Machu Picchu and the Golden Empires of Peru Rating
★★★★★
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The ‘Machu Picchu and the Golden Empires of Peru’ exhibition at the Australian Museum is now open, allowing visitors to explore the legendary Machu Picchu and learn more about the history of the Andean people. Going in with no specific expectations, I feel as if I left with a deeper fascination of the ancient Peruvian culture and history.
The experience began with a short introductory video, setting the tone for the journey ahead. Clever use of lighting and sound effects helps maintain a reverent atmosphere throughout, immersing visitors in the story being told. The exhibit’s layout is easy to follow, particularly the story of a mythical man’s journey during life and the afterlife.
With over 130 artefacts, there’s something intriguing to discover at every turn. The accompanying descriptions were detailed yet accessible, offering insights into the cultural significance of each piece. For an additional fee, viewers can enhance their experience by exploring Machu Picchu through a virtual reality tour. The exhibition also caters to a diverse audience, offering sensory-friendly early bird sessions for visitors seeking a more relaxed environment.
While the exhibition is shorter than expected to walk through, it delivers a rich experience that captures the mysteries of ancient Peru. The preservation of artifacts stands out, showcasing the craftsmanship of the Andean people. Taking your time to explore each corner is essential to fully appreciate the depth of the collection.
One minor drawback for me was the feeling of wanting more. Although the exhibition provides a fascinating glimpse into Peruvian society, I would’ve also enjoyed additional artifacts or narratives. However, the Australian Museum’s broader collections offer plenty more to explore after the exhibition.
Overall, the ‘Machu Picchu and the Golden Empires of Peru’ exhibition offers a captivating and educational journey into Ancient Peru. It’s a must-see for history enthusiasts and casual museum-goers, leaving a lasting impression of one of the world’s most remarkable civilisations.
The Collector is a harrowing tale about an emotionally stunted and lonely young man who abducts a young woman and keeps her locked in his basement. In this modified version of Mark Healy’s stage play, adapted from John Fowles’s 1963 novel of the same name, Frederick Clegg, an amateur entomologist, wins the lottery and uses his new wealth to buy an old country house a few hours from Sydney.
In the basement, he imprisons Miranda Grey, a young art student he stalks and then kidnaps after forming an obsession. Frederick plans to spend time with Miranda so she gets to know him and falls in love, but what follows is a haunting exploration of power, obsession, fear, loneliness, and dangerous delusion.
As I entered the tiny theatre in Redfern, I wasn’t sure what to expect. The stage stretches from wall to wall and takes up most of the room while the audience looks down on the set as if trapped in the basement along with the characters. This sense of immersion and intimacy worked to the play’s advantage. I was sitting in the front row, and several times, the performers almost stepped on my feet. Tigran Tovmasian, who plays Frederick, often stared me right in the eyes as he delivered his monologue just a meter away, which was both unsettling and intensely immersive. Frederick, not Tigran, was trying to make me understand.
Tigran was, without hyperbole, sensational. I was genuinely impressed by his embodiment of Frederick, from the tone of his voice to his body language. He almost had me feeling sympathetic. I couldn’t help but appreciate the tiny character details, such as nervously picking at his nails, picking at the table, slumped shoulders, and even his trembling lips during the intensely emotional moments. Underneath the awkward nervousness and polite frustration was a real sense of danger, and you fear what Frederick might be capable of.
This fear was convincingly embodied by AJ, playing Miranda Grey. Her performance carefully balanced Miranda’s complex emotional journey, moving between terror and isolation to anger and violence and the desperate attempts to manipulate Frederick into letting her go.
Ruby Busuttil’s direction wisely gave us several moments of laughter despite the heavy themes, with small jokes and absurd moments lifting the tension at the right moments without sacrificing the integrity of the drama or being disrespectful to the story. While bad directing is obvious, great directing isn’t usually noticeable because you get sucked into the narrative and everything just works. That’s what happened. It wasn’t super-flashy or overly dramatic or trying to show off. It just worked. Ruby also produced the play, bringing together a solid team that supported the performances.
Adrien Stark’s set design was impeccable, and his experience shows. The set itself represents three different spaces without needing a single set change, and it worked convincingly. Despite the theatre being tiny there was still plenty of room for the action to take place. Making use of the theatre’s own walls and pillars, Frederick’s basement was utterly convincing and didn’t look like a cheap theatre set. Everything from the furniture and set dressing to the props used by the characters were detailed and convincing. Supporting this fantastic set design and Alice Chao’s solid stage management was the impressive lighting and AV.
The lighting was beautifully crafted to represent the various spaces and time of day without being overbearing. It wasn’t stage lighting. It was film lighting, with the character’s faces often beautifully lit as if I was watching a movie. Isobel Rabbidge should be commended for their ability to create a truly immersive experience without drawing attention to the technical components of the play, including the correct balance of additional audio effects to support the changes in scenery. This can often be hard to achieve.
