Hydra - Review of State Theatre Company Production

 (I'm posting this retrospective review as a companion piece to the review of Cohen-Noir below.)

(Image by Jess Busby.)

Dunstan Playhouse, Adelaide Festival Centre, Sat 4 May, 2019

The Greek island of Hydra has long been known as a haven for international artists. Principal among them was Leonard Cohen, who met and fell in love with the woman he sang about on his debut album – So Long Marianne. Among the international artist community in post-war Hydra were Australian writers George Johnston (Bryan Probets) and Charmian Clift (Anna McGahan). They’d come to Hydra to follow their muse and escape the mundanities of Australian suburbs. Within their Hydra circle of friends was the then struggling artist, Sidney Nolan. Also included in their inner bohemian circle was Jean-Claude, a stereotypical French painter played by Kevin Spink.

So far so good. They were heady times and everyone was optimistic about their ability to carve out their niche in the Australian artistic psyche. Fuelled by copious amounts of alcohol and a prodigious work ethic they pump out the pages. However, George soon starts cramping his partner’s creative style and a series of rejections from publishers ushers in poverty and hardship. The struggling artist is no longer a romantic dream but a harsh reality. And George doesn’t cope with it very well. Severe illness doesn’t help and he becomes more and more unpleasant. Charmian on the other hand holds their lives together and keeps food on the table for them and their growing family, but she understandably turns elsewhere for affection.

The theme of artists struggling to make sense of their existence while being mired in substance abuse is not new. What should make Hydra more appealing for Australian audiences is the fact that it concerns Australian expatriates living abroad in an exotic paradise, and that perhaps the tyranny of distance in reverse might provide them with some insight into the Australian psyche and culture. But the fact that they were living on Hydra doesn’t detract from the fact they George and Charmian weren’t very nice people. You don’t get a sense that Hydra meant very much to them at all – they enjoyed ‘the idea’ of being there but they actually don’t seem to enjoy anything very much.

But then maybe that’s Hydra’s point. The artist or writer dreams of the idyllic location that will enable their muse to soar but, in the end, self-indulgence and a cantankerous nature will grind the muse into nothingness.

The set looked alluringly and wonderfully Greek and allowed for some intriguing use of light and shadow that often suggested alter egos or alternative opinions. As must be the case on a Greek island the metaphor of the sea was exploited artfully, and having the first born of George and Charmian on stage throughout as our narrator worked well. De rigueur references to Greek mythology added a supernatural layer that offered alternative explanations as to why so many run adrift amid Hydra’s beauty.

Bryan Probets as George was superb, and I enjoyed Tiffany Lyndall-Knight in the role of the would-be friend who dared tell the truth about the writers’ indulgent expatriate lifestyles.

Yes it was a sweeping tale that promised much, but you’re left with this lingering feeling that the protagonists were deeply flawed, and didn’t deserve to be in such a beautiful place. Had they been holed up in some dive in Paddington or Brunswick the outcome would have been much the same. The fact they were in Hydra didn’t seem that relevant, unless of course there is some truth in what Greek mythology tells us about this exotic isle.

(This review also published on The Clothesline.)

Monsieur Camembert – Cohen Noir

Dunstan Playhouse
Sat 20 June, 2026

Like many others my younger self found Leonard Cohen’s early music rather dirge-like. I had a friend who bought a Cohen album but needed to wait till he was in a fit mental state before he could listen to it. Cohen used to laugh at comments describing his songs as ‘music to slash your wrists by’ and thought some people failed to see the distinction between seriousness and depression. Cohen knew about subtlety and nuance. As do the members of Monsieur Camembert in this magnificent tribute to Cohen’s life and work.

Monsieur Camembert are a ten-piece gypsy jazz band from Sydney that have re-arranged a collection of Cohen classics and label the whole project as Cohen Noir, so bleak is in there for those who go looking. But on the whole this concert was an uplifting celebration of a hugely important artist. It was all about the soul – finding that place in each of us where the songs touch you most deeply. Where the music, the words, and the emotion all come together and resonate deep inside you. I had heard reports before of multiple people weeping at Cohen concerts, and though Leonard himself has left the table, he was there tonight in these loving renditions of his songs and poetry. And I cried. These beautiful songs that reflect on life in all its complexity and wonder, its sadness and joy, of birth and death and the genuine search for truth amid failure and despair.  And the band’s musical arrangements allowed all this to happen.

The band’s respect and admiration for Cohen’s work was evident in everything they did – yes subtle, nuanced. Delicate. But often also upbeat and brassy.  A series of guest vocalists added variety and surprise but it turned out that the star of the show was sitting in the back row playing  violin. When Susie Bishop stepped forward to deliver the vocal on Famous Blue Raincoat the world just stopped. She lived and breathed that song as her own with oozing passion and superb control before a soul-stirring sax solo just blasted the whole song into another realm. Extraordinary music.

Another of the guest vocalists, Lyn Bowtell, did something similar with the achingly beautiful If It Be Your Will, a haunting insight into Cohen the spiritual seeker, before the song was launched into heavenly realms with the help of the 50-strong Adelaide based choir, Born on Monday.

Before each song we heard recorded excerpts of Cohen’s lyrics, writings, or interviews that provided sage-like clues about the song to follow, offering beads of wisdom about how to lead a successful, mindful life. For example, Cohen’s reasoning behind Halleluja was to remind us that to celebrate each moment of your existence is one of the few things you can control and that you can actually be certain of. So, 600 people willingly sang Halleluja together.

Given my first impressions of Cohen’s music some fifty years earlier I never imagined that I’d be joining in a joyous en masse singalong of his music but that we did on Halleluja, So Long Marianne, and Dance Me to the End of Love.

Toward show’s end we heard words from Cohen’s final press conference. He humbly referred to himself as a disciplined craftsmen who used the meagre tools he had at his disposal – his guitar, his voice, and his language – and worked them as hard as he could. Anthem (“there are cracks in everything – that’s where the light gets in”) took us out, and the spirit of Leonard Cohen was appropriately accompanied on its way by ethereal Mongolian throat singing.

Cohen died on November 7th, 2016, Donald Trump was first elected president one day later. That felt hugely appropriate at the time. It was almost as if the spirit of Leonard Cohen could not co-exist on this earth with someone who was his polar opposite.

Cohen was not religious, but he was intensely spiritual, and that spirit lives on in the music of Monsieur Camembert. They have captured and expressed his quest for the meaning of existence with love and exquisite musical arrangements.

If Dylan was the poet who spoke for the incipient Boomer generation, then Cohen may have the equivalent role for their end. And the continuum from Dylan’s first words to Cohen’s last may well represent the cultural journey that generation has taken.

This review also published on The Clothesline.