“Nothing but a breath – a comma – separates life from life everlasting. It is very simple really.”

In America, where a play can be judged in it’s written form as literature (though this does not mean that the prize has always been awarded- see 2006 and 2007), Margaret Edson has acheived two notable accolades for “W;t” – Pulitzer Prize for Drama and Best New Play, New York Drama Critics Circle. Impressive. The list of other plays awarded prizes or noted as finalists for the Pulitzer prize for Drama, have appeared on many of Sydney’s independent stages in recent years and include- Will Eno’s Thom Pain (based on nothing), John Patrick Shanley’s Doubt, a parable, Christopher Shinn’s Dying City, Tracy Letts’ August: Osage County. New Theatre has taken a punt on a largely unknown playwright- who has only written two plays (the second of which and a largely unknown play: and have put the story first. Read more

This is the first play I have seen that is a part of B-sharp this year.

This is the first (and only) New Australian work included in the B-sharp’s first half of 2010 season. It has taken 4 years to write- and was commissioned after Jonathan Gavin won the Philip Parson’s award for Moment on the Lips- which enjoyed much acclaim at Darlinghurst Theatre. I have deep admiration for Jonathan Gavin’s writing- those who saw Tiger Country at Griffin know the power and terror of Gavin’s realism. They know his slick wit and his big heart. They know him for his structural perfectionism- his dialogue… I will now declare my hand: I know Jonathan Gavin somewhat- I know him as sweet and aloof, charming and calm- I have worked with him in 2 different incantations in the last 7 years- I am facebook friends with him- but not “share recipes/ call in times of crisis” type friends. I have long admired his writing. Having said this, I had no idea what to expect of Bang…

Every so often a play comes along and knocks you sideways. Takes your breath away and you are left winded by the feeling that your heart just grew too big too fast. You are silent because you are frightened and in awe. You have been transported and your mind reconfigured. It happened for me with Andrew Bovell’s “When the Rain Stops Falling” and it has happened again with Jonathan Gavin’s “Bang.” Read more

The more theatre I see- the more plays I read- the more I feel the groaning weight of history, of scholarship, of stories, of “words, words, words,” that I don’t know- haven’t seen productions of. I have limited experience of Chekhov- having only read The Seagull, Three Sisters and The Cherry Orchard… lucky for me Uncle Vanya will be making his way onto stage at The Sydney Theatre Company in November this year- saving me an afternoon hunched over a yellowing and somewhat brittle penguin edition. But largely my relationship with Chekov has been theoretical- and not practical. I didn’t see Cate Blanchette as Nina in 1997… I dd not see the original Russian production nearly 100 years earlier in Russia. I have however had the opportunity to see Siren Theatre company’s The Seagull at Sidetrack Theatre this month. Read more

Last Friday was a crazy day. I made the decision to do some life maintenance- you know, pay bills, clean the bathroom, make lists, look at the lists, then cross things off the list once completed. I thought I’d bake some muffins, my neighbour had handed over a hand of blackening bananas for me to transform into soft warm morsels- something I love doing. I bake muffins for a couple of reasons- one is the fact that I spent my teenage years in a banana growing region of NSW- so the banana recipe of my family is a sacred one, another reason is during times of stress and crippling workload- sometimes you need a task which has clearly defined and a conquerable beginning, middle and end (indeed an end which results in eating), another, I find it the easiest way to remind the botanist that though he is knee-deep in PhD writing- that I still exist and he deserves treats for tackling evolutionary science in such a rigorous/focused way. In fact, in a lot of ways I express myself through muffins. I spent last Friday, doing work- I wrote a review, had tea with two very interesting visual artists: http://timandrewart.com/ and http://www.bendenham.com/ , enjoyed the sound of aggressive rain on the leaves of the trees in my garden, had a scrumptious pasta dinner, replied to a metric tonne of emails, paid rent, answered enquiries of a theatrical nature… and bundled myself up, battling the elements to see Peter Brook’s 11 and 12 at the Sydney Theatre with Mr Waites. Read more

I wanted to see this production primarilly because of the Letts’ fever that seems to be apparent in theatres across the world. As a part of the playwrighting zietgeist, Tracy Letts is a familiar name… and will continue to be in the coming months as Steppenwolf’s production of August: Osage County is brought into town by the STC… (not to be confused with the production by the Melbourne Theatre Company last year)… Pulitzers will do that to you, I suppose. (And don’t bother to ask Kristina Keneally about Pulitzers- she’s still trying to work out if plays are literature.) Anyway, in a country that isn’t Australia, which is The United States of America, Tracy Letts has written plays, been awarded money and prizes for them, and now is enjoying stage time at The Griffin Theatre “the home of New Australian writing.”

