I can’t help but raise one eyebrow when looking at the Belvoir website.
Under the headline of “Hamlet” is the usual credits:

“By William Shakespeare Director Simon Stone. 12 October – 1 December. Upstairs Theatre”

And then a quote:

“The play’s the thing… “

Indeed it is the thing. Read more

It’s one of those confessions I need to make, that despite living down and around the road from The Newsagency in Marrickville, I had only heard, not seen of the venue that seems to be carving out a place for itself as a space for live performance. Sporting an obedient row of tiny green chairs and stools, and an impressive flock of LED lights The Newsagency is one of the Inner West’s one room wonders. Read more

“In an English village, you turn over a stone and have no idea what will crawl out. The villagers of Chipping Cleghorn, including Miss Marple, are agog with curiosity over an advertisement in the local gazette which reads: ‘A murder is announced and will take place on Friday October 13th, at Little Paddocks at 6.30p.m.’ A childish practical joke or a hoax? Unable to resist the mysterious invitation, a crowd begins to gather at Little Paddocks at the appointed time when, without warning, the lights go out, a gun is fired and a body falls.”

As a teenager Friday nights were often spent with my father and an Agatha Christie or a PD James or a Ruth Rendell tele-movie. I’d watching a small village handle the threat of murder, or the realisation that not all were sweet and kindly church-goers, gardeners or local librarians – some people in the village were hiding nasty and difficult secrets. Coming from a small town myself I often wondered if my neighbours were equally likely to poison each other’s tea – and such is the tradition of the British murder mystery genre. A wise outsider – sometimes a Frenchman and sometimes an old maid – would outwit the police in understanding the situation faster and in more detail than the slow and sloppy law preservers. Read more

A Streetcar Named Desire… a portrait of American working class life? A momentary glimpse of a life off the rails? An exploration of feminine and masculine role play? A poetic examination of power?

A classic play pumped up full of theatrical mythology – poking its head through the curtain of time and whispering in our post modern ears that it’s always “depended on the kindness of strangers” or screams out in hard and primal desperation “Stella!” The references to Williams’ play slide and slip across the world, across culture and into our back pockets. So well worn we can nearly take it for granted, that it is there.
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I’ve been largely absent from this site for a little while, not due to anything other than my own need to focus and hone in something else. The making of a show. Singled Out which was programmed as a part of The Reginald Season at The Seymour Centre… http://www.seymourcentre.com/events/event/singled-out/ To explain where I’ve been and what I’ve been up to and thinking, I’ll need to back track a little. Read more

I have always thought the greatest currency I have in my life is not money, nor what I look like- but my time. Time is one of the major artistic challenges in theatre. We are bound by a timeline to make, then show work – and our work lives only for as long as it lives in the hearts and memories of others. Read more

When I wake up every morning I think about the problems and struggles of the Australian creative industries. I think about what I can do to help, what are the structues and systems that keep us making the same mistakes, inventing the wheel, culturally stagnant, infantilizing artists. I wonder if our current system, through its tough and difficult financial terrain misses out on having artists from economically depressed background… Every morning I feel this urge and urgency not to capitulate to a system I have often felt broken or at least lacking confidence (and sometimes this manifests as arrogance or cockiness). Every morning I wake up and start making a personal “to do” list of what I can do to help/change or at least provide opportunity in my patch of the arts: performing arts.

This morning, in my usual “in bed reading reviews, catching up on social media, reading the newspapers” routine, I saw another fantastic provocation in regards to the question of “training artists” on Facebook by Wesley Enoch: Read more

Evening of petty procrastination (laundry avoidance) and JUST NOT being near a computer nor any sort of text obligations (script reading, play assessments, rehearsal preparation) coupled with the fact that I don’t own a television, propelled me towards the Factory Theatre for a spot of comic relief. Read more

After a fairly long day of being me… which these days seems to be fairly long and full (and yes I must admit interesting) there is a part of me that desires to be delighted by something new. And I must admit that when scrolling through the list of options I rarely think “Hey! I might go hang out at a mainstage theatre company!” Instead I’ll spontaneously turn up to somewhere weird, or dark or hard to find – for the mere thrill of it. Tonight was one such night. Propelled by procrastination (yes my laundry ever looms) I hit the street in search of a conversation or a distraction. Read more

A small postscript on Jude the Obscure at PACT as a part of the Sydney Fringe.

OK first up – this show has NOTHING TO DO WITH THOMAS HARDY. Which I personally think is a good thing.
Secondly this show has A LOT TO DO WITH JUDITH LUCY. Which personally I think is also a good thing. Read more