As the usual Sydney crowd shuffles like well-dressed cattle into The Studio of the opera house, we pass a sign which warns of adult themes, coarse language and nudity. Which is more of a confirmation of what we may suspect seeing as their marketing materials have the New York Times quoted as saying they are “Irreverent, sacrilegious, foulmouthed and uninhibited.” The prim Opera House ushers are joined by two slightly sparkly “school girls” offering communion wafers to patrons as they enter. While the punters find their seats at tables or in the “safer” upper seating areas, the sisters and their assistants mingle with the guest, welcoming us in a sly Southern drawl. We were accosted momentarily, and after a quick chat where I welcomed her to Sydney, she left me with a passing suggestion for us to loosen up a little and have a nice time.

Before long – the mayhem begins with a Catholic schoolgirl strip tease and some very impressive handstands. Read more

The Sydney Opera House is more than a place for elderly classical music enthusiasts to snooze through concertos. In what appears to be a season of circus spectacular, the white sails are housing some of the most impressive productions touring the world. So much so, you will be forgiven if you mistake these shows as a part of the Sydney Festival.

Soap is billed as “Dazzling, daring and dangerous, eight acrobats will perform in, on and around a series of bathtubs in the Australian premiere of the late-night variety show.” And it absolutely delivers on it’s promises – I would love to meet the person who does not find their jaw-dropped, gut wrenched and heart stopped for the duration of this production. Read more

The Seymour Centre is abuzz with the Sydney Festival – all three venues are handling multiple shows of multiple genres and multiple bump in/outs. It’s exciting. In this wonderful carousel of acts is a show by American comic Mike Birbiglia.

Definitely a poster boy for arguments of why marriage is stupid, why bureaucracies should be punished for being absolutely stupid, and how ugly and gross making out is “It’s like watching a dog eat spaghetti.” But I am not one to bust open all the best gags in an evening of comedy (I can’t stand it when reviewers/critics hack open a production and scoop out all the jokes and spontaneous surprises, leaving us with the deflated skin of a show – I think it is selfish!) So I wrote this review trying to give a flavour of the show – without exposing the best parts. This is a fun show – part stand up, part storytelling -simple effective, clear story from a guy who is pretty relatable to.

I highly recommend this show – especially if you are over 28 and find relationships messy, dating embarrassing and awkward, have a love of analogy and believe in love. And really, at $30 you won’t find a better deal at the Sydney Festival (except if you want to get up at 4am and stand in line at Tix for Nix in Martin Place). Read more

There is something magical about the Speigeltent – could it be the sound of words escaping through curled moustaches? The bowler-hatted ushers? The pillars made of mirrors? The “Something Wicked this Way Comes” style circus tent promises more than fairy floss and family entertainment… I have witnessed performances by La Clique (aerial bathtub circus-y feats of human strength and beauty), Tripod, Iota in his acclaimed cabaret Smoke and Mirrors (back this year for a return season at this year’s Sydney Festival)… so it stands to reason that Eddie Perfect’s new show Misanthropology is included in this venue.

Known to some as the duel embodiment of Downer/Hewson from Neil Armfield’s production of Keating! The Musical, Eddie Perfect is also the creator and performer of Warne The Musical and recent TV series “Offspring.” With a blond spiky quiff, a swag of experience Eddie is the consumate Melbournite cabaret performer with a scallywag persona and a penchant for “segway kicks” and singing about whatever a 30-year-old man wants to – titties and penises. For those who only know his TV persona they may find this incantation of Eddie Perfect alarmingly offensive – perhaps that’s what inspired some of the walk out’s last night? Directed by Craig Illot (also the director of Smoke and Mirrors) this is a punchy, chunky, bold and unapologetic cabaret designed to offend and expose the foibles of modern well-to-do society. Read more

My first visit to the Opera House for 2011 was for Madama Butterfly – one of the most popular Operas to have been staged in the early 1900s – and has one of the most recognised operatic tunes to be featured in contemporary culture – usually in the form of a television commercial advertising an expensive European car or perhaps an elegant brand of mineral water. This is the first time I have seen a production of Butterfly, thanks to my fairy godfather and colleague in arms Mr James Waites. Until now, my only exposure to this work was the Sunday afternoon sounds in my parents house by the sea, Madama Butterfly selected by my father. Listening as the notes climb and lilt and fiercely float into the air, watching my father surrender to the sheer exquisite beauty of the music. Read more

At the end of each year, the Sydney Theatre Critics Circle announce their award nominations for the year. I am not in the Sydney Theatre Critics Circle, but I think it is valuable to look back in order to look forward.

