The Pitchfork Disney theatre review

Several times, over many years, have I tried to understand what Antonin Artaud was trying to achieve with his "Theatre of Cruelty" and what exactly that phrase might mean.  I think that The Pitchfork Disney just may fit into that category!

Certainly, this play bubbles with a sense of foreboding.  Terror looms.  Tragedy threatens to strike at any moment.  Or if not tragedy, perhaps love.  Perhaps lust, or maybe a conscientious meeting of the minds.  I expected at any moment to be shocked, and the suspense was gripping.  Time and again though, this piece manages to ratchet up the tension and then let it dissipate without fulfillment.  It is masterful in the way it teases and then skirts away from every threat it makes.  In the end, though, I found this suspense too much to bear.  Without any satisfying moments of release, one is faced with the choice to either continue their investment, and continue to hope for the fulfillment of a hastily made promise, or cut one's losses and give up. Well, the many shifts in energy and changes in direction managed to maintain my commitment most of the way through, but towards the end I caved.  I gave up on the piece and wished it to be over.  It kept my attention - the stellar production and capable acting were more than enough to entertain me - but I lost interest in the story because it became clear it would not reach any dramatic high point.  Or a low point.  Or a conclusion.  The story is possibly not even something that should be classed as a story.

So, with such a hollow script to play with it is all the more remarkable that Sophie Roberts and her cast achieve such a delightful night out.  From the moment we set foot in the theatre, we are immersed in the world of the play.  The connections between our leading man and his supporting cast are electric.  Often scintillating, sometimes disturbing.  Always, though, I felt something about what was happening on stage.  I was tickled, impressed, endeared, repulsed, bothered.  So this piece reached me.  Until the point where it didn't, and I can pinpoint when that was.

In the final quarter of the play (which was too long at 105ish minutes), our leading man tells of a nightmare in which his biggest threat in life, and the ultimate cause of his demise, is a character known as The Pitchfork Disney.  He tells this to a character we know as Mr Disney.  We know Mr Disney's work associate to be called Pitchfork.  This would appear to be some remarkable coincidence, yet it is never referred to.  It suggests more sinister elements to the story - but these are not fully developed.  To me, it just reeked of fake symbolism.  It certainly sounds like it should be very meaningful!  To me, though, it just wasn't.  And if it was a subtle reinforcement of one theory I have about the relationship between the characters...then that would be most disappointing.  If the relationship is that which I suspect, then the story is revealed to be far less inspired and original than its style.

What was it really trying to say?  I could probably figure it out, but unfortunately I stopped caring.

See this play if you enjoy clever staging and a well crafted production.  Hopefully you won't mind that the script presents a succession of red herrings.  

This is the End film review

This is the End is nothing like any other Apocalypse movie.  No one is trying to save the world, they're each just out to save themselves.  The lack of heroism may be frustrating for some, but it certainly rings true.  This film is firmly placed in the here and now, painting today's stars as self-absorbed, self-obsessed, and selfish.  They deal with their difficulties (or don't) by using excessive quantities of drugs, playing games, making movies...and when the reality of the situation sinks in they treat it like a reality show, complete with a video confessional and voting members off.  The idea of voting someone off in circumstances that seem certain to spell that individual's death is pretty dark.  And it is this satirical edge that provides the film with many of its best moments.

The bunch of over-privileged douchebags are very entertaining, though.  They quibble and they get distracted and sometimes they accidentally do something useful.  It's hilarious.  It's also not for the faint-hearted.  There are more f-bombs than I've heard in any other recent film.  There's blood, there's gore, there's supernatural activity, and some sexually perverted conversations.  Its R16 rating is well-deserved.

So, while the tone is blokey and coarse there is an underlying intelligence I really appreciated.  The cast is heaving with recognisable names and faces, and the actors all appear as "themselves".  I found it quite clever that each character was a mix of who they are and who they are seen to be by the public.  They take the piss out of themselves as much as they take the piss out of celebrity-mania, and also give us pretty believable characters to follow and enjoy.

