A Feast For The Ears – An Evening With Omega Ensemble

Inner Landscapes

Inner Landscapes Rating

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My husband and I had the pleasure of attending Omega Ensemble’s concert, Inner Landscapes, at the beautiful Melbourne Recital Centre. Neither of us had been to a live classical concert before, so we had no idea what to expect. What we got was an amazing aural sound-bath from the incredibly accomplished musicians who make up the ensemble. With the hall’s beautifully acoustic design holding, reflecting and reinforcing the music from every direction, this was a true feast for the ears, joyful, surprising and moving in turns.

The night opened with a powerful original score by the Pulitzer Prize winning composer, John Corigliano. ‘Soliloquy’, written in memory of his father, was a tender exploration of that loss. The interplay between the violins and the solo clarinet carried a poignant sense of the empty spaces left behind when someone we love leaves. Even with its mournful threads pulling at absence and longing, quietly unravelling the listener, it was not without drama. There was an almost Hitchcockian feel to the piece in places, a sense of tension surrounding the beauty of the violins, suggesting that even as normal life was being lived, something darker and more insidious tugged at the edges, threatening to overwhelm it. It was an incredible treat to hear it live and be invited into that deeply personal experience.

The second piece was delightfully familiar to me and will be to many of you too, I imagine. An expanded ensemble, now including cellos and double bass (I love these deep, earthy, mournful instruments the most), gave us a powerful performance of Franz Schubert’s String Quartet No. 14, Death and the Maiden. Performed in four movements, it rose and fell deftly. The first conjured rolling hills, bird murmurations, a feeling of youth and vitality, with an edge of unpredictability and sometimes danger created by the dancing, vigorous strings. My understanding is that this movement reflects the Maiden’s terror of Death. The second is slower, meant to convey a sense of safety despite Death’s presence. Here Death felt safe and generous rather than fearful, yet still carried the passionate, dramatic surges of feeling such a meeting would bring. It felt like being carried through the full emotional gamut of a life, seasons the Maiden will never live through rolled past as if in fast forward, a little like the idea that your life flashes before your eyes when you die. The third and fourth movements were sublime, returning to earlier themes with maturity and depth. The ensemble worked together impeccably. With no conductor, I watched with great interest the subtle interplay between the musicians, the tightly bound group led with breath and eye and the subtle hand of the principal viola and violinists. I was left thinking: if this is how incredible this ensemble is, can the Philharmonic really be any better?

 

 

The third piece was another original composition, ‘Rounds’ by Jessie Montgomery, a Grammy Award winning composer and violinist. Inspired by T.S. Eliot’s epic poem ‘Four Quartets’, it felt to me like sitting in the centre of a storm. With passionate, skilful playing from pianist, Vatche Jambazian, I felt immersed in water: storm clouds producing lightning and rain, surging seas, the threat of violence and danger interspersed with lighter, more playful refrains, violins and piano exploring light and dark together, discordant, harmonious, rising and falling in ever more powerful rounds. A unique and interesting piece, and one that left the listener feeling as though they’d resurfaced breathlessly from deep underwater.

The final piece, a world premiere of ‘Paludarian Dreams’ by another award winning composer, Paul Stanhope, explored themes of nature found in a busy city. It was written for Omega Ensemble and it’s Artistic Director and solo clarinetist, David Rowden, whose deft fingers brought easily to mind the swift unpredictability of birds in flight.
Workshopped with the ensemble members, it felt beautifully collaborative and is, by their own admission, always evolving. It is joyful, sometimes whimsical and always surprising, delighting the audience with violin frogs that made us laugh out loud (not something you expect from classical music) as they called throatily to one another in the dark marshy waters of the piece. And the long cello solo was a genuine treat for me.

Honestly, this was one of the most enjoyable experiences I’ve had as a reviewer. Some of that can perhaps be put down to the delight of my first foray into live orchestral music, but most of it was down to the sheer talent of these highly accomplished musicians and the power of the compositions.

I highly recommend you go and see them as soon as you can, whichever city you happen to be in, because the only sad thing about the whole experience was that the auditorium wasn’t full to bursting. Omega ensemble truly deserves a full house.

To book tickets to Inner Landscapes, please visit https://www.melbournerecital.com.au/whats-on/current-productions/omega-ensemble-inner-landscapes.