I don’t offer awards – or “winners.” I find it nearly impossible to claim that something is “the best.” How can one assert who is better – Whitely or Turner or Van Gough or Monet or Koons or Kippenberger? How can one possibly rank Ravel, Puccini, Liszt, Bach, Satie? I can’t, I would be lying and so I simply refuse.

For those keen to find out what was included in the STA nominations you can check them out here: http://www.sydneytheatreawards.com/2010.php
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Like the Faraway Tree, the SBW Stables Theatre’s same wooden stairs lead to an utterly different world. On this occasion the diamond space is hemmed by exposed fluro lights, a white floor mirror-lined, a set of primary-school bubblers, a white pole upstage left… A large wooden crate… huddled figures in opaque raincoats mutter and focus.

This is the jungle. They are soldiers. Waiting. Read more

It was late last night/early this morning when I posted my response to my first Sydney Festival review for 2011.

With some shows, it is hard how to respond without the inevitable lens of my experience colouring everything I see. This is where theatre lives in me. The resonance of things around me – people I love and have loved, conversations I have had bouncing and resounding in me -an echo, reminding me, or highlighting certain truths. This performance brought out the memories of my uncle Greg.

Greg was in some ways a mythic man: tall, elegantly dressed in a dark suit in his sister’s wedding photo. My father in a cream Safari suit -in many ways his opposite. I was a teenager when I first met Greg. He had been the absent uncle who lived in Sydney, far from my country hometown. An artist, a collector of taxidermic animals, a man who’s house was heavy with kitsch (my favourite as a girl being the teapot shaped like Miss Piggy) and a drag queen who offered me his little bo-beep outfit when I was on the verge of being introduced as a Masonic Debutante…

He drank fluffy ducks, plucked his eyebrows, owned a black, irritating and nervous pomeranian called “Tuxedo” and when he returned from Sydney, he persistently survived the cruelty and the bashings a country town offers the unusual and the interesting. The last time I saw him, I was 17 and moving to Sydney. He was lying on his couch, sallow faced.. waving with a limp hand at the suitcase of “life starting things” he’d packed in a suitcase for me to take. A dustpan and broom, a can opener, a green velvet rug, a crochet blanket he’d made himself. As I said my goodbyes that day, and grabbed the yellow leather handle of the case he said “Gussie, the gay community in Sydney is wonderful – if you are ever in trouble, you’ll always find someone to help you. They always helped me.” Greg died of an AIDS related illness that year.

Everyone has someone in their like that they can to look to as an example of pure, unashamed individuality. For me I have always sought out those who, in the face of it all – expectation, normality, the beige-ness of a predictable career path – have been determined to live a life truest to how they feel and who they are. And at times, the bravest of these people have often been members of the gay community. Read more

As offices empty and sunscreen sales soar – the festive summer season has arrived with a seemingly endless carousel of parties and social engagements. Now the theatre’s have closed – there are a few of the industry who have a list of 2011 projects lined up… and the rest of us face family Christmas lunch/dinner gently quizzed by family “so how is your drama stuff going?” and “have you thought about an apprenticeship?” and other such brutal questions asked by well-meaning members of your gene pool.

Normal folk – the ones with contented lives filled with relaxing weekends, 9-5 work hours, paid holidays, a structured career path and regular pay cheques – look forward to the end of the year as a time of snooze and booze and lavish materialistic rewards for their year of hard work. For theatre folk it’s a little different. Read more

Every now and then, I get a text message which changes my evening… “I have a spare ticket to STC’s True West Tonight, would you like to snaffle it up?” As a self-professed compulsive snaffler – I went, it’s always a beautiful experience to head out to the Wharf… lights off the water – and a mellow feeling of all being right with the world… I guess it’s the excellent company I keep, because often it isn’t the play’s message which is telling me that all is right with the world. And this is certainly true of True West. Read more