As we walk into a space with furniture covered with material, it feels like visiting an old mansion where memories are preserved from the passage of time under dust cloths. We become, inadvertently, part of the story. Exhuming the dead.
With the brilliant use of staging, technology and a mesmerizing live score, performer Marcus McKenzie takes us on a journey where death is treated more like a joke, with humorous anecdotes of various ways to die and fun interaction with the audience, where McKenzie finds the commonality between us and him, the fact that we all will eventually die. As we laugh and come up with future scenarios, our naivety is interrupted by phone calls from McKenzie’s brother, who we find out has passed away a while ago.
These real-time phone calls make us question the linearity of time. What is the present, and what is in the past? Through this technique, we are suddenly face to face with laptop screens, where McKenzie retells the story of when he found out about his brother’s passing. Prolonging the inevitable, he was fighting a battle between wanting to keep normality and finding the right time to face the inevitable.
Through this clever use of technology and screens, it suddenly feels like the play is no longer in a theatre but a one-on-one conversation, almost like stumbling upon a video diary, where you become privy to a very personal story of loss and broken dreams.
By the end of the play, all that is left is a shrine to both McKenzie’s and possibly your personal trauma, the memories you thought you buried long ago but that have been exhumed. As you leave the theatre, the smiles and laughter that you shared only a moment ago are replaced by longing for the past, the illusive memory of your own life before you felt that sadness and hurt that you now share with McKenzie.
It is a captivating performance that will keep you thinking long after you leave the auditorium. On for four more nights only, don’t miss out on this incredible production.
This production is part of the Liveworks Festival 2024, which will be hosted at The Carriageworks Performance Space from 23rd to 27th October.
The Kadimah Yiddish Theatre has done something extraordinary with their story of Yentl – now showing at the Playhouse at the Sydney Opera House: they have reclaimed Isaac Bashevis Singer’s original story and made it sing in a way that the 1983 musical adaptation could not.
I came into the show with high expectations. When I discovered Singer’s short stories as a teenager, they were revelatory for me. His folk tales, full of customs and characters I didn’t know, were yet more real to me than the Anderson and Grimm tales I’d grown up with. All the demons and sprites in Singer’s stories are simply people with desires and faults driven to extremes. His fairy tales reveal human nature.
It is that spirit that this production captures. Stepping into the world of Yentl is to enter a fairy tale realm. The ground is covered in dirt, rocks and grass, a kind of haunted forest. Everything is just slightly exaggerated, including the actors with their white pantomime makeup. This is not a real world; it is beyond the real, ultra real, super real. And by adhering closely to Singer’s story, published in 1962 and set in 1873, it is also profoundly modern.
Yentl is a young woman who wants to study and yearns for all the benefits that men have. After the death of her father, she takes on a male name – Anshl – and garb, and goes to study at a yeshiva, on the way meeting the melancholic Avigdor who will become her best friend and study partner. As Avigdor pines for Hodes, his betrothed bride whose family rejected him, he suggests that Anshl marry her instead. What could possibly go wrong? Especially as the spark between the two young men feels like it could be something more than friendship.
Amy Hack does a superb job of playing both Yentl and Anshl. She captures Anshl’s eagerness and excitement to be in the world of men, despite being woefully ignorant of men themselves. Her assumed boyishness gradually transforms into something else – something more powerful as Yentl finally realises what she can and can’t have. Nicholas Jaquinot and Genevieve Kingsford are also excellent as Avigdor and Hodes respectively, characters that could easily be one-dimensional but which they both give great depth to.
An interesting addition to the story is Evelyn Krape’s Figure, or yeytser ho’re, who is witch, fairy, joker and conscience all rolled into one. She propels both Yentl and the narrative forward with an unrelenting energy.
Whether on purpose or not, I found that the Figure the queerest character in a cast full of very queer characters. She captures the torment and joy that being queer often feels like – especially in times or places of repression. And let’s face it: everyone in Yentl is a bit queer. Anshl doesn’t want to be a wife, but is fine with being a husband, and you suspect he even quite likes it. Avigdor, for all his loud proclaiming of how much he loves the female form, is definitely more than a little in love with his (male) friend. And Hodes, sweet Hodes, virtuous Hodes, loves that Anshl doesn’t smell or act like the other boys she’s met.
What I particularly loved about this adaptation is that it doesn’t shy away from Yentl’s complicated desires. It is not only that she wants what men have – books and a wife – but she also rejects the feminine. She doesn’t want to be a wife, she doesn’t want to cook someone else’s bread, she doesn’t want to give up her life. And yet she desires both Avigdor and Hodes, and wants to be both male and female. If god created Eve from Adam, then Adam was already both male and female. And if Adam was created in god’s form, then that means god is also both male and female. Mic drop.
In the final part of the show, when Yentl rejects her shame, takes off her male garb and binds her tefillin, it is a beautiful act of defiance. I don’t have to choose, she indicates. This is my body and this is who I am.
