Live on Air with Poet Laureate Telia Nevile

Written by Libby King

Poet Laureate Telia Nevile is proof that poetry is both dangerous and cool. Her stage is a pirate radio station in her bedroom reminiscent of the cult 1990 Christian Slater film Pump Up the Volume – a space she occupies simply in sleepwear and expertly with words.

Her poem about grammar no doubt becomes ingrained in the minds of many who see her, either in relief at having the sentiment so eloquently expressed or in fear of f*cking it up. Perhaps there are also others like me who have a bit of both. I am a child of Whitlam so I am in mortal fear while writing this review.

Yet, I am also someone who feels it necessary to document incorrectly used apostrophes, such as this one in the Garden of Unearthly Delights, so sympathise with her “Abbreviation Armageddon” and “Apostrophe Apocalypse.”

She provided other wonderful standout moments, including a reading of a West Wing encounter as an erotic romance. She held us in her throbbing hand as the audience, especially two gentlemen close to me, shook and gasped – apparently with laughter. Her poem in blues style stuck in my head for days after.

A talented poet and performer, she can recite her poems slowly and rhythmically without losing the poetry to an over-emphasis on either prose or beat. Finishing with the cutest of curtsies, Poet Laureate Telia Nevile knows how to show her audience love both over the sound waves and in the flesh.

The Terrible Infants

By Libby King

Like witnessing a whimsical and magical montage of gothic fairytales jumping off the pages of a book, The Terrible Infants is an enchanting combination of puppetry, poetry, singing and storytelling.

In the tradition of other great interpreters of fairytales who have hawked their goods in Adelaide, like the creepy puppetry of The Grimstones and the vaudeville audio-visuals of 1927, The Terrible Infants is like a time machine that transports fairytales into twenty-first century.

Fairytales sometimes get a bad rep as simplistic, fanciful or silly, but The Terrible Infants shows how they carve out grey areas in subtle and intricate ways. Take the stories of Beatrice and Thing-A-Me-Boy, for example. Not only does Beatrice’s story feature a violin-playing self-obsessed talkative beehive, but this story of a girl who talks too much is then contrasted with the absolute heartbreak of Thing-A-Me-Boy who doesn’t talk enough. It makes for one of those – “God, I think this puppet is going to make me cry” – moments.

No attention to fairytale detail is left unchecked – there are references to beanstalks, woodcutters, castles, giants, bread bakers, wolves, bears, and toadstools. There are puppets of all dimensions and made of all manner of objects.

The puppets are the stand out attraction – beautifully made and imaginatively used. The yoda-like smelly boy with toadstools for hair. The bigger-than-life size tummy of Tum who should have “listened to his mum not his tum.” The bear in three parts (my favourite).

Instrumentally it is comically excessive: a cello, an accordion, a ukulele, a cow bell, a whistle, an oboe, a violin, a recorder, a tuba, drums, a keyboard, a blow-organ, a red kazoo, a blue kazoo and an orange kazoo. Phew.

The show is topped off with white-faced, red-dotted actors and musicians who are engaging and cheeky. I love that such talented people do this kind of theatre which can seem childish and unserious, but which in fact goes to the heart of the most deep and dreamy of human landscapes.

The Terrible Infants is absolute delight for anyone who is lured by Once Upon a Times and stories that should be whispered to children late at night.

Eds Note – Welcome to Libby King! Originally an Adelaidean, Libby is back from Canada for a visit. Fortuitously (or on purpose) she is here for the Festivals!

 

Scaramouche Jones

Written by Jane Durbridge

The CIT crew never failed to provide quality theatre during the 2010 Fringe, and Scaramouche Jones sets the standard of excellence again this year.

Justin Butcher by Bill Versteegh

Justin Butcher is brilliant as Scaramouche takes us through his (& the worlds) 20th century journey from Trinidad to Africa, Italy and Poland until he finally reaches his longed for destination…England.

His storytelling is fascinating, and with just a few props we live his 100 years of poverty and servitude with plenty of wry humour and physicality.

Each story is another layer of white upon his already pale skin, but it’s not until he realises his ability to distract children in their moments before death at Auschwitz that his life as a clown is cemented.

The white cobra is a perfect metaphor for the play- mesmerising the crowd that pays for his livelihood like the audience is mesmerised by the performance of Scaramouche.

It’s an enchanting story so very worth seeing – even with a slight fear of clowns!

Eds – We’re very grateful that Jane was willing to confront her fear of clowns to see Scaramouche Jones. As usual CITAdelaide have brought a wealth of amazing shows to this year’s fringe. See the offerings on their webiste. http://www.citadelaide.com/

Mangina

Amanda Monroe has a story to tell about her life and (several times over) near deaths – and it’s a wonderful  story to hear.

