Art Smitten

Hosts, Thierry and Adalya, speak to actor Peter Houghton about Eddie Perfect's new play, The Beast. It's running until September 10th at the Comedy Theatre, 240 Exhibition St, Melbourne. Tickets are available here.

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Dangerous Liaisons by Little Ones theatre is a theatrical adaption of Pierre Chodelos De Laclos novel. The story takes place in France in the 1700s, It’s a long winding story of revenge and seduction. Two ex lovers have plans for revenge and humiliation; they try to out do each other in an attempt to dominate one another.  Little Ones theatre originally staged this in 2014 at MTCs Neon festival, since then it has toured across Australia to Darwin and Brisbane and has won and been nominated for multiple awards, and is now being restage at Theatre Works in St Kilda.

The set design and costume design was stunning and striking. It was a beautiful pallet of gold’s and pinks. There were shimmering golden curtains draped from the ceiling surrounding the space, with a sparkly golden floor with golden elaborate period couches. All the other props were consitant witht this colour sceme, all coloured gold, they appeared to be spray painted. The costumes were all period and lovely shades of pink.

The script was very dense and wordy, which the actors and director were up for the challenge. The direction was superb, it was intricate and precise. The actors held together and delivered the script in a phenomenal way, you could tell how well they knew their character and what their intentions were. 

This play spoke about complex issues around gender, manipulation and seduction though the lens of Little Ones camp, raunchy, theatrical style. It was extremely entertaining and fun to watch and be apart of.

Although it was beautifully designed and performed I did take deep issue with part of the story. There is a part in the play, towards the end, were one of the male characters quite blatantly sexually assaults a woman, who to my understanding is quite young. It is played as comedy and is brushed off quite quickly, which I found very uncomfortable and it a later scene it was suggested that it was consensual, which I just didn’t believe, it seemed to be like coercion, which was deeply upsetting. I’m unsure if little ones was trying to make a statement about sexual assault in some way with this scene, but it did not translate to me at all, if you’re going to take a path of making a stamen about sexual assault through satire, which is a rocky path to begin with, it must be overt, and obvious that you are no condoning the actions of person who committed sexual assault.  I don’t have an answer to what Little Ones were trying to say with this scene, but I must say that it did offend me, and I would like to know the answer.

Dangerous Liaisons by Little Ones theatre is showing at Theatre Works until August 20th.

Written by Ebony Beaton. Voiced by Adalya Hussein. 

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My Scientology Movie sees BBC presenter, Louis Theroux, attempt to infiltrate the Church of Scientology, an organisation infamous for being shrouded in secrecy. Curiosity about the mysterious inner workings of the church, along with reports of assault committed by leader, David Miscavige, motivate Theroux’s efforts to understand life inside the Church and why it is so confidential. 

Since first approaching the Church in 2002, Theroux’s pursuit to gain access to the Church and interview Miscavige had been denied. Classified under the spiritual state of Operating Thetan (OT) and one of the highest levels within the hierarchy, members of the “Sea Org” also declined to be involved. Without admittance to the Church or interviews with practising Scientologists, one would assume any plans for the documentary would be abandoned. Instead, Theroux sets out to re-enact incidences involving Miscavige, the Sea Org and high profile member, Tom Cruise by holding a casting call in Hollywood, where the Church’s Los Angeles headquarters resides. Theroux is aided by Mark “Marty” Rathbun, an ex-Scientologist who was previously Miscavige’s second-in-command. The casting call sparks bitter backlash from the Scientologist community, resulting in Theroux and his team being stalked and threatened throughout the film.

Casting actors to re-create Marty’s recollections of being a Scientologist works well to gradually introduce the audience to Scientology and awaken Marty’s memories. Most importantly, this approach compels Scientologists to engage with the documentary. Theroux appeals to the quality all scientologists, whether practising or excommunicated, seem to share in the film; an overbearing sense of pride. This could be attributed to the “auditing sessions” all members must undergo, which involve practicing intimidation techniques and dominating your opponent’s mind. Marty helps Theroux conduct a mock auditing session with the cast members to help them understand the harsh treatment within the Church and what motivates their characters. These techniques aim to instil doubt and distrust in the follower, hardening their mind but also weakening their empathy. Marty, despite having left the Church seven years ago, displays a similar type of pride when speaking about his previous role within Scientology, boasting that the “Church was absolutely at [his] beck and call”. Marty is a conflicted character, both reminiscing about former glory and bitter towards his past aggressors.

