A swaggering hero with something to prove and an aloof maiden for the winning are good, solid elements of a ballad, and as 'The Ballad of Leila and Lee', Yellow Moon has these down in it's 17-year-old 'Stag' Lee (John Shrimpton) and Silent Leila (Layla Estasy). There's adventure and romance and obstacles to overcome, there are repeated refrains, there's a fairly loose representation of time, and there's a focus on storytelling that sees the actions reimagined rather than taking place. The four actors shift between describing and performing the characters, both retrospectively, and they get to intervene, to depict a scene and then, effectively, take it back. "But of course that's not what happened,” the audience hears after some of the scenes where the characters seem to be making the most progress, until, finally, a “that's exactly how it was.” It's self-conscious and melodramatic, but then, people are. Especially teenagers. The love story, filtered through Leila's self-harming fixation with tabloid glamour and Lee's awkward sexual bravado, holds together an episodic plot based around horribly bad choices and timing, through a world whose adult inhabitants (played by Danielle Cormack and Kenneth Moraleda in several roles each) aren't doing much to help them. The alternations between lyrical, choreographed passages of exposition and fairly straight-up depictions of key events and conversations can be a little jarring, and there wasn't much tension to the suspense, but the performances were credible and engaging and the play managed to tell a story and explore characters and experiment with form, which is really quite a lot to do.
Going the Distance may not exactly rock the conventions of the rom-com, but it is a refreshingly vibrant addition to the genre. So while the meet-cute, montages and requisite emotional rollercoaster (or are dodgem cars a better metaphor?) follow a route as familiar as the one our couple criss-cross between New York and San Francisco, the saving grace is chemistry. It can't necessarily have been a given that real life on-and-off again couple Drew Barrymore and Justin Long would be able to spice up the silver screen, and yet admirably and oftentimes hilariously, they manage to do so. Playing [insert your suitably yuppie professions here], Erin and Garrett share a delightfully drunken one-night stand before agreeing to casually keep seeing each other for Erin's final six weeks in the Big Apple. No points for guessing what happens next, but here's where credit must go to debut screenwriter Geoff LaTulippe and especially director Nanette Burstein (American Teen), for keeping up the pace and mixing the many phone montages with a solid supporting cast. Christina Applegate is a great addition as Erin's protective sister Corinne. The character may be derivative of Leslie Mann's turn in Knocked Up, yet she and Barrymore share some of the film's funniest scenes, filled with raunchy girl talk. In fact, one of the most delightful aspects of Going the Distance is the (all too rare) eclectic array of blue, silly, witty comedy the script gives the women to bash around. As Burstein's first foray into feature filmmaking, Going the Distance benefits from her documentary background. Bearing a light touch and a fine ability to juggle an ensemble, she has succeeded in injecting new vigour into an increasingly desperate genre. And regardless of whether or not Barrymore and Long make it off-screen, their youthful frivolity and rapid-fire repartee are skilfully wedded together on film. https://youtube.com/watch?v=BU4ZXwVvgBg
If Willy Wonka were a typographer, this would be his chocolate factory. His waterfall would not be made of chocolate but of ampersands, his cups would be full of T's, not tea, and the oompa loompas would be handcrafting tildas, umlauts and interrobangs. Naturally, he would do all his shopping at the Pop Up Alphabet Co-Op. Open for a single weekend, this Surry Hills pop-up has gathered art from graphic, furniture and jewellery designers, plus craftspeople from across Australia and Asia. Everything to re-design your home will be available; including prints and knits, postcards and pillows featuring fonts both classics and new from Arial to Zeta Bold. Like the edible toadstools and chocolate stream, literally, everything around the store could be yours to own — there are even prices on the pricetags, both of which promise to be affordable. The Pop-Up launch will also be celebrating the opening of Stereotyped: Sound and Typography, an exhibition exploring how sound and type create meaning simultaneously in our lives. So find your golden ticket and have your fill of all things number, word and phrase this weekend.