Like last year, Griffin Theatre Company programmed as a part of their Independent season an early play by Martin Crimp- around the same time the STC was also showing a Martin Crimp. This year it is a Tracy Letts fest, – so I decided to catch the show. It’s an interesting strategy of Griffin’s to have the independent wing introduce a writer to the general public- the earlier work of a writer, in an independent season- before they fork out the serious dollars for the STC production of the new work by the writer. A part of me finds it useful for people to see the growth of a writer- a part of me finds it irritating that there isn’t more diversity, especially when so many living Aussie Writers hunger for the space that the Griffin used to provide them with. Read more

Sunday was a big day. Not just any Sunday- but a pretty special Sunday- the day for industry and peers to come and offer their support, thoughts, feedback to the four new works which have been in development through Queen Street Studio’s Script development hothouse “Off the Shelf”. Read more

I make no bones about being an avid supporter of new work- of any kind. In fact I take pleasure in the hunt to find new scripts brimming with new ideas, new approaches to theatre- I love the hunt for new work- I often refer to it as treasure hunting. I love new work because of its unknown parameters. Its dark hidden corners and its undiscovered territories- I’m not afraid to go there and encounter a play on it’s own terms- and although some writing is not to my personal taste I can always admire the playwright’s tenacity and bravery in contributing to the long winding history of theatrical story-telling. It’s not easy. It’s often painful and unrewarding. Read more

It’s an exciting time for Sydney’s independent artists.

An exciting time for those who are brave enough to throw themselves into the big, deep unknown.

It’s an exciting time for those teams who have been in rehearsal the last 4 weeks, refining and developing their scripts for the first taste of the Sydney Fringe… in the Off the Shelf showing this weekend… Read more

Photo: Leah McGirr

A huge congratulations to Sam Strong for scoring the Artistic Directorship of Griffin Theatre, at the SBW Stables!

I struggled through the door of my apartment today with a wad of window envelopes from my mail box in my mouth, brief case in one hand, my keys in the other, mobile phone wedged in the gap between my ear and my shoulder. I was on a whimsical spontaneous phone call to my parentals who are in their beach-side town 8 hours drive north from here- as my mother asks me if I knew this “fellow”who got the job at Griffith… I am puzzled. I have just come from an OFF THE SHELF rehearsal- I am hungry. Tired. Listing the things I have to do today. “Griffin” she corrects herself. “No” I said. I hadn’t heard. My throat tightens. (I thought I was so in the loop- clearly not- my mother with a newspaper in a tiny north coast NSW town proves yet again she knows more than me). “Sam Strong?” She said, as though it was the weirdest name in the world. (which is funny when you consider her daughter’s name). My throat unclenches. “Awesome” I say… and it’s a genuine relief. “He’s a great guy.” After the phonecall I open my mail- a letter inside announcing his appointment. I check my email there’s an email from James Waites with the press release attached. “Cool” I think to myself as I relax… “Griffin is is safe, strong hands.” Read more

In the black space of Carriagework’s Bay 20 is a woman. A chair. A collection of wicker baskets. An overhead projector. A Computer. A collection of props: lace, flowers, shoes. Scattered in clumps of colour. Heavy black curtains are drawn at the back of space. Lights shoot across the space. The audience scuffs in, some of them chatting, some still wrapped up in scarves- it’s a cold night, some audience members are silently staring at the woman as she fiercely gazes out into the auditorium- two assistants encircling her- positioning her. Folding and unfolding. Dressing. And undressing her. Tilting her head. Moving her hands. Forcing her to tap her foot. There is music playing- the sort that sounds like a female crooner- torch songs- epic love ballads about thwarted romances, broken hearts, longing and survival- one I don’t recognise- I don’t recognise the songs. It’s music from the Phillipines I don’t understand the lyrics. I don’t need to. I understand the feeling. Read more