The main criticism against Theroux documentaries is the presenter tends to insert himself into the narrative, steering away from traditional methods of strict observation. Fans of Theroux will relish the moment he catches his interviewees off-guard with his quips and quirky interviewing style, a trademark of his documentaries. Those intrigued by both the subject and the way the presenter engages with the subject will find this film captivating. However, I can appreciate that those who prefer the traditional style would not welcome his techniques, which often blur the line between conventional documentary and reality tv. This is where the genius lies, though, for the cast of actors play two roles in this film; the fabricated re-enactment of Marty’s memories and their real experiences with Scientologists as they’re hounded during filming.

The switches between official BBC camera footage and mobile recordings suggests the documentary is largely unfiltered, and reinforces the idea of the film’s authenticity. This balances the growing suspicion you may feel when listening to Marty’s stories, a position I found myself in especially when he omits piece of information or becomes agitated without warning. I would highly recommend going to see this film, whether you’re a Theroux fan or not. It sees the talents of director, John Dower, and producer, Simon Chinn, come together and make a thought-provoking and entertaining film.

Written by Erin Connellan

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Hosts Christian and Rachel interview Fairy Turner, the artist behind Disco Bin in the Glow Winter Arts Festival. 

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Hosts, Christian and Rachel, are joined in the studio by Brian Lipson, actor in Two Jews Walk into a Theatre, alongside Gideon Obarzanek. 

Directed by Lucy Guerin, this improvised art installation of the two men impersonating their fathers will be running until the 28th August at the North Melbourne Town Hall, 521 Queensberry Street. Tickets available here. 

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Hosts, Christian and Rachel, are joined in the studio by Brian Lipson, actor in Two Jews Walk into a Theatre, alongside Gideon Obarzanek. 

Directed by Lucy Guerin, this improvised art installation of the two men impersonating their fathers will be running until the 28th August at the North Melbourne Town Hall, 521 Queensberry Street. Tickets available here. 

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Hosts, Christian and Rachel, are joined by director of Theatre Works' production of The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui, Phil Rouse. 

Tickets are available at the Theatre Works website. 

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Hosts, Christian and Rachel, interview Tim Chiang, one of twelve finalists for the 2016 Australian National Piano Award. Running from the 5th-10th September, the recitals will be held at the Eastbank Centre in Shepparton. Tickets are available and you can find out more at the website. 

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La Mama’s P.O.V. Dave is essentially a film noir play about a retiring press photographer who gets more than he bargained for with his last assignment. It definitely shows that most of playwright/producer Noel Maloney’s background is in screenwriting as he takes on the kind of story and genre that is much more acquainted with the screen than with the stage.

Dave’s profession as a merchant of dirty secrets working for his heartless editor, Bronwyn, has finally driven away his beloved wife, Susan (both played brilliantly by Eleanor Howlett) and, now that one of his assignments has driven a young girl to suicide, this job could also destroy his relationship with his son, Jack (the talented young Jude Katsianis) if he should ever find out. He plans to get out after getting one last fat paycheque that will set him up until he finds a more respectable job. He just has to get a few compromising shots of a sleazy priest named Kevin (Gabriel Partingon), although it turns that he and his saccharine wife Kathryn (Annie Lumsden) have been playing this game for some time and have long known how to win.

All of this is depicted in a long series of flashbacks that Dave is experiencing in his dying moments on a train. As such, much of the story is told through narration delivered by Dave, who is both our dying man looking back on how he ended up here and our jaded film noir detective whose gloomy inner psyche the piece is delving into. This is what Maloney turns to whenever he wants to write in a Hitchcockian scene that doesn’t translate so well to the stage. Strangely though, it’s also where he puts many moments that probably would have worked more powerfully if they were played out in full. Even though occasionally it offers a special insight into Dave’s thoughts, it’s still a rather clunky storytelling device, as is the overused framing of the wretched man’s life flashing before his eyes as he faces an untimely death.

