Still Sitting In The Afterglow

Afterglow

Afterglow Rating

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2

Belvoir was buzzing with an eclectic mix of people heading towards two different shows. It was difficult to discern who was headed where, but it was a delightful mix from varied walks of life, all excited for a night of theatre.

Afterglow was in the downstairs theatre, one I hadn’t yet visited, and I was immediately put at ease by the intimacy of the space. I love intimate theatre.

I had seen two songs from this show at Homo Grown, and I am also a massive fan of Cassie Hamilton. I had been wilfully declining theatre trips due to my own rehearsals making this an incredibly busy time for me, but I was already getting FOMO seeing it advertised when the review request came in, and my arm was officially twisted. Let’s just say, thank God for that.

The space is black box style and the set is a lounge bar we come to know as Afterglow. This theatre is warm and welcoming, but it has some limitations. As a singer, I was initially concerned for the performers singing without microphones, but they were so exceptional at their craft that you quickly forgot it. I imagine they are being given some great coaching to help with this challenge. However, there is a unique privilege in seeing a show like this in such an intimate setting while knowing, without doubt, that future runs will be on a much bigger scale.

Afterglow is a world premiere by Purple Tape Productions, presented as part of Griffin Theatre Company’s Lookout program. Written by playwrights Sheanna Parker Russon and Dr Lillian M. Hearne, and co-directed by Cassie Hamilton and Lily Hayman, it is a barbershop rom-com following Michael through a coming-of-age, and the unlikely community of people that play a part in it.

We begin with the barbershop quartet singing about manliness and the importance of keeping barbershop purely for the boys. We note Michael, played by Cassie, is uncomfortable, making small mistakes then berating himself through a song about the desire to be normal. It’s 2012, he’s 21, and this is his only aspiration.

 

 

Nat Jobe leads the quartet as the old-skool male who is a feminist purely by virtue of having married a woman, yet believes fiercely in upholding traditional male spaces. The character becomes the vehicle for exploring what it means to be a man and the awkwardness of trying to connect when social norms keep restricting you. Jobe plays it with tremendous warmth and comic precision.

There is beautiful a-cappella accompaniment scattered throughout in the barbershop style, with Dr Hearne playing Trevor and taking to the keys at poignant moments. The harmonies are infectious.

Nic Prior’s character T gets a stunning solo that takes us into the depths of an interior world that is tender and enormous. The voice is breathtaking; there is a fragility to the emotional delivery that sits in complete contrast to its power. When Michael and T reconnect two years later, the connection deepens, and Cassie delights with a goofy, gorgeous spiral as Michael tries to navigate T’s vulnerability while still performing what it means to be “one of the boys.”

The lighting design by Tyler Fitzpatrick feels deceptively simple, but the choices are anything but. Moving from the full wash which made us all visible to one another (leaning into the metaphor of trying to blend in), to a single spotlight when characters turned inward was quietly brilliant. Clare Hennessey’s sound design holds the space with equal care.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Cassie Hamilton is a powerhouse, and her character’s big solo moment is elevated by the voice belting behind it, leaving me teary. The first of many times.

By 2016 things have gotten messy, and the boys are doing their best to show up for their friend while not quite knowing how to communicate outside of messy metaphors. The important thing is that they are trying, and learning that vulnerability might actually make them better.

Lincoln Elliott as Matt is great fun, and I genuinely do not know how Elliott manages to be in so many wonderful things at once. The whole ensemble moves together with a generosity that speaks to the room Cassie Hamilton and Lily Hayman have created.
Afterglow is a bittersweet, joyful, poignant romp; full of heartache and, most importantly, trans joy. Sheanna and Lillian’s joint journey and shared heart make this a uniquely beautiful story.

I was in tears at the end. Tears of sadness, hope, joy, and just the deep appreciation of a wonderful shared experience.
Go share in it. You will sit in the afterglow for days.

To book tickets to Afterglow, please visit https://griffintheatre.com.au/whats-on/afterglow/.

Photographer: Lucy Parakhina

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Naturism – A Hilarious Exposé

Naturism

Naturism Rating

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5

Griffin Theatre, in association with Sydney Theatre Company, bares all in the debut production of Naturism. Naturism presents a fabulously entertaining script written by Ang Collins, and expertly directed by Declan Greene and Lily Hayman. Naturism is packed with witty dialogue and hilarious one-liners and the show is guaranteed to leave you in stitches. Although the play has serious undertones regarding climate emissions, phone addiction and Australia’s brutal relationship with devastating bushfires, Ang Collins has successfully raised awareness and discussions in a comedic lighthearted manner. It seems nudity can surprisingly be an engaging way of raising important issues- who would have guessed!

The set creatively represented the Australian rainforest with leaves strewn about in a semicircle fashion, mirroring the arched backdrop of three dimensional trees. A rainforest boardwalk doubled effectively as a small stage and its demise in the fire scene was spectacularly executed. The props were effectively utilised, in particular, the outrageous fugly hats, which when placed on top of a naked body, amplified their absurdity and hilarity. As previously indicated, the costumes were mostly very…minimal. However the whip bird and the honey bee costumes were absolutely dazzling.