In any other profession an avalanche of heart surgery, cocaine addictions, extramarital relations, divorce and alcoholism would be enough to warrant throwing in the towel and considering a serious life change. A stand-up comedian, however, couldn't ask for better material. Robin Williams is no stage spring chicken, with his prestigious presence seeing three decades, four Oscar nominations, one Oscar win, two Emmy awards, four Grammys, six Golden Globes, one Mork and one Mindy. Weapons of Self Destruction is a grand old return to the sex/politics/global warming/elderly/drugs wit that fans have come to dote upon, as November will see the man's first-ever stand up tour to wash up on Australian shores. At almost 60, it's about flipping time you visited, Mrs Doubtfire. After testing new material to the sound of roaring raves from UK and US audiences last year, Williams' energetically classic comedy has certainly proved the test of time, with Disneyfied children hardly having to mourn the decline of their Genie. With his notorious use of assorted accents and performative smarts, this scathing and often uncouth 59-year-old comedic wit holds one skill over many of his younger contemporary stand-ups (despite a disturbing fondness Viagra skits) that raises his show to something of a must-see: the man can actually act. Williams is notorious for his attentive research of locale, with every country he swoops upon receiving personalised treatment and detailed local criticism. God help us when he discovers Tony Abbott.
Collaboration is an art Melburnian musicians really manage to nail. Joining the likes of soulsters the Bamboos and the Ray Mann Three super group (two distinct words in an un-Jack-Whitian sense), talented trio Electric Empire got up offa that thang and made some damn fine music for show and tell. Harnessing and caressing the power of Stevie Wonder, Curtis Mayfield and Donny Hathaway with one fell bass swoop and a series of handclaps, this Melbournian threesome bring a raw contemporary approach to soul that proves Aussies actually know how to use a flanger and a horn section. As the production/songwriting/performing brainchild of Dennis Dowlut (founding member of electronic R'n'B ARIA-nabbing duo Disco Montego), the man's persistence in crafting music with such feel and sincerity is wonderfully admirable given the loss of brother and musical partner Darren to cancer in 2005. With a new sound, a new scene and a newly soulful lease on life, Electric Empire is certainly the sunshine after the rain, and my my what rays it casts. With schmick production, a live explosion of horns and clavs and an alleged hand-picked invite to perform at Baz Luhrmann's Christmas party last year, the fresh crew features jazz-laden keys from Aaron Mendoza and the Motown snaps of percussionist Jason Heerah to create one smooth ride of a soul machine. With a debut album independently recorded, produced and promoted on the trio's own label Electric Empire Music, the bass is workin' and the Moogs are pulsin' as single 'Baby Your Lovin' lights up the deep rhythmic scene of Australia's more recent seventies throwdown. Behold ladies and gentlefolk — a new Empire has arisen. https://youtube.com/watch?v=3hCa5OYGLy4
Does the future bother you? Does the prospect of things to come fill you with an unspecified sense of dread and foreboding? Or do you look at the future rather with a sense of optimism and easy anticipation? Whatever your untold horror of the coming world, the Performance Space's Uneasy Futures season of forward-looking work takes all of these things to heart, regarding the future with a circumspect, eager eye. Spanning the duration of the season, Awfully Wonderful is an experimental exhibition which brings you regular in-exhibit performance art and random inhabitants, as well as offering regular speakers, performers and film slipped into the Performance Space's regular Clubhouse program. Briwyant is a dance piece that crosses Yolngu dreaming with the domesticity of the Inner West, while Dean Walsh's Fathom juxtaposes dance with the environment's future while utilising his scuba-diving past life, live on stage. The season's drama offering is The Disappearances Project, a collaboration with Version 1.0 fresh from Bathurst. A play which plays on life without loved ones, and what life is like when you're the one searching for a missing person.