What makes it work much better than it probably should is the inspired performance of Keith Brockett as Dave. Brockett is certainly not the typical film noir anti-hero, and as far as dying wretched men go, he is certainly one of the more interesting and entertaining ones. Brockett has such a powerful stage presence and has so finely perfected his characterisations of short, bumbling, amusing yet complex characters that Dave’s overindulgent amounts of dialogue are still a joy and a fascination to listen to. The same goes for the rest of the cast, who populate this familiar narrative landscape with characters that feel wonderfully fresh and exciting. Dave’s family, including his fading father (Peter Stratford) are the true emotional backbone and moral centre of the story. They definitely feel like a family worth fighting for, and their characterisations are much fuller than those of most of their cinematic counterparts. The seedy editor, Bronwyn, whose scenes are all angry phone conversations with Dave, is the kind of boss character you would only hear and never see if this was a film. However, director Beng Oh more than makes do with having Howlett perform her lines with her back to the audience and a cigarette in her hand. Partington and Lumsden, as the creepy priest and his manipulative wife, are two very striking villains and the perfect foil to the naïve Dave and Susan.

The final theatrical touch that enlivens the story and compensates for the clichés is Christina Logan-Bell’s staging and Tom Backhaus’ sound design. Just like the lead performances, the bookending scenes on the train that show Dave’s gruesome death manage are dramatized as an incredibly immersive fusion of the realism of the cinema and the hyperrealism of the theatre, which is what Maloney seems to have been aiming for in his writing.

Written by Christian Tsoutsouvas

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There is of course an old adage that comedy equals tragedy, plus time. In the case of Cholai, Arun Roy's black comedy about the Bengali hooch fatalities in 2011, not much time apparently is needed for us to be laughing about the thousands of deaths caused by a bad batch of illegal home liquor. Cholai is the local common name for this strongly addictive, very cheap and very lucrative brew. The Bengali government and law enforcement have been known to turn a blind eye to its distribution, until, as it is told in the film at least, the wife of a manufacturer accidentally tampers with the mixture. She only finds out that the results were toxic after it has sold and consumed across the entire village, killing nearly 200 of its most valued middle-aged male drunks.

Roy is supremely cynical in his depiction of this tragedy. The death scenes themselves are presented in a cold yet absurd fashion, one that suggests that the men had it coming, that they deserve their punishment for poisoning their minds and body with illicit substances. Their deaths are dealt with very quickly, as Roy is itching to get to the crux of the story: the fallout. The government is of course pressured for a simple explanation and a quick response. They are lightning-quick to offer compensation for the victims’ families, which they hope will also stop all of the questions.

The media, of course, spreads this information as far as it possibly can, along with every juicy, gruesome detail about the crisis that they can get their hands on. Where facts are sparse, they clutch at straws to get something that sounds newsworthy.

The movies usually portrays television news in one of two ways: docudrama realism or fanciful parody. Cholai definitely does the latter. It judges the media as cruelly as it lambasts the government, but not without a sense of fun.

Much of the film is very episodic and emotionally detached from its own story. After the effects of the chemical blunder have fanned out far beyond the small village where this all started, every second scene seems to be a self-contained vignette that tears a particular aspect of Bengali society. It would have probably been too messy to squash all of Roy’s criticisms into the main story, so this colourful collection of hit-and-miss subplots feels like the best way to get in some extra jabs at the region’s welfare system, health care, economy and even a confusingly patriarchal women’s protest movement. For good measure, Roy also throws in some scenes on a bus route frequented by a handful of amateur social commentators, who all seem to be the director’s mouthpieces as they express their profound disillusionment with the present state of the region.

There are a few political subplots in particular that leave a strong impression, in terms of both message and story: those that show the families attempting to exploit the bureaucracy around compensation for their own personal gain, and those that reveal the media’s penchant for milking sympathy for a reformed sinner.

However, quite a few of Roy’s statements do get lost in all of the chaos. Without the usual cinematic oxygen of emotional investment, some of the longer vignettes are very quick to run out of fuel. Fortunately, there is a consistent thread in the actions and reactions of the cholai manufacturer, Natah, and his wife, Bishu, who started this entire mess. Funnily enough, the two perpetrators are the characters that come out relatively unscathed by Roy’s fierce social satire. He seems to respect their intelligence more than those of the other characters (which still isn’t saying very much though). As mere inhabitants of this farcically defective society, these two are not painted as shameless opportunists, but more as perceptive people with enough common sense to know that they should take something if it is practically being handed to them by people who can well afford to have it taken from them. Unlike Natah’s honest, hardworking brother, whose decency has never been interesting enough to win him fame and fortune, Natah and Bishu are quick to spot and seize the unscrupulous shortcut to success that is staring them in the face.

Cholai has a lot of fun delivering uncomfortable truths such as these. By not asking its audience to really care about the characters it puts forward, it has nothing to lose by being as exaggerated and ridiculous as it wants to be, except perhaps the consistent interest of its audience.

Written by Christian Tsoutsouvas

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