Bright. Young. Things.

Bright. Young. Things.

Bright. Young. Things. Rating

★★★★★

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Bright Young Things is a coming of age production about several young game show contestants who seek to win the grand prize and be named the country’s brightest. Produced by Sun & Wine Arts Company, this show was written by Georgia Christou and directed by Claire Yorston.

Upon sitting down in the audience, I was immediately drawn to the stage design. There was a table in front of the stage with an actor, soon revealed to be Rochelle’s father, sitting at it looking at a telephone. On stage sat six chairs on upper stage left with five actors seated (the game show contestants). All actors, waited patiently, watching as audience members settled in. This offered an interesting and engaging image that drew me in, along with the red lighting over them.

Despite the lack of space, the actors maintained good blocking throughout the show. It was good to see how the production utilised the space it had. The stage design consisted of the game show space onstage and a green room/Rochelle’s house were in front of the stage at the table. Minimal props such as a telephone, maps and a bowl of potato chips, were used to indicate scene changes, which allowed for smoother transitions.

 

 

All costumes were basic but effective for each character’s personality and development. An example of this was when one of the contestants, Shian, tried on Rochelle’s jacket. Untying her hair and adjusting her outfit was a way to show the character’s personal realisation of her independence and newfound confidence.

Throughout the play there was an effective use of audio effects and music. Including when the phone was ringing, the show theme, and game show buzzers. The lighting was fairly standard and accompanied the scenes well, shifting between white wash and spotlights when necessary, when representing the more intimate character moments.

Some of the highlights that stood out to me included the use of symbolism and dynamics. I reference the symbolism of authority and control displayed throughout, growing and decreasing as the play went on. The role of the corporate bosses were represented initially by two actors. Each scene where they were trying to portray a stronger sense of control, an actor was added to the group, the voices speaking in unison and growing louder and stronger. As it got softer and weaker, actors were removed.

 

 

As the game show progressed, the contestants grew in confidence in themselves, revealing more of the bosses agenda and as well as the potential of who the characters knew they could be.

Another key point of possible symbolism was displayed in Rochelle’s flashback of her mother leaving. Instead of only using the two actors, multiple cast members appeared, echoing words Rochelle had heard her mother say. As Rochelle relived her trauma, the memory acted as a distraction, losing her the place in the final round of the competition. This was an especially interesting portrayal of emotional depth and context for her character, as we had only seen glimpses prior.

All actors performed respectfully well and worked together to tie the production together. Notable moments in particular were during the monologues of the contestants, including Esther and Bernie. Congratulations to all for a fantastic performance.

To book tickets to Bright. Young. Things., please visit https://sunwinearts.wixsite.com/sun-and-wine-arts-co/copy-of-compass.

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Blackrock

Blackrock

Blackrock Rating

★★★★★

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You’ve seen headlines ripped straight from the world of this Nick Enright’s Blackrock. Stories of masculinity in violent crisis. Stories of economic divides pushing apart people who should stand together to support each other. Stories of female rape victims and witnesses being silenced by the communities that claim to protect them. An almost thirty-year-old play that explores issues as malleable and complex as gender, class and sexual violence should not be as relevant today as it was at the time, but it is. The fact that Lunatix Theatre’s production (directed by Grace Mclaughlin and Maddie Richards) resonated as strongly as it did is a credit not just to the writing but to the cast, director and designers involved.

Blackrock takes place in a small beach town of the same name, home to many working-class teenagers and their families. One night, a drunken birthday party ends in the gruesome death of a young girl, as she is found with her head smashed in by a rock after having been raped by three boys. Most of the story examines the fallout of this tragedy, with a young man named Jared (Flecther Von Arx) finding himself torn between loyalty to his ‘mates’; supporting his outraged girlfriend, Rachel (Sabrina Rault), whose brother is implicated in the crime; and coming to terms with his own place in the town.

While Jared is the main character, this play relies heavily on its ensemble cast, and the rapport, skill and energy across the board create scenes that feel greater than the sum of their actors. The dialogue itself feels age-appropriate without being cringey, and the actors bring it to life perfectly. Von Arx’s Jared is vulnerable and sympathetic for all his flaws, Rault’s performance as Rachel creates a strong likeable moral anchor, and Jared’s best friend, Ricko (played by Bailey Griffiths), has some of the most harrowing moments in the show, demonstrating the mundane horror of a mind that warps the rape and murder of a teenage girl into something that “just happened”.

