REVIEW: A Streetcar Named Desire and the End of The Bakehouse Theatre

Bakehouse Theatre, Fri 29 Apr, 2022.

A Streetcar Named Desire had a huge impact when first performed in the late 1940s due to its no-holds barred revelation of sexual mores of the time and American society’s treatment of women. The sexual undercurrents running through the play are pretty lame and inoffensive by contemporary standards, but sadly the issue of domestic violence against women is just as prevalent as it was back then. It was shocking then and it is shocking now – some men continue to parade around as the king of their households and use the threat of potential or actual violence to get their way.

According to Stanley, he and Stella were quite happy until her sister Blanche arrived and started rocking the boat with her judgemental ways and fake upper class pretensions. Blanche considers Stanley to be sub-human and implores her sister to leave him. Stanley does a little digging into Blanche’s sordid past and decides he can indeed be sub-human with her and take her whenever he wants. Her looser moral code in relations with men means she forfeits all rights to personal safety if men like Stanley decide to have his way with her.

This was a wonderful choice as the Bakehouse Theatre’s swansong. It has reliably maintained a high level of quality theatre for decades and sadly concludes on this very high note. The cast was uniformly exceptional, but one must give special credit for Melanie Munt’s performance as Blanche. It’s a demanding role that requires dignity and madness, superiority and frailty, feigned upper class elegance and down-in the gutter trash talking and she does them all with total conviction. Paul Westbrooks’ Al Pacino-type looks aids his swagger and boorish male bravado as he struts around the house showing off his physique, while occasionally allowing a softer side to embrace his Stella. But he’s a ticking time bomb whose masculinity should never be challenged. Marc Clement as Mitch represents a softer more sentient side of men and is charmingly played but he, too, quickly reverts back to the male stereotype when confronted with the truth about Blanche.

An ironic and fitting cameo has our Bakehouse hosts join the final scene to take Blanche away to some dreadful place where she and her kind will be hidden from society.

This was a great final act from The Bakehouse – all class to the end. Thank you, Bakehouse Theatre, for providing hundreds of hours of wonderful entertainment and offering thousands of Adelaide people the joy of live theatre from both sides of the curtain. You’ll be sadly missed. Vale old friend.

(This review also published on The Clothesline.)

Song #79 Grandfather

 

CC image from James Stringer

GRANDFATHER

Listen 

Grey rocks on green grass – a long long time ago

You walked the misty coastline – on a lonely distant shore

‘Twixt home and school and church yard – you felt the sea’s soft spray

On lonely Eriskay

 

Your children growing older – you think of far away

Did you ever think Australia - as you gazed out on the sea?

Could we leave this lonely isle – this land so far away?

Our windswept Eriskay

 

Grandfather – you never knew my name

Grandfather – you died before I came

 

In the church upon the hillside – you sit silently in prayer

The wind was blowing stronger – you knew you had to go

Tears of salt roll down your face – you must leave your island home

Farewell dear Eriskay

 

Grandfather – we never shared a dawn

Grandfather – you died before I came

Is there a part of you I might find in Eriskay?

Is there a part of you - is there a part of you in me

To take back to Eriskay?

Commentary

I have long been fascinated by the story of my paternal grandparents who lived on Eriskay in the early part of the 20th century and then migrated to an equally remote place in rural South Australia. My paternal grandfather died before I was born. There is no recording of this song yet but it will come .....here tis: Listen here

Gunther Stopa

 

"Gunther was like a bottomless pit of empathy." (Damien Coghlan)

I guess I knew I'd never see Gunther again. I had often suggested getting together in these last few years and he’d always say ‘yes we must catch up soon’ but it never happened. In the end I stopped asking – I had the feeling that he was still quite self-conscious of how he looked and sounded after his last round of surgery. But happily I did bump into him on Semaphore Rd once a couple of years ago and had a lovely chat with him and Gail.  It was the last time we saw each other. But he always wished me well for upcoming gigs, and never failed to pass on birthday greetings. He also posted wonderful links to live music on social media. Whatever the genre – classical, jazz, folk, rock, country – you could be assured it was first class and worth listening to. His last music post to Facebook was about a performance by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band with Alison Krauss just two days before he left us.

So though I was no longer seeing my old friend I always felt he was there in my life somewhere. And now that he’s not there I’m quite taken aback by this feeling of immense sadness as I realise he’s gone. I knew I loved the man, but only now do I appreciate just how much I appreciated having him in my world.

I met Gunther at Marymount College and over the following five years learned to love his calm warmth. There was a stillness about him that was very comforting. We played bridge together at recess and lunch time most days over those 5 years – both of us preferred to retreat into the ritual of a card game rather than talk. Gunther in fact rarely talked. We marvelled at how this oh so peaceful man who rarely spoke could manage to teach a classroom full of rowdy 11 to 14 year-olds. But he did. And students loved him. He spoke gently and quietly and they shut up, listened and proceeded to create works of wonderful art. Students loved his art classes. He managed to get through to those kids in a way that no one else on staff could – with a gentle dignity and grace that kids respected.

