery, about the 2017 Women's Show, featuring 20 Aboriginal & Torres Strait Islander female artists, including Maree Clarke. The exhibiton is running until March 25.

See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Sandra Thibodeaux’s The Age of Bones is an ambitious, playfully political Indonesian-Australian coproduction now being hosted by La Mama in Carlton.  For a play that extols (and some might say preaches) the virtues of working together across national and natural borders, it’s very pleasing to see how the production itself has exemplified this cultural harmony at every stage of its development. It also comes to Melbourne as part of the Asia-Pacific Triennial of Performing Arts festival, which, for some of the younger audiences of La Mama, might be delivering them their first taste of surtitled theatre, except for maybe opera.

This will certainly be a very gentle introduction for them. About half of Thibodeaux’s dialogue is performed in Indonesian, while the other half is performed, unsurprisingly, in English. It also makes magnificent use of puppetry and projections as a backdrop to this story of a 15-year-old boy, Ikan (Imam Setia Hagi) who is lost at sea. Lost because that is the last place that his mother, Ibu (Imas Sobariah) and his father, Bapak (Budi Laksana) knew that he was going. Ibu doesn’t know if he is lying dead at the bottom of the ocean, or in the belly of a whale, like Jonah. Fortunately, he’s very much alive, and hasn’t been swallowed by a literal whale, although a “metaphorical whale” is a different story. Like so many Indonesian boys of his age, Ikan went to work on a fishing boat carrying refugees headed for Australia. In his community there is simply no other way to feed his family, although they hardly knew he would be risking incarceration.

Ikan’s story is told as a fantastical, deep-sea satire, with the whale apparently representing an oppressive bureaucratic system, while a host of other underwater characters have much clearer allegorical allusions. Even though a lot of the conflict takes place in the depths in the ocean, the political symbolism is very much on the surface, intentionally and endearingly obvious. It is narrated, in English, by two of its most comedic characters, the Old Man (Deri Efwanto) and his young friend, Dalang the puppeteer (Mohammad Gandi Maulana). Dalang delights in spicing up the story with dramatic Indonesian shadow puppetry (walang), which Maulana is certainly very skilled at. Meanwhile, the Old Man, who does most of the talking, is a very charming anchor to this wild tale, even if some audience members might struggle to understand his accent.

The pair of them watch and commentate as Ikan is picked up by a pair of “divers,” who are about as helpful (or unhelpful rather) as the ones in Finding Nemo. They imprison him at the bottom of the ocean for two long years. He shares a cell with a hammerhead shark (Kadek Hobman) a hilarious Aussie bloke stereotype, who has great comic chemistry with Ikan. A much less effective stereotype is the white saviour, Ikan’s lawyer (Ella Watson-Russell) who succeeds in getting him released, but not without sounding incredibly self-righteous. Given she appears as a white pointer shark, directors Alex Galeazzi and Iswadi Pratama were probably aware of the cliché, but don’t really do anything subversive or entertaining with her.

The Age of Bones’ beautiful sailing ship set design by Dann Barber, dazzling oceanic projections and impressive puppetry are so entrancing that whenever the dialogue and performances are less than spectacular, it’s very easy to get distracted from the actual plot. Fortunately though, this is a genuinely moving story, told in a way that, despite its faults, still pointedly reveals just a few of the many things we need to reconsider about how we do things in Australia.

Written by Christian Tsoutsouvas

See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

The Homosexuals, Or Faggots, is a new stage production at the Malthouse written by local theatre maker Declan Green, of Sisters Grimm, and directed by Griffin Theatre Companies artistic director Lee Lewis.

I’ve been a fan of everything I’ve seen of Declan Greens works, and The Homosexuals, Or Faggots is no exception.

