Adelaide Festival. Australian Dance Theatre. Odeon Theatre. 11 Mar 2023
Words. So many words. So many words telling a story a century plus of being.
Co-Director/Choreographer Daniel Riley and Co-Director Rachael Maza, with writers Ursula Yovich and Amy Sole overloaded the plate of the creative storytelling challenge. This is not a fault per se. Far from it.
This work allows the subliminal truth of the land as a spirit, in the life story of Riley’s Great- Great-Uncle, Alec ‘Tracker’ Riley, to come through. Word and body in movement.
It is a tremendously difficult thing in performance effect. The effort is worthy. Here is a theme and moment in which words, while seemingly predominant as the vehicle of a work’s expression, need deeper subtext.
This is achieved by a trio of dancers melting in, around and through the performance space as the split role of nephew/Tracker plays out, performed by Ari Maza Long.
James Henry’s beguiling slide guitar based score and Jonathan Jones’ gentle, judiciously applied scrim bush scenes assist the work’s gentle, yet considered effect.
The story is in the fullest sense of the cliché, mind blowing.
History that has to be told.
In this one person, is a history of great gift, humanity and truth obliterated, until now.
David O’Brien
When: 10 to 18 Mar
Where: The Odeon
Bookings: adelaidefestival.com.au
★★★★1/2
Adelaide Fringe. Grace Emily Hotel. 9 Mar 2023
The Ukulele Death Squad is a moving feast; you can never be sure who will turn up on the night and what you’re going to get. On this night, first up were apologies for a missing player from stalwart and anchor Ben Roberts. The crowd, who mostly seemed familiar with the group, shrugged it off and got into it regardless.
UDS are a bit of a supergroup in the uke world; a few of their members now live interstate, so the gigs for the full band are few and far between, mostly at festivals such as this. Last time they played the Fringe it was at the sold out Regal Theatre in 2020, so watching them at the extremely intimate Grace Emily was quite the contrast. At that gig, the nucleus of the band was joined by ‘the gingerbread man aka Matthew Barker, and he’s now become their permanent ‘token ginger’. The new vocal lineup is completed with Alice Barker and Ash Randell, while Roberts, Julian Ferguson and Reuben Ferguson also contribute while maintaining the musical backline on tenor and baritone uke, with Ferguson blowing a very cool sax.
Straight into it with Paris on a Train and the tempo did not let up for the rest of the night. A delightful addition was Barker and Randell picking up the trumpet and trombone respectively, filling out a pretty cool brass section with Ferguson. Not the most proficient at this stage, but this will flesh out beautifully.
For the most part the UDS are on the aural attack, assaulting the senses with a fairly unrelenting barrage of up tempo songs. The slower Let’s Go to the Movies and Wayfaring allow for a catch of breath and a real exhibition of the stunning vocal lineup and we’re back into the musical melee again, with an energy reminiscent of the days of Roaring Jack.
Special mention of the song that lends itself to the title of the show. This R&B infused song is filled with addictive hooks, and had the audience grooving along (had to use that word). While the line “Daddy’s got a new body” forms part of the refrain – its title is Baby Don’t (F*** With Me) and it’s an absolute ripper. Listen to it on YouTube, recorded live at Penny’s Lane Winery.
UDS ended as they began, fast, high energy and above all, entertaining, leaving the audience almost as exhausted as the band.
This is skilled, inventive, creative and entertaining playing, and there are guitarists who would crawl over broken glass to play like this. One tires of saying that the uke is not what you think it is, but here it is again. It can be (thanks Scott) but actually, it doesn’t need to be, and in the hands of these guys, it just isn’t. Got it?
Arna Eyers-White
When: Closed
Where: Grace Emily Hotel
Bookings: Closed
Adelaide Festival. Remote Theater Project. Space Theatre. 10 Mar 2023
Grey Rock is presented by US based Remote Theater Project (RTP), whose mission statement includes “… [It] develops the work of artists whose voices are not often heard in the US including international artists as well as US-based artists from other countries. We challenge artists to engage in difficult questions about their perceptions of other groups.” This statement is significant, and it underscores aspects of the context of Grey Rock. The play tells the story of Yusef who thinks that Palestine should also strive to have a presence in space – specifically, travel to the moon. He understands that Palestinians are a proud but downtrodden population, but believes they should also aspire to do great things in addition to solving their immediate and obvious problems. Understandably, Yusef meets with resistance, and his motives are misinterpreted. This resonates in contemporary Australia as well, where some opponents of The Voice think that it should be abandoned in favour of investing all effort and resources into ‘closing the gap’ between indigenous and non -indigenous populations. Many believe that both can be done, as does Yusef.
RTP commissioned Amir Nizar Zuabi, a leading theater director and playwright in the Middle East, to write and produce Grey Rock, and it received its stage debut in New York in 2019 with further productions internationally, including at the malthouse Theatre in Melbourne also in 2019.