One evening on a school camp the students had sort of gone to bed and it was time for some teachers’ adult time. Gunther and I both had our guitars. We had never played together but I decided to sing a song about a painter called Patrick. Some way though the song Gunther had learned the chorus well enough to join in and I heard this deep resonant vocal come in under my melody and it quite disarmed me. It was just beautiful.

Rich, warm and resonant, it just gave the song a solid base that allowed it to fly. And it occurs to me now that maybe that’s what it was about Gunther; why we all loved him. He provided a place of comfort and warmth without judgement in which we could just be ourselves. He was always supportive and encouraging. And yet often silent, and always quiet. As another teacher from those days at Marymount recently wrote, Gunther saw us all as better than we really were. He allowed us to believe that we were OK; that life was good and there was opportunity ahead.

Deep, warm, resonant – these words keep coming to mind as I contemplate the man he was – at least as I saw him. It’s also tempting to see his quiet calm as something akin to wisdom but he’d hate that. But I do know that I’ve never known anyone quite like Gunther Stopa – his deep warmth and calm was highly unusual and it was beautiful to be around.

Goodbye my dear Gunther. You were my colleague, an erstwhile singing partner, a painter, a place of refuge and above all a very dear friend. It’s a cliché to say life won’t be the same without you, but there really isn’t anyone else in my world that is anything like you.  I was fortunate to share a lot of life with you, and I will dwell for a long time on what it was about you that made me feel so good to be in your company. But it starts with warmth ….

The Picture of Dorian Gray - Review

 

Her Majesty’s Theatre, Mon 14 Mar.

The Picture Of Dorian Gray was my introduction to the world of literature and social commentary of Oscar Wilde. Originally published in 1890, it made an indelible impression on my young soul and I was excited to see how this adaptation by Kip Williams would work for the stage. The essential idea of Dorian Gray is that he is forever young and that he only ages in a portrait of him created by his artist friend Basil. This sense of eternal youth gives Dorian the freedom to follow his every hedonistic, immoral fancy. But in a message for both old and young there are grave consequences.

This production by the Sydney Theatre Company is simply superb. The ease with which Eryn Jean Norvill handles the multiple roles of Dorian, Basil, Lord Henry, various household staff, and several other characters is incredibly impressive. She steps in and out of these roles throughout with frequent costume and scene changes in a rapid and constantly moving parade.

On the staging side this production is a technical tour de force. I doubt whether many in the audience would have seen anything quite like this. I certainly haven’t. The use of multimedia and live video has been creeping into theatre for some years but when bigger budgets allow bigger crews on big stages to work in tandem with people with big ideas this is what can be achieved.

The opening scenes of Basil talking to Lord Henry take place at the very back of the stage and are filmed live. For most of the audience the scene is best viewed on a large screen hanging from the front of the stage, though those towards the front could view the live scene if they chose. This is often the case throughout – many scenes are both recorded live and beamed on to large screens.

On other occasions Norvill (as Dorian) is talking live to Lord Henry but Lord Henry’s contribution to the conversation has been pre-recorded and Norvill is conversing with a recording of his part of the dialogue. This device is often employed and should, you would think, seem strange and stilted. But it is seamless, barely noticeable. On multiple occasions Norvill is relating to other characters speaking pre-recorded versions of conversations that she has also recorded so she is effectively talking to herself. Not to mention the fact that so much of her performance here is talking to camera, not to another person or character, and yet must appear as if she is in deep connection with another character. Like combining the skills of live theatre with acting for screen I guess and it is simply brilliant.

In a chilling conclusion that sadly has acute relevance for the narcissistic trend permeating contemporary Western culture, Dorian Gray ultimately pays a heavy price. This play is full of the wit, wisdom and eloquence characteristic of all Oscar Wilde’s work. You will wait a long time to see an individual performance as good as Norvill offers here, and the technical wizardry achieved by a team of black-clad ghostly wraiths floating in and out of view is initially a little distracting but becomes strangely and appropriately symbolic of a hidden world that only Dorian knew.

This is a show that you could definitely see a second or even a third time. Sometimes five stars are just not enough!

5+ stars 

(This review also published on The Clothesline.)

WOMADelaide 2022 - Day 2 Review

(banner created by Ian Bell)

Botanic Park, Sat 12 Mar.

I decided to skip the yoga sessions and went straight to the Foundation Stage for Sorong Samurai. Musicians from PNG and West Papua (still under the control of Indonesia) launched with soft flutes and fast drumming. The West Papuan flag waved gracefully in the wind as calls for their independence echoed from the stage. Tribal headdresses and make-up were on display as the band pumped out rhythms built around drums and bass peppered occasionally with reggae.