So, I enjoyed the film greatly.  I laughed a lot.  I was constantly taken by surprise and frequently grossed out.   Where the film lost me was in its denouement.  It sets itself up for a cheesy, satisfying conclusion and I was happy enough to buy it.  But then it continues.  The [spoiler alert] following interpretation of what heaven could look like was just uncomfortable to watch.  I found it crass and irreligious.  You'd think that could have been expected by now, but actually I felt it contradicted the whole theology laid out all through the film.  It was funny, but it didn't work for me.

Interestingly enough I read online that the heaven sequence was not in the original cut of the film.  It was added in response to test audiences who all wished to see what came next.  Well...I would have preferred the original ending.  Stupid test audiences.

See this film if you would rather laugh about the end of the world than try to prevent it.

Anne Boleyn theatre review

ATC's latest production makes quite a splash with its bold, colourful costumes and use of drums to underscore the drama.  Stephen Lovatt makes quite a splash as the flamboyant, large-living King James I.  That's all the splashing there is, though.  Nothing else manages to meet these elements on quite the same level of high drama and high camp.  While George Henare's Cecil  provides Lovatt with a perfect foil and excuses himself from such excesses with his claims he lacks imagination, I found the lack of imagination in the rest of the cast unexpected and unaccounted for.

To be clear: the cast do a great job of telling the fascinating story of Anne Boleyn's influence over England, its monarch and the predominant religion, and the story reveals fascinating theories of her motives.  But stylistically, I felt that the actors were often not united with the tone set by the pithy script and the outlandish costumes.  Well...were the costumes outlandish?  Yes and no.  Some were.  Some were not.  As with the actors making bold interesting choices: some did and some did not.  

I can't blame the cast, as I know these people can act.  I won't blame the script, because the script is consistent within itself and ekes out the plot points at a perfect pace.  I could blame the costumes for leading my expectations astray - but I feel the flashier costumes were right on the money.  So I will blame the director, Mr Colin McColl.  

McColl failed to get his whole team to perform within the same genre.  Was the end result part of his vision?  Did he want naturalism?  Did he fail to communicate his vision to the cast?  The vision was certainly not communicated to the audience.  Whatever the cause, the result is that Anne Boleyn lacks the finesse it often implies it ought to have.  Certainly, it was well rehearsed.  The show is tight, and it tells the story effectively.  It just lacks a certain spark that is hinted at by Lovatt, Elizabeth Whiting's costumes, and Simon Prast's delightfully dastardly Thomas Cromwell.  I would have preferred a more heightened drama that embraces the anachronistic vernacular and fashion sense.  I feel that would have best served the script, and today's audiences.

What else to say?  The many actors deliver perfectly adequate portrayals of their (even more) many characters.  Their stagecraft is hard to fault, with every action and intention reading clearly, every consonant reaching to the back of the room.  However, from the supporting roles I would have liked a little scenery chewing.  That would have felt right.  From the lead roles, I would have liked to have seen greater emotional connection.  The laughter didn't sound like true laughter.  The (potentially) tender moments did not provoke true tears.  Anne Boleyn failed to make me care about her plight or her feelings, indeed I wasn't sure she had any.  And considering the story is driven by her courtship with Henry VIII, I would have like to have seen some kind of chemistry between them.

It was just dry.  Why the lack of imagination?

See this show for the first chance in years to see some of Auckland's most luminary actors perform perfunctory roles in an interesting story.  See this show if you like colourful costumes.

King Kong theatre review

You have to see it to believe it.  This brand new musical at Melbourne's Regent Theatre is a most spectacular spectacular.  I thought I had seen most of the things that stageshows can achieve - and this introduced me to all sorts of new effects.

As a show and a spectacle, there is nothing like King Kong.  As a musical...it is a little baffling.

Marius de Vries' original music and arrangements of familiar songs are commanding, and often rather catchy. Our lead actress, Esther Hannaford, is given the most opportunity to demonstrate her vocal prowess - and that she does.  She sings with a modern blues/jazz sensibility that is easily accessible and feels true to both the 1930's period and today.  What lets the songs down are the banal lyrics.  When I could make out what they were, I was frequently non-plussed.  What is she singing about?  Why does she feel that way?  How does this relate to what we just saw?  There are a lot of songs, and the only two I am sure I understood are the lullaby sung to soothe King Kong (no metaphors or anything...it's just a lullaby), and the one in which our love interest explains to our heroine that his father built the Golden Gate Bridge out of vanity.