Tuesday 22 October 2024 6:00pm^ Wednesday 23 October 2024 7:15pm Thursday 24 October 2024 7:15pm Friday 25 October 2024 7:15pm Saturday 26 October 2024 1:30pm Saturday 26 October 2024 7:15pm Sunday 27 October 2024 3:00pm Tuesday 29 October 2024 6:00pm Wednesday 30 October 2024 7:15pm Thursday 31 October 2024 7:15pm Friday 1 November 2024 7:15pm Saturday 2 November 2024 1:30pm Saturday 2 November 2024 7:15pm Sunday 3 November 2024 3:00pm Tuesday 5 November 2024 6:00pm Wednesday 6 November 2024 1:30pm Wednesday 6 November 2024 7:15pm Thursday 7 November 2024 7:15pm
The opening of Comandante felt like a perfume ad for one of the big Italian fashion houses—a Dolce & Gabbana or Prada. A young woman in a 1940s dress looks longingly through a window. Her voiceover, while not saying much of consequence, gives the scene an elegance that got me interested to keep watching. The camera filter gives off the effect of that old Hollywood trick of Vaseline on the lens for that soft focus.
Comandante – translates to The Commander. There is nothing commanding about this film whatsoever. Okay, so we’re watching a war film. I got it. There is an Italian man now in the picture, in a singlet looking a little worse for wear. He looks troubled, and we see this is the case after some dialogue between the two characters. But then nothing happens. I was left waiting for nearly two hours. Can something happen?? The women farewell their men as they depart on a submarine to join the war effort. Okay, but nothing happens.
Comandante gave me Dunkirk vibes; that is to say, a picture featuring a lot of pretty boys, well men, and a few well-trodden older men stuck together under the sea. It is a film that tries to give us the real deal by showing lots of untidy chest hair and soft bodies. I was very aware that I was watching actors playing pretend, albeit non-glamorised, like Dunkirk.
I kept watching, waiting for something interesting to happen—a plot line, an intriguing character, anything! And then I realised something wasn’t going to happen.
The main protagonist, Captain Salvatore Todaro (Pier Francesco Favino), is a rugged-looking man with a steely presence and an incongruous penchant for lyrical turns of phrase. And yet, he is oh so dull.
The only different thing that woke me up was a funny sequence where the Belgians teach the Italians how to make chips. With that being my only memorable takeaway from this film, I think it’s clear to say I was not enamoured.
Comandante was made in collaboration with the Italian navy, who Comandante is for, a whimsical love letter to life on the sea perhaps? I felt guilty zoning out, but I can’t pretend to be interested in a film that may have good intentions and most probably has an audience somewhere. It felt like a film for my dad to watch on a quiet Sunday afternoon and probably fall asleep to.
I was very surprised when I read that Comandante opened the Venice Film Festival in 2023 after Challengers, starring Zendaya dropped out. It’s not surprising, I suppose, as Comandante could be sold as a story about Italian pride and their role in the Second World War, therefore making it ideal for the Venice Film Festival.
But there is nothing groundbreaking or emotionally charged about this film. It seriously falls short.
Feared and Revered – The Women of Shakespeare Rating
★★★★★
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‘Feared and Revered—the Women of Shakespeare’ at the Genesian Theatre amalgamates several of Shakespeare’s well-known characters, scenes, and plays with modern backdrops and ideologies. The play, written and directed by Tui Clark, transports its audience to a place where Shakespeare’s women are allowed to have complexities and contradictions all at once, other than the usual good/bad, married/unmarried dichotomies.
The Genesian Theatre itself added to the essence of performance. The beautiful stained-glass windows and intimate size made it easy to become part of the story, especially when actors would situate themselves in or around the audience for entrances or exits.
It was interesting to see how different soliloquies and passages were paired together to create a tapestry of womanhood and femininity of the past and present. I also loved the simplicity of the props and costuming. A tie or a feather boa was enough to symbolise a different character and the location in which these women found themselves together. I especially loved the technical elements that added to the themes of each scene. Layering voices that led into a beautiful delivery of ‘All the World’s a Stage’, from As You Like It to begin the show was a beautiful tie-in with the ‘stages’ of womanhood that followed.
The cast was an incredible collective of women who brought to life 30 women across Shakespeare’s collection of works. It was difficult at times to understand what was being said, but it made it feel more authentic, as a lot of Shakespearean language was completely made up. All audience members were in the same boat when it came to simply listening to the dialogue rather than taking in the context in which it was being said.
Some of the more famous monologues or characters were much easier to spot, but the lesser-known characters or plays had to be viewed in context. It’s important to remember that you’re not supposed to grasp the meaning behind each word spoken immediately, but the way the words are spoken and in which scenes they’re performed in.
Among the talented cast, Liz Grindley stood out with an exceptional stage presence and managed to capture the essence of Cleopatra (among others) in her final moments. The ease with which she moved around the stage and carried each woman in her words and body made it difficult to look away from her, even when she was not speaking.
Charlotte Bromley gave her all to each character, whether the provocative Witch from Macbeth or the hysterical and grieving Ophelia. Bromley captured the audience’s attention and gave them a performance that transcended language.
The closing monologue from Taming of the Shrew, performed by Ali Bendall, was delivered with such reverence and emotion that I had to immediately go and search it up just to read it again. Despite obviously being written by Shakespeare several hundred years ago, Bendall made it her own. In those few moments, I was completely in awe of what was coming out, and you could have told me that she wrote it herself or went off script to say what she was thinking, and I would have believed you.
I recommend grabbing a ticket for yourself and some friends and family to see this beautiful performance before the curtain closes. Even if you don’t know a lot of Shakespeare, these women bring their own elements to the timeless dialogue that draws you in and captivates.
Don’t miss out on these remaining performances – Wednesday, 23rd, and Thursday, 24th October at 7:30pm and Saturday, October 26th, at 2:30pm.