At the other end of the park Sydney’s Crooked Fiddle Band tuned up to the sound of bats chirping on Stage 7. (It really should be renamed to ‘The Bat Stage’; The University of Adelaide now hosts an adjacent Bat Tent to educate festival goers about these WOMAD regulars.) A slow moody fiddle tune to begin with was soft enough to still have bats as part of the chorus. Despite what the band name might suggest there is just one fiddle player in The Crooked Fiddle Band and she interestingly carries a number of bows in a bag slung across her shoulder in medieval archer style. One of these bows was so supple that it actually bent as it was moved across the strings. They certainly offered a mixed menu. Part folk, forays into reggae, traditional Macedonian, and extended grooves that were more Funk than fiddle. Ever seen a melody picked on a double bass? It sounded great. As with many of the performers it was obvious they were enjoying playing in a post COVID world – today was their first festival in over two years. They commented that they didn’t believe they would be playing until they were actually on stage with their instruments!!

The Balkan Ethno Orchestra had the dubious pleasure of fronting the very warm afternoon sun on Stage 2, but they did a fantastic job. Five women vocalists resplendent in black stood across the stage and delivered a beautiful set of songs based around complex harmonies from Eastern European musical traditions. Supported by drums, percussion, guitars and balalaika their material ranged from faster dance pieces to slow emphatic rhythms, from contemporary to distant past. The more ancient songs had a polyphonic quality that one can often hear in vocal arrangements from early European music. One piece was reminiscent of Steeleye Span’s Gaudete and probably dates from around that same time. A lovely set that was in turn lively, plaintive and energetic.

The inability to include many international performers this year meant the inclusion of many Australian based acts we wouldn’t otherwise hear. That was a mixed blessing but I really enjoyed Australian artists coming out of lockdown and sharing what they’d been practising. Bush Gothic – now that’s a strange concept – has a mission of bringing women’s stories in old Australian folk songs into modern contexts. And they largely succeed with this admirable aim. Double bass and drums are the bedrock of their sound, supplemented with piano or fiddle. Arrangements were often a bit weird, but I still found them strangely alluring. Their songs uniformly have a lovely feel even if occasionally a little dark and sombre. Some pieces sounded like they were originally sung unaccompanied (and we all know how dirge-like they can sound!) Many of these songs would make great comparison studies – hear the song in its original form, and then in this new modern arrangement and think about what the changes do to the song; it strikes me as a great way for music students to examine what they’re doing and why. It was a bit onerous at times but I really like what they’re trying to do – old concepts with new rules.

ZOJ had a small crowd for their show on the Moreton Bay Stage. Consisting of Persian poems sung to electronic loops and live percussion, ZOJ produce dreamy sounds that are spacey and contemplative. Interestingly other Iranian performers from the Eishan Ensemble all listened to this performance lying down. Quite beautiful.

IS THE PANDEMIC OVER?

That’s how it seemed once the Melbourne Ska Orchestra arrived. Drifting on to the stage in chaotic higgledy-piggledy fashion while playing their catchy opening tune bumping into each other, falling over, and other general messiness until they all find their right place and then BOOM – they’re off! With the irrepressible Nicky Bomba assuming command the mood of the day just changed in a heartbeat. So many people just started smiling, people of all shapes and sizes started dancing and moving towards the Foundation Stage. It was a moment of pure joy. And it really did feel like someone had just announced that the pandemic was officially over. Such a wonderful band – great sounds of ska, reggae and Latin beats, a brass section that really swings (literally!) and a group of people who so obviously love what they do. This goes into the WOMADelaide history books as a magic performance.

Another lockdown project was unveiled back on the Moreton Bay Stage. Well known Australian slide guitar player Jeff Lang and partner shared their recent musical project. Some songs were quite a departure in style for Lang and as fine as they were I was happiest hearing those great blues and boogie riffs that he’s best known for.

If you wanted further evidence that at least people here at WOMADelaide figured the pandemic was over you only had to go over to Stage Two and watch a crowd crammed together at the front of the stage to sway and groove to the electronic wizardry of Motez. It’s an interesting time we live in where one person can occupy a huge stage pressing buttons and flicking switches that unleash a cosmic world of light and sound that not so long ago would have required an entire band. I resisted the hypnotic urge to go closer – I wasn’t quite convinced that the pandemic was over. People were too close for comfort after two years of social distancing and there wasn’t a mask in sight.

But it was so good to see people dancing again. The unfettered joy of people moving their bodies to the music they love after a two year hiatus was a joy to behold. The D in WOMAD after all stands for DANCE!

(This article also published in The Clothesline.)

WOMADELAIDE TURNS 30!

(image created by Ian Bell)

Botanic Park, Fri 11 Mar.