A cosy cast of five delivered a highly polished performance, showcasing their professional standards throughout. The story begins with three GenX naturists, Sid, (Nicholas Brown), Ray (Glen Hazeldine) and Helen (Hannah Waterman) who are living communally in the Australian rainforest abiding by their golden rule book comedically known as ‘The Thingy.’ Life for these three society castaways had been smooth sailing for decades until phone-obsessed, Tiktok influencer, Evangeline, played by Camila Ponte Alvarez, intrudes upon their serenity and upheaves their simple lives. Just as the naturist group begins to accept Evangeline, in strolls highly indulged Adam (Fraser Morrison) who brings further chaos to the peaceful group.

 

 

The vulnerability the actors display is commendable and pays off exceptionally as it not only solidifies the content but it is cohesive to the script’s elements at large. This dynamic cast all showcased exceptional comedic skill and rightfully deserved the standing ovation and accolades of applause and cheers. I have not witnessed such abundance of laughter during any other performance I have seen. This is credited to the actor’s creative delivery and expertise in conjunction with fabulously humorous dialogue. Hannah Waterman’s portrayal of intoxicated Helen and her journey of enlightenment is side-splitting comedy at its finest.

The lighting was meticulously timed to emphasise hilarious sudden spotlights on the characters. The dramatic opening spotlight poses meticulously timed with blackouts, had the audience hooked from the beginning. The articulation of the lighting during the fire scene was also spectacularly effective, burning bright red accompanied by thick smouldering dry ice. The sound effects of burning and cracking trees which accompanied this impactful scene were compelling and impactful.

Naturism is a solid five-star performance in every aspect. It is a one of a kind production that will indeed reveal more to the audience than any other performance they have likely encountered. There is nothing flaccid about this impactful, poignant, script which the sensationally talented cast gets to the naked truth of.

To book tickets to Naturism , please visit https://griffintheatre.com.au/whats-on/naturism/.

Photographer: Brett Boardman

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Koreaboo: Showing Now At The Belvoir Theatre

Koreaboo

Koreaboo Rating

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1

Koreaboo (Griffin Theatre Company), now playing at Downstairs Belvoir is actor and playwright Michelle Lim Davidson’s story of being a Korean Australian adoptee. But as Lim Davidson states in her playwright’s notes in the program, Koreaboo is not just her story; it is the story of so many international adoptees who have found themselves growing up caught between two cultures, perhaps always grappling with the unanswered questions: ‘Who am I?’ and ‘Where do I belong?’

The intimate space of the Downstairs Theatre at Belvoir is perfect for the cramped, fluorescent-lit convenience store or ‘mart’ in which most of the play’s action takes place. Hannah (Lim Davidson) arrives, straight off a flight from Sydney, at her biological mother, Umma’s, mart during a sweltering Korean summer. It’s soon revealed they’ve had contact before but this time Hannah has high expectations for her visit – she wants to finally connect with her Umma, and she desperately wants some answers to her long-held questions about her Korean family.

Umma, played delightfully by Heather Jeong, smiles sweetly, but her apparent cuteness belies a stubborn determination to avoid her past at all costs. Her life is firmly situated in the present, stacking ramen cups, fixing a pesky fridge light and tending to her colourful collection of garden gnomes. Umma would rather Hannah had never turned up on her neatly swept doorstep. And she doesn’t hesitate to take any opportunity to remind Hannah of this.

Michelle Lim Davidson is a gifted comedic actor, and in writing Koreaboo, she has wisely used comedy to portray a heartbreaking story. Rather than making her story glib, however, the humour serves to help us connect with the pathos of the situation, avoiding melodramatic cliches that other stories of reuniting with lost relatives might fall into. Initially appearing to be an odd couple, it soon becomes clear Hannah and Umma both share a love of performing.

Hannah tries to impress Umma with a rendition of her winning ‘All That Jazz’ number for the Lake Macquarie Eisteddfod 12 years category, but Umma is scathing: ‘Your mother let you wear a sequinned leotard at 12?’ Umma who is obsessed with the talent show Star Power (think Australia’s Got Talent K-style) lives out her own unfulfilled dreams through the contestants on screen. The reality show becomes a point of connection for the two: What if Hannah can revive her long-dormant stage skills and win Star Power? Would Umma finally accept her then?

K-pop culture infuses Koreaboo. Umma randomly quotes from K-pop songs and is obsessed with the eerily pretty Korean pop star, Suga. In fact, the term ‘Koreaboo’ (far from just a cute sounding name as I initially thought), is slang for a non-Korean person who is infatuated with Korean culture, especially K-pop and K-dramas. But, it’s not applied in a complimentary way. Is Hannah a ‘Koreaboo’, someone who is desperately trying to be Korean but never will be?

Derogatory term or not, Koreaboo is a delightful story that deserves to be told, but also to be seen. My hope is that more untold stories of adoptees like Michelle Lim Davidson are given a platform (or stage), rather than being ignored or conveniently brushed under the carpet. How many other cross-cultural stories do Australians have that are waiting to be told? Griffin Theatre Company has shown again that they truly are the grassroots champion of home-grown Australian theatre, giving voice to contemporary, multicultural Australian stories.

To book tickets to Koreaboo, please visit https://griffintheatre.com.au/whats-on/koreaboo/.

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