The rest of the music was lovely but hollow.  There is not much more substance to the script.  Really, this show is about an eight metre tall puppet.  

As it happens, though, the giant puppet is a fine actor.  It looks incredible.  It tells the story.  It got all of my sympathy.  The best moments all belong to Kong, and so they should.  The 17 puppet operators seem able to achieve any action, and any emotion - and the movements all look fluid and natural.  It's a marvel of engineering.  Kong's co-stars struggle to keep up.

Kong's greatest rival for attention is the bold and busy lighting.  There are an array of projections that create virtual sets, and alter costumes to make them something altogether new and exciting.  To be honest, I couldn't really figure out what the lights were doing or how.  Whatever it was, though, has me in awe.

Stray observations:

- I have no idea what the opening number was about, but it should have been about the opening of The Empire State Building.

- The prophetess who occasionally appears, sings, and covers a set-change seemed to have wandered in from one of Andrew Lloyd Webber's more gothic musicals.

- I found the song about The Golden Gate Bridge compelling because it was so unusual.  Perhaps it would have meant more if it had been about The Empire State Building.
- Weirdest makeover montage ever.

- I wanted more The Empire State Building.

See this theatrical production if you want a unique experience.  The puppet steals the show, but it is a feat of engineering that is more than a vanity project: it may change the face of theatre.

The Great Gatsby film review

The Great Gatsby is a giddy ride into a fantastic re-imagining of the past.  It's just the most stylish thing ever - but the story lacks heart.

Fans of Baz Luhrman will love the frenzied, colourful and oh-so-slick approach to illustrating the story.  Certainly, he stays true to the style that has brought him such acclaim.  He fills each frame to saturation point, that within the first half hour I felt the film had already achieved more than many films do over their full length.  I saw the film in 3D, and for the first time felt that the effect was used to accomplish something worthwhile.  Certainly, the 3D effects are not important - but they are fun and rather impressive.

So it all starts with a rush and a roar and provides quite the adrenaline rush, then it comes time to progress the story and the pace slows considerably.  It is an unusual story, with an unusual shape and Luhrman is very faithful to the source material.  For this reason, I wondered whether the film's problems were unavoidable.  He fails, though, to make the most of the weightier moments.  One of the greatest strengths of the story is that it is filled with fascinating, endearing characters whose paths cross in unexpected ways.  The film does well at painting these characters.  In particular, I enjoyed the female characters immensely.  Sadly, though, the audience is kept at too far a distance.  Despite many extreme close ups, the viewer is forever watching the action from across the bay.  I was not even sure whose side I should have been on.  This, then, means that the double tragedy the film builds to, means very little.  The character who I felt closest to was our narrator Nick Carraway, played by the evergreen Tobey Maguire.  Unfortunately, Carraway has no character arc.  He doesn't have a story or an ending.  He is no more than a plot device.  This is very true to the book.  Nevertheless, I felt Luhrman has done us a disservice by being so faithful to the book.  

Another strength of the book is the beautiful poetic nature of the writing.  Luhrman is conscious of bringing this to life, and his efforts to do so work well when done visually - the passage of the seasons alone is breathtaking. It is less effective when the poetry is thrust at us with flying words.  It is a literal approach - and literal poetry must be an oxymoron.

Ultimately, The Great Gatsby is beautiful, and it tells the story clearly.  It lacks intimacy to the story.  The friendship between Gatsby and Carraway should break hearts as the story concludes...and it just doesn't.

A special mention must be made of the music.  The majority of the music is fairly recent pop music.  I loved the new recordings of each song, and marveled at how well it all fit together.  

See the beginning of this film if you love colour and dramatic music.  See the rest of this film if you like a cool, detached story.  I enjoyed both parts of the film, but found the transition a little clunky.  Perhaps the transmission needs to be looked at...I know a good mechanic...