The Spare Room is a perfect small venue for a very intimate show, and it allows us a very up close and personal experience with Amanda.

We share the tragedy of a life lived with another gender trying to break free, but the circumstances and prejudices of the time dictate an easier road through lying.

Amanda tries to become the boy her parents expect her to be – sporty, academic – an achiever – while secretly lusting after a wear of the beautiful white dress that she saw as a 3 year old.

The Spare Room on the Garden of Unearthly DelightsLiving the lie is a road filling with ways to push the girl away – work, alcohol, drugs, food, until the petrifying moment of acceptance of how she needs to live her life to be happy.

Thankfully with understanding mentors, and drugs of a more positive nature, she’s with us today to share her story with humour and warmth, and it was well worth the wait.

PS Note: while the Spare Room is very cute, the chairs are a challenge – cushion headsup.

Mangina is at The Garden of Unearthly Delight until the 18 March

Eds note: Amanda Monroe was in the 2011 Adelaide Fringe in the show Drags Aloud.

The Ballad of the Unbeatable Hearts: absolutely unbeatable

If I could get away with writing a review that said Richard Fry is a genial genius, and you should go and see anything and everything he does because he is a genius and very genial, I would.

Of course, that’s not possible. So clearly – because I take my job as a reviewer very seriously – I will have to tell you why you should – nay, must! – go and see his latest show The Ballad of The Unbeatable Hearts.

Firstly, some background. I first saw (and met) Richard Fry at last year’s Fringe, when he performed in Smiler (which he also wrote), and which made me cry. But in a good way. Richard was also very genial and humble off stage, and made himself available to mingle with Fringe folk, seeing other shows and getting in amongst it. He is also quite lovely on Twitter, and will generally tweet back if you @mention him (although he’s not following me back yet…*shakes fist*! I’m @dileeshus nudge nudge, hint hint if you are reading this review, Richard!).

So, to say that I was thrilled to be seeing – and reviewing! – Richard’s new show would be an understatement. And he did not disappoint (and I was just as thrilled that he recognised me from last year).

I love intimate theatre. And Higher Ground, as a venue, is brilliant for that. While I didn’t quite make the front row (I was in the second), I was only around 2 metres away from the stage. And the stage isn’t so much of a stage as an elevated area. One step and you are there. The beauty of being so close is that you can see the emotions of the actor as he or she performs. It is honest theatre, that’s for sure. (Also, the actors themselves tend to hang out there between shows. Last night, I got to thank the actors of Outland for their performance – if you read my review, you’ll know why that’s important. But I digress.)

Richard’s sets are always minimalist and quite simple, which I love. The props don’t get in the way of the story. Instead they support the narrative, like a chair, a book, a snippet of music (I know music’s not a prop, but it fits nicely here!). There are no elaborate costumes, nothing to distract from the story that is unfolding for the audience. Everything is carefully though out, and nothing is there unless it has a purpose. Unless it is supposed to be.

Unbeatable Hearts is told mostly in rhyme. To my mind, this is a clever narrative technique because Richard’s subject matter is dark. Very dark. Rhyming – which seems child-like and innocent on face value – makes the subject matter no less confronting, but much more accessible. Rhyming draws the audience in by cloaking the story in the familiar and safe, allowing the narrative to flow and the characters to develop. Before you know it, Bam! You’re hooked.

This play has a number of main characters, and each one performed beautifully by Richard. From the nurse, who gave the main character the telling off of a life-time, to the parents who had lost their children to suicide, each one added another dimension, another layer to the story. Through them, we are forced to confront tough issues.

Oh, you see I’ve mentioned suicide? I’m glad, because I was wondering how I was going to bring that up, given it’s generally a taboo subject. The play is about suicide, and how lost gay souls could – if given the chance and not forced to make life and death decisions because they have no tribe and no sense of belonging – contribute to helping make the world a better place. The play is about the suicide of young, gay teens, and why we need every single one of them. It’s also about how they can be saved.

Unbeatable Hearts is an emotional ride, no doubt about it. I was laughing one minute, in raptures the next, than really angry, then moved to tears. In Richard’s deft hands, I was putty. Despite what I said earlier, this review cannot do justice to the depth, honesty, pain and passion of The Ballad of The Unbeatable Hearts. I am not that skilled a writer. You simply must go and see it for yourself.  But you must be prepared to be confronted and be challenged. You must be prepared to walk away knowing that you, personally, have a responsibility to make a difference. You cannot walk away from the play without being fundamentally affected.

Suffice it to say, Richard made me cry again. And that’s a good thing.

Last words

For those of you who have seen the play, here is a link to Unbeatable Hearts’ Facebook Page.

Forget “save the cheerleader, save the world”. Much better to save a young gay person, and make the world a place where “gay does not mean shit”.