It is a contemporary farce, set in a luxury apartment in Sydney owned by a married gay couple Warren and Kim,  played by Simon Burke and Simon Corfield, Kim and Warren are both white cis gay man, Warren is a journalist and Kim is a university lecturer on gender. The events of the play take place over one night, during mardigra, Warren is setting up to do a photo shoot with a young male model Lucacz, played by Lincoln Younes when Kim unexceptedly arrives home from a conference after being ‘cyber bullied’ by a student Bae Bae played by Mama Alto, Bae Bae, publicly critisized Kim for using the term ‘biological gender’ during one of his lectures. Warrens friend Diana arrives, played by Genevive Lemon, a older trans woman, and is keen to get to a party with Warren. Warren then is informed that he will be interviewing Bae Bae, and it all goes a bit wild from there. Pam, a young woman who Kim and Warren have a past with is also chucked into the mix, who is also played by Mama Alto.

The performers work together beautifully as an ensemble, but Mama Alto, for me, was the stand out performer. Her unique performance style was extremely refreshing to see on a mainstream stage.  If you see this show just for Mama, it would be worth it!

The Homosexuals is pretty full on, and at times I felt like it was too much for me, I actually had ‘nightmares’ that night about myself somehow being homophobic and transphobic and being ostracized by my friends, which is funny because I identify as queer and trans. I wonder what reaction cis, hetrosexual people had to this piece, I’d be interested to know because it really stuck with me. On a subconscious level at least, it evoked feelings of fear of being politically incorrect and hurting people.

I find the show quite difficult to explain and talk about maybe because of its complexity or maybe because I’m scared of saying the wrong thing, or maybe both or another reason completely different, but it was a hell of a journey, which left me feeling exhausted, intellectually stimulated and generally satisfied with what happened, even though I’m not quite sure what happened internally for me, it was a clever story and very engaging. I was definitely invested in what was going to happen.

This is a fast paced, intense, riot of a show, and it on at The Malthouse Theatre in Southbank until March 12th.

Written by Finley Fletcher

See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Smithers reviews actor turned writer Camilla Blunden's solo show All This Living.

Click here to listen to our interview with Camilla.

See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Molly interviews Nella Themelios, one of the curators of High Risk Dressing / Critical Fashion, an exhibition that's on at RMIT Design Hub in Carlton until March 18.

See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Aquarius is a three-part feature film depicting the life and struggles of its central character Clara, an ageing music critic played by Brazilian actress and former Golden Globe nominee Sonia Braga.

The film opens in 1980, where Clara lives with her family in Aquarius, an elegant nineteen forties apartment on the beachfront of Recife, a seaside town on Brazil’s east coast.

During a family celebration, it is revealed Clara is a breast cancer survivor.

Flash forward thirty-six years, Clara is a 65-year-old widow, addressed as Dona Clara, who faces disaster when developers threaten to tear down the old building and replace the Aquarius with a modern luxury condo.  

As the last remaining tenant, Clara is faced with increasingly sizeable offers from the company headed by Diego, a young ambitious business graduate.

Attached to the apartment’s sentiment and memories, Clara refuses to leave despite obvious pressure from her three children, who are keen to bolster their wealthy late father’s inheritance.

So begins an epic battle against the developers to retain her apartment block, where Clara faces a series of harassment, intimidation and abuse from Diego’s company in a bid to force her out.

Director Kleber Mendonca Filho spends much time delving into detail, often with intimate close-ups portraying Clara’s everyday life and the close relationships she develops with her family and long-time housekeeper.

Clara’s deep passion for music and eclectic taste ranging from samba to Queen is often depicted through her dancing alone in the apartment to various vinyl records.

The film’s opening sequence reveals Clara models her life on Aunty Lucia, the adored 70-year-old aunt with a girlish appearance and long hair.

As the film progresses, the women’s passion for life and their legacy appears to be passed on to Julia, the young girlfriend of Clara’s nephew.

Aquarius also highlights the deeply entrenched societal divisions in Brazil through its portrayal of racial tension, class conflict and family.

In a scene where Clara and her housekeeper confront Diego, the young businessman bluntly states it would have been hard for Clara and her family to achieve success due to her dark skin.

Audiences are shown multiple facets to Clara’s character, where her formidable manner and appearance is matched by an equally vulnerable side and pain from her past.