The accompanying music composed by Roger Ly generally worked well, although I felt it was a bit heavy-handed in the earlier monologues and distracted me from the performance. But part from this the music was a strong addition to the emotional content and tension of the performance.
The only real weakness of the entire production was the script. It does drag a little from time to time, repeating itself or not diving deep enough into the darker emotional journeys from the novel. But that has nothing to do with this production or its team.
All in all, The Collector is the best produced play I’ve seen this year, and I highly recommend you ‘catch it’ before it’s gone.
The Collector is showing at the Playhouse Theatre, inside The Actors Pulse in Redfern, Sydney, for a limited run until December 1st.
Mother and Son, a masterful stage adaptation of the beloved 1984-1994 TV show, opens in a stereotypical living room of a household that’s been lived in for 50 years.
Maggie, an elderly woman, precariously balances on a ladder, struggling to change a lightbulb. Before disaster strikes, her son Arthur returns home, reminding her with a mixture of exasperation and affection that he had already taken care of it earlier. This seemingly trivial exchange sets the tone for a play that deftly balances humor with the emotional weight of caring for a loved one with dementia.
From the outset, it’s clear that the mother and both sons casting is impeccable. The chemistry between mother and son, be it the eldest – Arthur, or youngest, Robert, and between the two brothers themselves, is nothing short of magical. The family dynamic is all too relatable, with one son being the favourite, despite never actually doing anything to help, while the other being the unsung hero, living with the mother and dealing with the every day, only to feel guilty to take some time for himself. It’s a dynamic many families will recognize, and it provides plenty of comedic moments laced with tenderness.
The script shines with authenticity, navigating the fine line between comedy and drama. The humor is sharp and relatable, never diminishing the emotional gravity of the situation. The everyday absurdities of caring for an elderly parent are captured brilliantly, from Arthur’s constant guilt to the quirky moments of Maggie’s fading memory. One particularly hilarious and universally relatable touch is the series of voicemail messages left by telemarketers on Maggie’s answering machine, offering everything from cheap electricity deals to vitamins — these clever scene change breaks are both funny and poignant, capturing the absurdity of modern life while highlighting the isolation of the elderly.
The direction is flawless, creating a space where the audience feels like they’re watching their own family dynamics unfold. In dealing with such a delicate subject as dementia and caregiving, the production manages to be both respectful and remarkably entertaining. The adaptation, transitioning seamlessly from television to stage, introduces the beloved characters to a new generation while allowing long-time fans to relive the magic.
As the curtain falls, you are left wanting more. Is there a sequel? I already forgot.
Blur: To the End is a documentary that takes fans behind the scenes of Blur’s long-awaited return to the studio to record their first album in over a decade. The film captures the band’s journey, from their reunion in Hong Kong to the creative process of making new music, offering a mix of nostalgia, humour, and candid moments.
Those looking for a 101 on Blur’s history or surprise revelations of previously unknown secrets from the band’s past will have to look elsewhere. This movie is for lifelong fans. It’s not an introduction to Blur or the band members. It’s for fans who know the mythos and are excited to tune in for the latest chapter.
Though the documentary focused on the lead-up to the new tour and the creation of the new album, the audience gets a peak behind the scenes at the surprisingly calm creative process of talented people with a complicated history. A group of people who love the music and want to keep feeding that love, in whatever form it may take.
While the film gives little context as to how the band met or how they bounded, many nostalgia-filled stories are exchanged between the members as though they are catching up over a pint in a pub. Continuously rewarding the long-term fans of Blur, fans who will be excited to see welcomed along to this next chapter.
The film has a very intimate feel, even for a documentary. The audience is shown the band members’ homes, where the bandmates wear their comfort with each other casually. This does mean that the tone can lean oddly morbid at times. When they are philosophising about life and their relationships, it feels like an end-of-life reflection rather than an acknowledgement of a midpoint. The mid-50s might not be the prime rockstar age, but 50 is far from the end of their musical life.
Given the zeitgeists piqued interest in Brit-pop, with the oft-talked-about Oasis reunion on the horizon, it seems like a missed opportunity not to explore the musical impact Blur had in leading the British bands of the ’90s. Instead, the focus is where they are now, only looking forward.
Truly what you glean from this film is that it is hard to be in a band. It’s much like a family. You all love one thing, but personal dynamics can often get in the way.
To be this successful and this creative after a long and turbulent time together is no small feat. What we see is a group of people who have a genuine love for each other and the music. Gone are the glitz, the glamour, the tension of early rock and roll-dom. Here, you get to join some old mates catching up over Victoria Sponge.