Photographer: Laura Manariti

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Lots of Pop – Just Not Enough Snap or Crackle

The Breakup Variety Hour

The Breakup Variety Hour Rating

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Ariana & the Rose arrives at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival with The Breakup Variety Hour – a wry cabaret-style journey through the six stages of romantic recovery and she brings with her genuine charm, vocal talent and the kind of infectious energy that makes you root for her from the moment she walks on stage. The Trades Hall, with its intimate rooms and slightly scuffed historic charm, is a fitting venue for a show about the unglamorous business of losing love.

The show’s structure is clever: six stages, neatly framed, moving from the wreckage of a relationship toward something that resembles wisdom. Ariana guides us through each with a mix of comedy banter, personal anecdotes and occasional audience participation, the familiar toolkit of the solo festival show. But it’s in the final stage – a philosophical, even quietly spiritual, reflection on what breakups really reveal about us – that the show finds its most resonant ground. It was a genuinely satisfying way to close, offering unexpected psychological depth after the performance and pizzazz, leaving the audience with something to carry home beyond the glitter.

Where The Breakup struggles is in finding its identity. The original songs, (written by Ariana herself and available to buy on CD), are genuinely good and surprisingly moving but they are almost at odds with the rest of the show. They don’t quite gel with the comedy banter surrounding them and the collision between the two never quite resolves. We found ourselves watching what felt like two shows running in parallel – a moderately entertaining comedy set and a mini pop concert – each quietly undermining the other’s momentum. The songs, which we expected to be more snippy, funny comedic offerings instead spoke of genuine feeling and heartache; the comedy parts were too brief and held the audience at too much of a distance. Holding these two different styles at once is a difficult ask of any audience and on the night we attended, it created a sense of awkwardness that the show never fully settled.

 

 

Comedy, as anyone in the industry will tell you, is brutally hard work. The hours behind a single hour of stage time are extraordinary – the writing, the refining, the killing of darlings, the courage required to simply show up and do your thing in front of strangers and hope it lands. The fact that The Breakup has sold out in Ariana’s native New York and toured major international festivals, including our own Melbourne Comedy Festival, speaks to a genuine audience connection that is clearly working somewhere. On the night we attended, the crowd was small and a little cool and she handled it with professionalism and grace, working the room with warmth even when it didn’t quite warm back.

But for those of us who came hungry for laughs, the show could lean further into personal storytelling – the messy, specific, mortifying anecdotes of dating life that make comedy truly land. What we got felt, at times, more like a vehicle for the music than a cabaret style comedy show. The personal glimpses Ariana did share were genuinely engaging, we simply wanted more of them. More of that rawness, more of those stories – the ones that make an audience wince in recognition and laugh in relief and then the balance would tip in a way that could make this genuinely special. It probably didn’t help that in our audience most people were happily coupled, so for a comedy that’s all about break-ups and needs to bounce of the singletons in the room, it wasn’t quite able to find its mark. Nonetheless, the bones of something very funny are here. They just need more flesh on them.

As it stands The Breakup is an enjoyable, well-intentioned romp through familiar romantic territory, performed by someone with good stage presence, a strong voice and a lot to offer. Ariana & the Rose is a performer still shaping her show into its fullest form – and if the philosophical heart of that final act is any indication of where she’s heading, the best may well be yet to come.

To book tickets to The Breakup Variety Hour, please visit https://www.comedyfestival.com.au/browse-shows/the-breakup-variety-hour/.

Photographer: Sidewalk Killa

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The Game Is Afoot… And Slightly Off The Rails

Innes Lloyd - The Lost Casebook of Sherlock Holmes

Innes Lloyd – The Lost Casebook of Sherlock Holmes Rating

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I had the pleasure of attending The Lost Casebook of Sherlock Holmes by Innes Lloyd last night as part of the Melbourne Comedy festival and it was one of those intimate, slightly chaotic and genuinely enjoyable theatre experiences that remind you what live performance can feel like when it’s happening right in front of you and, occasionally, almost on top of you.

The venue, the Impro Melbourne Theatre, was comfortable but tiny and we were seated so close to the stage I could have comfortably rested my feet on it. My companion described it perfectly, it didn’t feel like watching a play so much as watching people. There’s something disarming (and slightly voyeuristic) about that level of up close and personal proximity. You can see every flicker of expression, every moment of hesitation or delight. At times it made it harder to fully drop into the world of the story, but it also created a kind of immediacy and shared experience that larger productions can’t replicate.