The nightmare scene where a maid-thief recurs in Clara’s dreams is a revenge of sorts, as Clara is shown to have a lifelong habit of deriding servants and speaking as if they were invisible.  

It can be argued Aquarius is a metaphor for Brazil and the country’s contemporary political tensions.

The film’s debut in the Cannes competition last year was accompanied by cast members protesting Brazil is no longer a democracy.

Aquarius ends in a rather abrupt and unexpected manner, but nonetheless paints a superb portrait of a woman who defies the boundaries of age and time.

Written by Caroline Tung

See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

The one person show is an exhilarating performance for both player and audience. For one, the performer is completely alone on the stage and must accept the accompanying pressures and risks. There is nobody to pick up the slack if the performer forgets a line, bumbles a scene, loses energy or has an attack of self doubt. If the audience reacts poorly to a line, or to a scene, or an act, there is nobody else to share the mortification with.   

And yet when the stage belongs to one person, that person claims the full attention of the audience. This is so valuable, as nuances of body language, lines, timing, which might be diffused by many bodies on the stage are made far more powerful. It also means that audience laughter, applause, and anticipatory silence is the sole victory of the performer.

The audience can detect the high stakes, and is intoxicated with the adrenaline and energy on stage. This energy allows the performer  to retain control of their attention and emotion, independently, for an entire performance.

For me, the one woman show Being A Good Person is Bloody Hard Work, does not divert from this highly charged mould of the one person play. Nicole McKenzie, the artist behind the piece, has created a one hour performance which I might compare to the experience of holding onto a rollercoaster without belt or safety bar, while someone is telling you jokes.

McKenzie plays the character of  Nicole, a student, working part time and living in a Fitzroy sharehouse, who is obsessed to the point of mania with the question of what it means to be a good person. Nicole's commentary on contemporary metropolitan and suburban Australian morality cascades with exponentially increasing speed and frenzy through the issues of recycling, vegetarianism, veganism, environmentalism, social media, fair trade goods, socialising, exercise, study, work, family, political correctness, haircuts, wine, wine, brie cheese, and more.

The show is a comedy laced with serious undercurrents, and while Nicole the character is a satirical, hyperbolic study of the manner in which society approaches these topics, in many respects she isn't far off from the reality. Indeed, how long will it be until there isn't a cafe in Fitzroy which isn't Vegan?  

McKenzie's only props are a blue exercise ball, bag of popcorn, bottle and glass of wine and plate of brie cheese, as well as a costume change which I won't reveal. She is accompanied by an economically deployed audioscape of sound effects and dialogue, which I found deepened the atmosphere without being heavy handed.

The brilliance of this performance was the manner in which McKenzie navigated her bag of characters. One woman does not mean one identity on the stage, and McKenzie produced ranks of characters as easily as changing coat onto the mannequin of her body.

The speed and agility of this was like watching an artisan blowing glass. It requires perfect timing, discipline and clarity of movement. One character cannot behave the same as another, because there is nothing but movement and tone of voice to make each person distinct, given there is only one body on stage to use. The scenes between the many, many characters were well written and witty.

Yet for me, the most amusing aspect was watching McKenzie artfully converse with herself as different characters, starting the scene as Nicolle, then  shifting within nanoseconds perfectly and totally into her new identity, and then back again. She has truly mastered this aspect of physical comedy and knows her characters and scenes to the letter.

The play seems to revolve around a repeated scene, of Nicole being interviewed by an unnamed, overly nice bureaucrat of some sort, marking Nicole on the moral goodness of her behaviour. Does she recycle? Does she follow the precise instructions? No...? Hmmm. Marks off. The interviewer, a crowd favourite for her comic timing and unsubtle undermining of Nicole, is one of the most complex characters in the play.

The nagging nature of the interviewer, and her appearance, manifest in Nicole's own body, seems to imply the interviewer is Nicole's super-ego. However, the device of the interview makes this interviewer distinct from Nicole's mind, external in at least some respect. The interviewer is marking Nicole on her goodness, and I couldn't help imagining a jaded, female secretary of St Peter, sent to earth to judge people in preliminary investigations before there final exam at the pearly gates.