WOMADelaide is back to normal: multiple stages, the village, market stalls, the Woshop, the Kidzone, tables and chairs placed out beneath the trees all over the park, the Angus Watt flags. It’s WOMADelaide’s 30th birthday!! There are some changes too – more stages, more tables and chairs – it feels incredibly spacious and very COVID friendly. But sadly, it seems the Holy Cow coffee tent has been retired.

The gates are open earlier this year to allow people to saunter in at their leisure and not have to suffer long socially distant queues. As I sit and watch the crowd slowly filter in I reflect on my personal highlights of this extraordinary event.

I will never forget one of my earlier memories of WOMADelaide: a tall African man with a full-length blue robe playing the kora (an instrument I’d never heard of) on the Moreton Bay stage. I was mesmerised and instantly felt the privilege it was to be there

At my first WOMADelaide a friend recommended I see this Russian quartet, Terem, playing Russian folk music – not something I would normally bother to see. Their musical virtuosity was astounding, their humour infectious, and I had another moment of feeling I had arrived at something very special.

I didn’t get to the original WOMADelaide in 1992. Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan was at that original event but I caught him some years later on his second visit and was taken to musical heaven by the extraordinary combination of chanting, singing, and percussion. I fell in love with Qawwali music then and there – and the passion has not waned.

I don’t know if I could have even told you where Madagascar was before I saw the Justin Vali Trio. Their joyous rhythmic melodies bounced off the kora and out into the park. It was some of the happiest sounding music I’d ever heard.

From closer to home New Zealand’s Dave Dobbyn came one year and his humble style and exquisite melodies showed his skills as a songwriter went way beyond Slice Of Heaven.

I had never heard Midnight Oil live. The year they were here I was wandering over towards Stage 1 as it was then called and you could almost feel the power in your body as it boomed out across the crowd. This is magnetic, pulse-driven primal rock.

In complete contrast my first awareness of Gurrumul was hearing bewitching birdlike vocal sounds wafting through the trees calling me to wherever it was coming from. He was a backup singer in The Saltwater Band back them. Years later he returned as a headline act and thousands of people sat in silence in front of the main stage and listened to the voice of ancient Australia. One of the most moving experiences you can imagine.

Late one night the legendary Jimmy Cliff and band bopped their reggae tunes out into the night in the rain and no one cared.

One of the selfish joys of WOMADelaide is seeing how foreign performers are seduced by the beauty of the place they’re playing in. A member of a Scottish band one year stopped between songs shook his head and said, “You’ve no idea how amazing this is – we don’t do outside in Scotland!”

The sweet melodies of Algeria’s Saoud Massi, the urgent desert-driven rhythms of Tinariwen, the ancient vocal sounds of The Sardinian Tenors, the foot-tapping bonanza that was America’s Pokey La Farge, the beauty and grace of the Gambia’s Sona Jobarteh, the surprising Celtic harmonies Ireland’s Alan Kelly extracts from his accordion …. I could go on. Some huge names are missing from this list. We will all have our own highlights. Each year offers the anticipation and joy of discovering something new as you hope to find an act or two you can add to your own personal highlights reel of WOMADelaide magic. And it rarely disappoints.

It’s time to start the 30th birthday party. The Kaurna welcome to county is about to begin

(This article also published on The Clothesline.)

Tom Waits for No One - Review

 

The Garage International @ Adelaide Town Hall, Sat 5 Mar.

Tom Waits’ trademarks were a rasping vocal style from somewhere deep down in the bowels of the soul, semi-spoken rambling narratives put to music detailing the life of the down and out, a close to the edge desperation that you felt could break at any moment, and an uncanny ability to cram these earthy guttural outpourings into an exquisite melody. On top of that every sinew in his body would ooze emotion in an artistry that was mesmerising. So any attempt to cover Tom Waits songs is a huge gamble!

Wisely Stewart D’Arrietta doesn’t try to be Tom Waits although he does a little character acting in the patter and jokes between songs. D’Arrietta on piano, supported by double bass and drums, did a fine job of presenting material from the Waits catalogue and got better and better as he went. Singing in any way that approximates Waits’ growling vocal style can’t be good for you and it was as if he needed to warm up before he felt totally comfortable.  He worked his way through many classics – the autobiographical Kentucky Avenue, the poignant Christmas Card From A Hooker In Minneapolis, the beautifully tender Martha, the rocky Goin’ Out West, and what he flagged as one of the best songs ever written, An Invitation To The Blues.

D’Arrietta broke character before the final song to take a pot shot at political correctness and mourn the passing of Shane Warne and offered up the gut-wrenching Waits version of Waltzing Matilda as a tribute to a larrikin. It was a sad, beautiful final few moments that was totally appropriate. You see Tom Waits could do that – he could break your heart as you listened, and Stewart D’Arietta took us out in that same fine tradition.

(This review also published in The Clothesline.)