Everybody’s talking about ‘grace’. This is how it looks in action

THEATRE
Topdog/Underdog ★★★★★
By Suzan-Lori Parks, MTC, Lawler Studio, extended until September 26

Michelle and Barack Obama spoke of “grace” at the Democratic National Convention last week. The first play by an African-American woman to win the Pulitzer Prize for Drama, Suzan-Lori Parks’ Topdog/Underdog, resonates with both senses of the word in this transfixing MTC production.

Contemporary classic Topdog/Underdog is piercingly intimate and alive.Credit: Sarah Walker

Grace as a value – as kindness or favour bestowed without hope of reward, regardless of the recipient’s deserving – is a vanishing quantity for the impoverished black brothers in the play.

There’s even an absent character called Grace you won’t be able to stop thinking about, but it’s that other grace – the elegance and effortless charisma of the artistry on display – that makes this contemporary classic so piercingly intimate and alive.

Lincoln (Damon Manns) and Booth (Ras-Samuel) were named after the US president who ended slavery and his assassin by their feckless parents, as a joke, before both abandoned them when they were still kids, leaving them to fend for themselves with $500 each as a legacy.

We first see Booth alone in his dilapidated apartment. He’s practising three-card monte, hoping to emulate his elder brother Lincoln’s success as an expert hustler, a card sharp swindling the greedy and the desperate out of their money.

Bert LaBonte’s mainstage directorial debut couldn’t be more impressive.Credit: Sarah Walker

For his part, Lincoln left that world behind after a violent incident, and despite the humiliation, he’s glad of a job playing Abraham Lincoln in whiteface at a local boardwalk, where tourists take potshots at him with fake guns all day. He finds fleeting grace by composing songs in his head.

Not so Booth, a Puck-like fantasist whose only talents seem to be shoplifting and masturbation. He might think of himself as a player, but the deck of race, poverty, gender and class is so stacked against him, the restless young man is unable to win a trick.

Under the extroverted exterior, torment and rage silently consume Booth and, amid fraternal rivalry and an evisceration of the American dream that outclasses another theatre classic, Sam Shepard’s True West, the farce of Booth’s naming might well be repeated as tragedy. As the critic, writer and civil rights activist James Baldwin reminded us: “The most dangerous creation of any society is the man who has nothing to lose.”

Bert LaBonte’s mainstage directorial debut couldn’t be more impressive. Performed on an intimate thrust stage, the production welcomes us in with lively domestic comedy, only to generate an increasingly uncomfortable voyeuristic quality as tensions escalate (these men never stop performing, even in solitude, in a way that’s at once funny and alarming and achingly sad).

The actors – both making their MTC debuts – are revelatory. Manns’ Lincoln is a gentle, if untrustworthy, giant whose occasional lapses into cruelty we feel as unbearably as Booth does. And Ras-Samuel’s charismatic tour de force is such an electric and acutely observed portrait of a young man whose life experience has taught him to hate and fear his own sensitivity that it achieves both comedic adrenaline and genuine tragic catharsis.

You will be confronted – by the deep-seated misogyny the characters exhibit, by the heartbreaking inequity and limited opportunity they themselves face – but you’ll also soar at the tenuous moments of joy they seize in the face of it all.

Charged with the beauty and melancholy of African-American dialect, and the music and rhythm of the streets, Parks’ muscular, profoundly emotionally intelligent writing is an enduring act of grace indeed.
Reviewed by Cameron Woodhead

THEATRE
Frankenstein ★★★
Adapted from Mary Shelley, Shake & Stir, Princess Theatre, until September 1

The energy and ambition of the Brisbane-based Shake & Stir theatre company should be obvious to anyone who saw their adaptations of Roald Dahl – The Twits, say, or James and the Giant Peach – on tour. Vibrant design and visual spectacle are a hallmark of their children’s theatre, and both receive full play in this commercial production of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.

Darcy Brown plays Dr Victor Frankenstein.Credit: Joel Devereux

From an icebound ship trapped in Arctic waters to the monster burning down the remote hut where he first learns to be human, the show pulls out all the stops to create an immersive stage world. It’s a faithful adaptation of an enduring literary and popular classic, and it all comes to life with a jolt of electricity.

Each scene gets transformed by impressive digital projections and lighting and special effects. We rove from the forests and mountains of Switzerland to the dusty bowels of the universities where Dr Frankenstein (Darcy Brown) becomes morbidly obsessed with the secret of life.

Gothic flourishes proliferate. Frankenstein’s creature (Jeremiah Wray), when it arrives, is a piteous, misshapen thing, its torment and confusion portrayed through agonised physical theatre and grotesque prosthetics.

Occasionally, the design can be overdetermined, gilding the lily in a way that militates against dramatic tension and strays into camp. Who needs a fake corpse swinging from a gibbet, say, when the suggestion of a shadowy noose in the background that preceded it was far more unsettling?

Darcy Brown and Chloe Zuel as Elizabeth and Victor Frankenstein.Credit: Joel Devereux.

Frankenstein has been read as everything from a Prometheus-like parable about the birth of modernity to a coded feminist critique of scientific and intellectual endeavour.