In terms of the negatives, there isn't much that could turn one off this performance, unless you are totally against crowd interaction. Then, just don't sit in the front row.  During the performance I attended, McKenzie stumbled only once over a line, from which she recovered automatically and without losing momentum. Frankly, from a relatively young performer, and a show which requires such energy and physical exertion to perform, without break, for an hour, I expected many more mistakes. Indeed, the mistake proved to me that she was not a theatre robot sent from the future to bring chaotic silliness to Melbourne suburbia.

I rate the performance 41% morally good, or, four and a bit out of five. Go see it, it's only got one more night left in this run, at Hares & Hyenas (63 Johnston St, Fitzroy) on Thursday the 23rd at 8pm.

Written by Jim Thomas

See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

The Love Witch is a 2016 release written and directed by Anna Biller. It follows the story of a young beautiful witch Elaine, played by Samantha Robinson, who uses spells and potions to make men fall in love with her and ultimately kill them. The movie itself is shot on 35 mm film and is visually a homage to technicolour 1960s and 70s sexploitation cinema. The use of this film gives the movie a soft visual quality and sort of decentralises it in time - this is emphasised by the 70s costuming but with modern cars and mobile phone technology. 

The film opens on Elaine driving away from San Francisco with her narrating how she had to leave after the overdose and death of her first husband. This scene uses rear projection photography to film her driving from the bonnet of the car - much like in Hitchcock’s The Birds. This allusion to a period thriller and the blood red of her car, outfit and lipstick suggest that there in something sinister afoot. She is then pulled over by a police man - raising the tension of the opening yet again - but he only informs her that her tail light is out thus returning the scene to a state of calm but with a sense of foreboding none the less. This is just the first example of director Biller playing with the audiences expectations to create the suspense that permeates this thriller. 

Elaine has left San Francisco to stay at her friend Barbara’s apartment, who is also a witch, and is met there by Trish the real estate agent and they go out to tea together. Both the apartment and the tea parlour are absolutely beautiful sets. The apartment is painted in bright blues and purples, the walls are covered in paintings of witches in rituals or tarot inspired scenes. The tea house interior is pink - pink walls, chairs, tables - and all of the customers including our protagonist and her friend are costumed in pink and lace. Both of these sets are deeply feminine and visually represent the female world in which men are only visitors or are absent all together. It is here that Elaine tells Trish that she knows what men truely want and is willing to do anything if she can find a man who loves and worships her. She seems obsessed most of all, not with men, but with love - the idea of being in love and being loved. 

She soon meets her first victim - A university literature professor and self confessed womaniser Wayne - she doses him with her love potion and seduces him causing him to fall deeply in love with her. However, the effects of the potion escalate out of control and it seems the concoction was poisonous and he suffers a heart attack and dies. In the scenes in which Wayne has been dosed the cinematography employs kaleidoscopic effects on the lights and on Elaine which aside from being beautiful are also a throwback to the 70s that really add to the charm and the feel of the film.

Wayne is the first of her 3 victims and they only get grislier as she goes along - the finale involving police questioning, horseback riding and a staged wedding at a renaissance fair. 

Samantha Robinson does a fantastic job as Elaine in an acting style that is somewhat out of date and out of favour in modern films. Sure Elaine is villainous, but also in this ultimate battle of the sexes you cannot help but be on her side. She is the perfect performance of femininity and she punishes and destroys those men that privilege her for it. Witch craft in this film is a symbol of feminine power synonymous with sexuality - perhaps as a metaphor for sexual liberation in which women desire sex and to be loved but do not necessarily care about the men themselves. This is a surprisingly enjoyable feminist twist on the sexploitation and camp horror genres and enjoyable by anyone with a sense of cinematic nostalgia. 

The Love Witch is being shown at the Lido Cinemas in Hawthorn from the 16th of February until the 1st of March.

Written by Gill Langford

See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.