 

 

This isn’t to downplay the rest of the ensemble, who all give amazing performances, especially in their physicality. The banter between the boys feels palpably uneasy even before tragedy strikes, due to the constant but subtle strutting, chest puffing and matey arm touches – casual ‘violence’ that foreshadows the real physical threat almost every male character in the play poses at some point. The actors also aren’t afraid to talk over each other, commit to physically uncomfortable scenes when necessary, and be extremely vulnerable overall. There is a great sense of trust and maturity, which is essential for navigating material this heavy.

The world of Blackrock is fleshed out further through design, with surfboards and wood panelling rightly marking the beach as the centre of the action, and consistent costume changes giving a strong sense of time passing, which is essential to strike home the long-term damage done to this community. There are some beautiful moments where lighting is used to create a sense of place, such as a blue spotlight giving the impression of the edge of a dock by the ocean. The only snag was the reliance on blackouts for major scene transitions, which sometimes killed the energetic pacing set by the cast.

This may be a difficult show for some to engage with. Most of the characters say or do heinous things, and yet we are invited to at least understand even the most warped perspectives. The mechanisms of denial, blame and desensitisation that kick in when people can’t face the truth are put on naked, ugly display. Still, whether you think you can step into Blackrock or not, keep an eye out for Lunatix’s future work. They created an experience that was deeply uncomfortable, deeply sad, and in desperate need of being seen.

To book tickets to Blackrock, please visit https://lunatixtheatre.wixsite.com/lunatixtheatre.

Photographer: Maddie Richards

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The Offering

The Offering

The Offering Rating

★★★★★

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This brilliant play by Borneo/Australian rapper/poet Omar Musa and American classical musician Mariel Roberts Musa combines poetic storytelling with live music to create a riveting theatrical experience. Omar weaves oral histories and personal narratives, and, accompanied by Mariel’s exquisite cello playing, they create a deeply resonant and haunting seafaring story delivered with extraordinary accomplishment.

The Offering tells the story of a protagonist fleeing a country whose ecology has collapsed under the perils of climate change. Deforestation and its associated logging, clearing and burning have culminated in a ‘climate holocaust.’

The protagonist sets sail across a vast plastic ocean littered with debris. The ocean’s surface brims with discarded bottles, fabrics and other plastic horrors in what is a tragic indictment of humankind’s mass-production of all things synthetic. Despairing, he sails toward a mythical volcano where he hopes to find his own destruction amid its fire and ferocity. On his journey, he encounters items in the ocean that are familiar to him, triggering memories of life before the climate holocaust. Upon reaching the volcano, he discovers something much different, hope and the promise of a world free of borders and constraints.

Omar’s performance is powerful and evocative. He engages the audience, who respond with rapt attention. He likens the ocean to an ‘archipelago of memories’ and moved by what he sees, he tells the boyhood memory of his grandparents and their lopsided jungle shack by the river. His body dances with the words and music, seamlessly attuned. He raps, he sings, performs poetry. His hand movements shift from strong to delicately expressive in an instant, which took this reviewer’s breath away.

 

 

Mariel’s cello playing is an emotional kaleidoscope – from bold, to mournful, to raw, to lyrical, she has composed a divine accompaniment to Omar’s spoken word. She becomes so bodily immersed in the piece, it’s like she and her cello become one. At one point, Omar invites the audience to join in some collective breathing. We follow his lead. So does the cello. Its inhalations and exhalations are so authentic, this reviewer found herself in awe at Mariel’s mastery of her instrument.

The Offering successfully intertwines its musical score, oral histories and Omar’s personal narratives in a way that moves the story forward with the sense of urgency it warrants. Contemporary discussion around climate change has never been more important, and The Offering shows us the stark and devastating end reality we, as a planet, are rapidly facing if we refuse to act.

The play looks at memories as a way to effect and recognise change. Lost memories become found in a sea of ecological destruction. Thoughts of earlier and more simple times offer something tangible to hold onto in a world so artificial, so lost, roiling in its own devastation.

The set design reflects and complements the subject matter. It’s a dark stage, interspersed with the blue hues of the ocean; a changing black and white backdrop mirrors and enhances the storyline, and soft lighting transitions beautifully between Omar and Mariel.

The Offering speaks to the audience. And the audience listens.

To book tickets to The Offering, please visit https://riversideparramatta.com.au/whats-on/the-offering/.

Photographer: Phil Erbacher

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Koreaboo: Showing Now At The Belvoir Theatre

Koreaboo

Koreaboo Rating

★★★★★

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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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