With a plot as bizarre and unbelievable as someone wanting to build a moon rocket in their backyard, and using the minaret at their local mosque as the launch tower, it is almost redundant to say Grey Rock is a gentle comedy of sorts, but with quite dramatic moments as well. It starts as a drama, with no hint that it’s going to have any real laughs in it. We are introduced to the various characters and observe that they are dealing with diverse problems of their own: Yusef (played by Khalifa Natour), the main protagonist, is a retired TV repair man who is secretly designing the moon shot rocket, and all the time he mourns his wife who died three years before; Lila (Fidaa Zaidan), his daughter, is engaged to a Jawad (Alaa Shehada) who clearly adores her but wants to own and mould her into his own vision of the ‘perfect family’; Fadel (Luca Kamleh Chapman), a young man who is besotted with Lila, and becomes an assistant to Yusef, but mainly because that will get him closer to Lila; and the local Sheik (Motaz Malhees) who is initially alarmed by Yusef’s plans, but eventually becomes supportive because he learns to share Yusef’s big picture vision.
Natour plays Yusef superbly. Everything he does is understated and much pathos and humour emerges. Zaidan plays Lila with confidence and dignity, even when she is being derided by her fiancé. Shehada believably creates the illusion of being controlling and bullying. Chapman is earnest and youthful, and totally endearing as he goes to mush in the presence of Lila. Malhees plays the Sheik with the right blend of authority, rationality, and then counters all of that with comical unchecked enthusiasm for Yusef’s project.
Before there is any reference to the fact that the rocket’s purpose is to take Yusef to the moon, the audience has every reason to believe he may in fact be building a weapon to use against Israel. When his purpose becomes clear, the mood of the play lightens and becomes quite humorous in parts, especially in the scenes where Yusef is watching and commenting on Lila and Fadel ‘circling’ each other but not declaring their true feelings.
The stage has a full-width slatted sheer white curtain across it creating upstage and downstage acting areas. The curtain is quickly drawn upwards in sections when needed to reveal Yusef’s work area which has dozens of large blueprints of the rocket on display. There is an overhead projector on his work bench that is used on occasion to project large images across the stage on to the undrawn white curtain. The effect is stark and visually quite arresting. There are no other stage properties or set dressings, and the entire effect is one of minimalism which is supported by an evocative sparse music underscore and empathetic but simple lighting.
The play is spoken in English, but occasionally the language gets in the way of fluid performances from the actors, and there were also a few errors (such as in a technical explanation of Newton’s Law of Gravitation). Some commentators have suggested that the play might have been better performed in the original Arabic with English surtitles, but this reviewer doesn’t share that opinion, only wish that the cast spoke more clearly and loudly. The acoustic of the Space Theatre are not kind to dialogue that is hushed or not clearly articulated.
The audience clearly loved the performance, and the humour gave them welcome pause from the text’s not-so-hidden messages. This is a good play, but not a great one.
Kym Clayton
When: 10 to 12 Mar
Where: Space Theatre
Bookings: adelaidefestival.com.au
Adelaide Festival. Adelaide Festival Theatre. 11 Mar 2023
Numerous composers have written Requiem Masses, the Roman Catholic funeral mass, such as Mozart, Cherubini, Saint-Saëns, and Berlioz, but none are quite like the one from Verdi’s pen. It was first performed in Milan in 1874 and was written in memory of Alessandro Manzoni, a national poet of Italy, whom Verdi admired very much. Some notable musicians at the time panned it suggesting it was too operatic and not sufficiently reverent and solemn. A case in point is the Dies Irae (‘Day of Wrath’) that is so astonishingly vibrant it would easily be at home in a Stravinsky ballet.
With almost all of his substantial oeuvre already composed, Verdi is at the height of his powers when the Requiem Mass has its première, and his signature use of transcendent melodic phrases, spirited and varied rhythms, and contrasting textures comes to the fore throughout the score. It is thought that Verdi was as much concerned with the humanity associated with end of life as he was about the religious aspects, if not more so. This is significant because the music doesn’t respond so much to the text as it does to human emotion. More on this later.
Messa da Requiem is enormous in scale. Presented by Ballett Zürich, one of Europe’s most esteemed ballet companies, the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra and the Adelaide Festival Chorus, Messa da Requiem involves more than 200 artists: 170 Adelaide singers and musicians and 36 dancers. The Festival Theatre stage is fully exposed, and it is filled to almost overflowing. It is an awe inspiring sight to behold, and the memory of it will persist in the minds of the capacity audience for years to come. The power of the production is almost immeasurable, and, arguably, its impact will speedily eclipse that of previous Adelaide Festival headline events.