The premise is a clever one: three legendary “lost” Sherlock Holmes case files, mysteries Sir Arthur Conan Doyle himself hinted at across his impressive written works but cases that while connected to existing Sherlock Holmes tales, are entirely improvised – which gives clever improv actors an awful lot of room to play in! From this simple starting point, the four-person cast built a series of unfolding stories, moving fluidly between characters and locations. We met the foul-mouthed Victorian street urchins (the Irregulars), various members of the landed gentry, Dr Watson, Sherlock Holmes himself plus his corpulent brother, Mycroft and bumbling, dim-witted Inspector Lestrade with a particularly memorable foot fetish. There was also a funny thread involving Cluedo that wove its way through the third story, adding another layer of playful absurdity.

 

 

What stood out most was the ensemble’s commitment to the form. Improv, at its best, is a kind of high-wire act – a balance between structure and spontaneity, where performers are constantly listening, adapting and building something together in real time. There were a few inevitable fluff-ups (it was opening night), but rather than detracting from the show, these moments often became highlights. The cast leaned into them, supported each other and turned small stumbles into shared jokes, which delighted and deepened the connection with the audience.

That willingness to embrace imperfection is part of what makes improv so engaging to watch. You’re not just seeing a finished product – you’re witnessing the process unfold. There’s a generosity in it – a sense that everyone, performers and audience alike, is in on the same experiment.

The audience appreciated the small facts and trivia woven in about Sherlock Holmes and his creator, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and are apparently something of an integral part of all Innes Lloyd shows. These touches added a layer of texture and gave the show a gentle nod to its literary roots, even as it gleefully departed from them.

The overall feeling of the performance was one of enthusiasm, wit and genuine enjoyment. The cast clearly put their heart and soul into it and that energy carried the show. Improv is rarely about polished perfection, but rather about play, presence and the joy of watching something take shape in the moment.

All in all, it’s a lively, inventive and warm-hearted night out – especially for anyone who appreciates the unique magic of improv and the thrill of seeing something created right before your eyes.

To book tickets to Innes Lloyd – The Lost Casebook of Sherlock Holmes, please visit https://www.comedyfestival.com.au/browse-shows/holmes-unbound-the-lost-casebook-of-sherlock-holmes.

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Love, Hidden in Plain Sight

Hold Me Hold Me Hold Me

Hold Me Hold Me Hold Me Rating

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There is something quietly radical about a production that strips away every theatrical crutch and dares its audience to simply feel. No set. No costume changes. Just two actors in shorts and t-shirts, barefoot on a bare stage – and the accumulated weight of centuries of love that ‘dare not speak its name’.

Jake Stewart’s Hold Me, Hold Me, Hold Me is structured as a series of intimate vignettes, each one a world unto itself: an aspiring playwright in love with an actor; two boys preparing for a Schoolies trip; a male witch on trial by his childhood friend in Puritan New England, or a man marrying his beloved’s sister, the closest he will ever legally, socially, safely get. The conceit is elegant – the same two souls, meeting and almost-meeting across time, across continents, across the impossible distances that history has placed between men who love men.

What makes this work so beautifully is the writing. It is poetic without being precious, shifting in register and rhythm to boldly conjure each new era – the clipped formality of pilgrim speech, the sprawling drawl of young American farmhands, the raw vernacular of contemporary Australia. Each scene feels genuinely native to its moment in time and yet the anguish running beneath them is identical. That pain is the through-line. That tender longing is the whole point.

 

 

The two performers, Callum O’Mara and Wheeler Maurer, are extraordinary. With no costume, no scenery, nothing but an embodied shift in posture, accent and language, they become someone entirely new at the top of each scene. It is technical work of real precision, but it never feels like a demonstration – it feels fully inhabited for us. The transitions between vignettes are marked by a live solo violinist, whose sparse, mournful phrases function both as punctuation and as emotional permission: let this one go before you receive the next.

The framing device – the same lovers at the beginning and end of their story, which open and close the play – is a knowing touch reminding us that this is a story being told deliberately, with intention and love, by someone who understands what it must have cost those who went before. The ones who lived it silently, from the shadows.

Leaving the theatre, the feeling is not quite sadness and not quite relief. It is something bittersweet, more like gratitude – for the relative safety of the gay community now, for the writer-director’s refusal to look away from all those centuries of concealed, aching love and for finding language equal to the weight of it all.

As a straight cis woman, as an ally, as someone who loves excellent theatre and beautiful acting, I urge you to go.
Hold Me, Hold Me, Hold Me is a touching and profound exploration of love, and a reminder that love belongs to everyone.

To book tickets to Hold Me Hold Me Hold Me, please visit https://events.humanitix.com/holdmeholdmeholdme.

Photographer: Alan Robert Hopkins

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