There are shades of the latter in this production – the “romance” with Elizabeth (Chloe Zuel) has an emotionally flattened, almost coercive feel to it – and Dr Frankenstein’s symbolic destruction of the feminine – his violent refusal to create a mate for the monster – is one of the show’s signature moments.

Still, this is theatre that concentrates on pure storytelling, its clarity and swiftness sometimes coming at the expense of nuance.

The performances sketch character nimbly enough but struggle to sustain a sense of horror and dread, or to stamp a unique imprint on a tale told and retold in a thousand variations since Shelley’s novel was penned.

If you somehow missed reading the book, Frankenstein is a super-appealing way to get up to speed (but also, read the book).

It’s unlikely to rivet aficionados of Gothic fiction in quite the same way, yet remains dashing entertainment with more than a few spectacular tricks up its sleeve.
Reviewed by Cameron Woodhead

MULTIDISCIPLINARY
The Splendid Anomaly ★★★★★
Ahmarnya Price, Arts House, until August 31

A woman begins leaking fluorescent goo – and not for the first time. At the hospital, she’s put in quarantine for testing. She calls her mother and receives a series of unsolicited lectures on cosmology and evolution. Meanwhile, outside the hospital, the world is coming to a fiery end.

Ahmarnya Price in a scene from The Splendid Anomaly.Credit: Sarah Walker

Ahmarnya Price’s The Splendid Anomaly is a tightly constructed solo performance lampooning a medicalised culture that can still seem obsessed with defining the boundaries between the normal and the pathological, the healthy and the abnormal.

It’s an exceptional piece of monologue theatre, with surprising special effects and a series of enchanting animations drawn by Price and projected across the stage. It also features a script with more polish than a speculum and more satirical bite than a bone saw.

Price weaves multiple thematic elements – from climate change to disability activism – into a compact dramaturgical vision of hope; there’s something wondrous about this laconic tale where bad things happen, but the sentiment remains bright.

Price is a visual artist who is now exploring the marginal spaces where exhibition becomes performance. Here, she is joined by a team of award-winning theatre veterans including director Susie Dee, composer Kelly Ryall and lighting designer Richard Vabre.

She also performs some hilarious moves choreographed by Michelle Heaven, an artist with a wonderfully wry feeling for the comic potential of contemporary dance. It would be unfair to give too many details away but the Eurodance classic Ride on Time features prominently.

The Splendid Anomaly is a sort of autological theatre because the name exactly describes the show: it’s not what you expect. This is an unclassifiable gem that moves thrillingly between performance art, live art and multimedia theatre.

There’s humour, compassion and delicate moments of personal testimony – a mind-expanding concoction where panic mingles with elation and old certainties turn to open questions.
Reviewed by Andrew Fuhrmann

IN CONVERSATION
Roxane Gay: Opinions
The Wheeler Centre, Melbourne Town Hall, August 27

If the sprawling line around the town hall corner and halfway down Collins Street was any indication, Roxane Gay has plenty of Australian fans. And at her live event, the Omaha-born writer treated each of them to an intimate glimpse into her mind, thoughts and feelings.

Roxane Gay in conversation with Jan Fran at Melbourne Town Hall, August 27, 2024.Credit: ©Martin Philbey

Led by journalist and presenter Jan Fran, the hour-long session to promote Gay’s new book, Opinions, did not lack in authenticity. Despite being in a room of 2000, the writer’s demeanour drew people in. Sat comfortably opposite Fran, she was unashamedly open about her experiences with often taboo topics like mental health, body image, political views and familial relationships.

One particularly raw anecdote saw the writer explain how she recently bought a gun to protect herself from a serial stalker. The decision highlighted long-running systemic issues with the American police system, in a personal way that was devoid of cliches. The audience could only vaguely imagine this line of thinking. They’ve probably never seen a gun, let alone considered buying one.

Never condescending or arrogant, attendees couldn’t help but warm to the American writer. And they were with her every step of the way – laughing at jokes, listening to experiences and clapping wholeheartedly with ideas that called for support.

Gay didn’t shy away from political topics. She presented acute observations about the racial tensions she had experienced during her time in Australia. For most Melburnians, her surprise about the failed Voice referendum of 2023 or the lack of diversity within leadership roles are thoughts they’ve grappled with countless times before.

Showcasing the author’s range, discussions of international relations were complemented by analysis of pop culture.Credit: ©Martin Philbey

The writer gave her strong support to Palestine, critiquing the recent Democratic National Convention for missing an opportunity to champion a Palestinian voice – comments which were met with claps and cheers from the Melbourne crowd. But apart from that, Gay said that in her view Kamala Harris is rising to the occasion and that the Democratic Party have made the right decision in their endorsement.