Messa da Requiem faithfully presents Verdi’s musical and choral score, and dancers perform a sequence of sixteen balletic tableaus which, according to award winning choreographer and producer Christian Spuck, and in sympathy with Verdi’s own thinking, are more an interpretation of and response to the music than to the religious text. This reviewer freely confesses to not being a dance aficionado, and was smitten by the precision, athleticism and pure emotive power of the dancers. The figures they sculpted on stage with their bodies as both individuals and groups were evocative, sensuous (yes, even within the context of marking the occasion of death!) and achingly beautiful. In this endeavour they were assisted by the chorus who formed an immense corps de ballet, and worked with the dancers to sculp visions of biblical inundations, giant reptiles that might have been conjured up from a Bosch painting, and teeming multitudes of tormented souls at the day of the Final Judgement. One’s mind could conjure almost any interpretation, but that is probably the point: constructing an indelible and highly personal response to Verdi’s daring and bravura music, which in turn is meditating on the mysteries of end of life.
The Adelaide Symphony Orchestra is at the top of its game under conductor Johannes Fritzsch, who is the Principal Conductor of the Queensland Symphony Orchestra. The woodwinds and brass are especially fine. Christie Anderson, who is the Artistic Director of the Adelaide Chamber Singers, produced superb results from the choir. One could hear individual words of the latin mass as if it was being sung by a single singer rather than by a massed choir. Christian Schmidt’s stage design is minimalistic but gothic in its conception. The use of immense and cavernous space underlines the insignificance of man. Emma Ryott’s simple costumes use a restricted colour palette and concentrate on blacks and dark hues. The effect is solemn, and the use of flowing black tulle dresses in one scene was striking. Martin Gebhardt’s lighting was positively sympathetic to the dance and to the general temperament of the piece, and the use of a mobile lighting unit that was moved around across the floor by dancers was extraordinarily effective as it cast menacing shadows of dancers on the undressed walls of the set.
And to the soloists, who are all Australian artists with international recognition and careers. Soprano Eleanor Lyons was exceptional, and her Libera Me with the chorus was sublime. Paul O’Neil has a generously warm tenor voice, and his performance of Ingemisco was heartfelt. Bass baritone Pelham Andrews was exceptional in the middle of his range, and he sang both Tuba Mirum and Confutatis with humble reverence. Mezzo Soprano Caitlin Hulcup sang sublime duets with Lyons, and was particularly impressive in the Agnus Dei and the Recordare.
But even though there were excellent singers on stage and an impressive orchestra in the pit performing the magnificent music of Verdi, with skilled dancers on stage at the pinnacle of their craft, the greatest accolade must go to Christian Spuck, whose choreographic and collaborative genius has produced a truly memorable, important and enduring work of art.
Bravo, brava, bravi!
Kym Clayton
When: 11 Mar
Where: Festival Theatre
Bookings: Closed
★★★★
Adelaide Fringe. The Latebloomers. Ukiyo at Gluttony. 10 Mar 2023
When you think of Scotland, it’s almost certain you think of icons such as tartan and kilts, stirring folk songs (such as Auld Lang Syne, The Bonnie Banks o’ Loch Lomond, and The Skye Boaty Song), highland dancing, single malt whisky, shortbread, deer hunting, the rugged highlands, the ‘shitty’ weather, and of course salmon fishing.
If you are actually a Scot, there’s bound to be many other images and issues that wash through your psyche, such as your ‘dislike’ for the English (which goes way back to the wars of Scottish Independence in the 13th and 14th Centuries, and more recently to the so-called Highland Clearances of the 19th Century), through to the desire for independence from Great Britain, and Brexit.
This show – Scotland! – covers most of the abovementioned territory in fifty-minutes of oh-so-funny madcap tomfoolery performed by three skilled artists. They are The Latebloomers, and not one of them is Scottish, but you wouldn’t know it. They hail from the UK, Sweden and Australia and they first met at the Jacques Lecoq International Theatre School in Paris. They are exponents of physical theatre, clowning, and mime, and they are extremely good at it.
From the time you enter the venue, they can be seen lurking in the shadows pulling funny faces and gawking at the audience, almost baiting us to respond, which we do of course, by laughing, because they are immediately funny. The scene is set and on they come, a human tsunami of three, but with the energy and passion of three score and more!
They are dressed in tartan and one quite quickly answers the question: What does a Scotsman wear under his kilt? No spoilers here! And from this point on the pace is frantic and the smiles on our faces get wider and wider. Occasionally our smiles shift into worried looks as the trio look for ‘volunteers’ from the audience but that almost shifts to ‘pick me, pick me’!
A highlight of the show is their mimicry, and particularly the sounds they make (amplified through personal PA systems). They mime fly fishing, playing bagpipes (using stools as props!), birds of prey swooping down from the crags of Ben Whatever high above, fighting the English at Culloden, and the list goes on! It’s exhausting, and the volunteers from the audience are a hoot as well!
The person who sat alongside of me casually remarked just as the show was about to start that she had no idea what the show was about or what she was in for, and hoped that it would be OK: “ I have an hour to kill, so I’ve taken a chance”. She left thrilled, and laughing, as did I. This is true Fringe.
Kym Clayton
When: 10 to 19 Mar
Where: Ukiyo at Gluttony
Bookings: adelaidefringe.com.au