Showcasing the author’s range, discussions of international relations was complemented by analysis of pop culture. Gay and Fran talked about Blake Lively (why does gossip always pile on women?) and about J-Lo and Ben Affleck’s break-up (she wishes they could have worked it out) in a way that felt like overhearing two people chatting at the pub on a Saturday. Walking out of the venue onto the Melbourne street, you felt as if you’d gained a new friend. Because, like each attendee, Roxane Gay is a human being – and was remarkably unafraid to act like one.
Reviewed by Gemma Grant

MUSIC
Belle and Sebastian ★★★★
Palais Theatre, August 23

To attend a Belle and Sebastian concert is to go back in time. It’s the late ’90s or early 2000s, and searching bookstores and libraries for something to love, you spot a pleasant-looking album and take it home. You pop it into the CD player and let the warmth spill out, that striped sunlight sound painting colour into your monochrome life.

Belle and Sebastian are led by Stuart Murdoch.Credit: Richard Clifford

The Scottish band’s earnest, bookish indie pop, often labelled twee with either affection or derision, captures a time and place. It’s evident from their Melbourne audience, all stripes, berets and cardigans. But life has happened, too: many have their kids in tow, hoping to pass the magic on.

Together for almost three decades, Belle and Sebastian are one of the great indie legacy acts: they’re still releasing music, but certain albums will always define both them and their fans.

Belle and Sebastian perform at The Palais, August 23, 2024. Credit: Richard Clifford

It’s a blessing and a curse, but so is growing up. The precious naivete of some of the group’s earliest songs is lost in their polished performances now, but the joy remains palpable. Blooming to a nine-piece live, including a couple of local musicians, the band – led by the affable, chatty Stuart Murdoch – is a well-oiled machine, with splashes of occasional chaos. Unlike many touring bands, they don’t have a standard set list – each night is different and anything could happen.

On this night, the sound mix is muddled and drowns out some of the band’s intricacies – their setup includes winds, brass, strings and vocal harmonies. Newer songs such as So In the Moment and Reclaim the Night (sung by the endearingly shambolic Stevie Jackson and sweet-voiced Sarah Martin, respectively) are bombastic, as are mostly unnecessary background projections.

It’s nice enough, but the audience is largely seated and passive until one of those classic songs, Get Me Away From Here, I’m Dying, has everyone on their feet at once.

From there it picks up, with all the old hallmarks: the band inviting crowd members onto the stage to dance to The Boy with the Arab Strap, Murdoch prancing down the aisles during Stay Loose. Rearrangements of decades-old songs make them feel fresh – the acoustic Piazza, New York Catcher gets a lush makeover, and Sleep the Clock Around, subtle on record, receives a jolt of electric energy. It feels both old and new, like opening a dusty book you forgot you’d written your name in and remembering what was there the whole time.
Reviewed by Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen

MUSIC
ANAM Orchestra with Brett Dean and Stefanie Farrands ★★★★
Australian National Academy of Music, St Kilda Town Hall, August 24

What do you get when you mix two violists with two forward-thinking composers? No, this is not the beginning of another crass joke about the viola, which in times past was regarded as the orchestra’s Cinderella.

In fact, the recent collaboration of Australian violists Brett Dean and Stefanie Farrands in a program of works by Dean (also one of our country’s foremost composers) and Hector Berlioz made for engrossing listening. The experience was further enlivened by the energy generated by Dean’s week-long mentorship of the talented students of the Australian National Academy of Music (ANAM).

Brett Dean in rehearsal with ANAM. Credit: Charlie Kinross

Plunging headlong into Dean’s often complex sound world, ANAM’s sizeable string band gave the Australian premiere of his 2016 triptych Music of Memory, which pays tribute to lost friends and colleagues. Drawing out the subtleties of string timbre and texture, Dean evoked the different personalities of his subjects, most notably the British conductor Richard Hickox in the monumental, elegiac finale.

Written during a COVID lockdown in 2021, Dean’s Imaginary Ballet is scored for piano quartet.

Moving from the conductor’s podium to take up his viola, Dean was joined by violinist Harry Egerton, cellist Jack Overall and pianist Ronan Apcar in a convincing account of this technically challenging work.

Stefanie Farrands and Brett Dean ahead of their performance with ANAM. Credit: Charlie Kinross

In nine short movements, the music pits frenetic dance-like energy against elements of profoundly sad stasis. Bass strings of the piano, either plucked or struck with mallets, ominously tinged the more reflective episodes.

Farrands, ANAM alumna and now principal viola of the Australian Chamber Orchestra, brought supple style and grace to Berlioz’ Harold in Italy for viola and orchestra conducted by Dean, her former ANAM mentor. Presenting four scenes loosely based on Byron’s epic poem Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, the score pits a large orchestra against the delicate ruminations of the soloist.

At times projecting more enthusiasm than exactitude, the ANAM orchestra was not helped by the booming acoustics of the St Kilda Town Hall or the seating of the wind and brass above the strings. These issues worked against some fine-tuning of intonation and ensemble but did not stand in the way of a rollicking good time.

The ebullient mood was sustained by an encore: Stravinsky’s early arrangement of Chopin’s Grande valse brillante in E-flat major, which served up equal measures of fun and fussiness.

This optimistic viola-led odyssey confirmed that the hope and promise of Australia’s upcoming classical musicians is no joke.
Reviewed by Tony Way

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