In Busted, artist Shannon Field continues his investigation of gender and what it is to be cast amongst that most problematic and misunderstood of tribes, the Australian heterosexual male. Using multiple mediums and a direct visual style akin to Outsider or Naïve artists, in Busted Field reconstructs the visages of a number of key characters from our colonial past and questions what role this past has played in the construction of the contemporary Australian masculine identity. Alongside a number of convict first-fleeters are well known figures such as Elizabeth Macquarie and Burke and Wills. That dynamic duo seems a particularly appropriate choice in a discussion of Australian masculinity. Nothing says ‘she’ll be right’ or ‘no worries’ like an impromptu trip from Melbourne to the Gulf of Carpentaria led by someone with little to no skills in exploration. The resulting images are by turns visceral, alarming and wryly humorous. The nature of masculinity is a fraught topic to take on, and those of us who have zero ability to produce a rugged crop of facial hair in the time between breakfast and smoko should go just to thank Field for his efforts and concerns for our plight. Everyone else should just go for the art. Image: Shannon Field, Lydia Munro 2011
Berlin-based New Zealand artist Michael Stevenson's artworks seem to come at you from every angle, and not only in the literal sense. His sculptures, like The Gift which is a raft made from, among other things, bamboo, a World War II parachute and National Geographic magazines, are wild and multilayered and his video works, which combine allegories via audio over rhythmic visual motion, are insightful, funny, confusing and mesmerising. Stevenson's going to confuse and mesmerise us even more with his new retrospective over two layers at the MCA. While the show will present a range of work from over the past 10 years, Stevenson also considered the space itself an installation and he's taken to carving up the museum's precious walls. The skeleton of the MCA, parts that were hidden until now, will be revealed and co-exist with the rest of his artwork in an unusual intermingling of seen and unseen, planned and unplanned. https://youtube.com/watch?v=je0ue-o_ZtY
The esteemed anthropologist David Harvey believes, "the freedom to make and remake our cities and ourselves is … one of the most precious yet most neglected of our human rights". He called on all social groups to assert their 'right to the city', and curators Lee Stickells and Zanny Begg are doing just that with the upcoming Tin Sheds exhibition, symposium and publishing project. But it's not just the 'right' to the city they're interesting in, but how to get out of the concrete jungle, i.e. the escape plan. From the whimsical to the serious, and with social connectivity and sustainability in mind, artists, artist collectives, architects and engineers come together in The Right to the City to present real or invented ways to 'remake' the city. Australian artists Claire Healy and Sean Cordeiro consider public and private space; New Zealand artist-engineer DV Rogers will construct and occupy a relief shelter for the show; UK-based Sophie Warren and Jonathan Mosley, artist and architect, construct situations and imagined architecture; Milkcrate Urbanism, an artist collective from Sydney, aims to engage with the people that actually inhabit the spaces in which they work; and Temporary Services from the USA will show Public Phenomena, their 10-year research into inventions people make in public. The Right to the City symposium runs 10 – 6, Saturday 9 April at the University of Sydney Faculty of Architecture, Design and Planning. https://youtube.com/watch?v=UhqD3az9cZ4 Image: Sophie Warren and Jonathan Mosley, Beyond Utopia
There are some things you can hear about, some things you can ken from a tv tube, pair of pc speakers or a sharply printed word. And then there's Fantine Pritoula's voice. Named after the mother of the better-known Cosette in the great humanist epic Les Miserables, Fantine has all the soul, all the fire, all the ever-present vocal power that her namesake lacks in fiction. It's hard to think of her as an emerging artist, but Fantine still hasn't had some of the high-profile exposure of other local acts. Wednesday night that changes, as she launches her first single, 'Rubber Room', by showcasing her talent at Goodgod Small Club. Fantine grew up in Russia, the Dominican Republic (a Spanish-speaking country on the same island as Haiti) and Perth. All these cultures, and more, mix in with her songs, her covers and her style. It's a surprise that she's only now producing her first single, after so much musical work around town. She's been promoting this show on the streets of Sydney, Mariachi-style. But don't be fooled, her shows won't stay this small for long. Get a listen in, while it's still possible to do it on a whim. Tickets will be on sale at the door on the night. Photo by Luke David Kellett https://youtube.com/watch?v=n5wgd-nOhaQ
Listening to the dreamy soundscapes of Beach House is a little like sitting in clouds of cotton wool. As if in a Gondry film, the world slows down, frustrations become gentler, the objects of your focus transform into something unique, kitsch, precious. It will be a singular pleasure then, to experience their cinematic sounds in the Hyde Park Barracks — a venue quite well suited to Gondry-style transformation. It's also convenient that Sydney is home to Parades, with their own form of meandering, glittering pop. The band should be almost as in demand as the headliners, considering their unfortunately canceled tour at the end of last year. Image: Beach House, courtesy of Sydney Festival
Are you a reality television fan? Did you mourn the loss of Big Brother when it left the airwaves? Are you a sucker for a good home reno show? Then you know that the best reality television isn't necessarily based on reality, it is that which revolves around the most heightened reality of drama. Dutch theatre makers, Kassys, knew this when they put together their production, Good Cop Bad Cop. Using physical comedy and playing with the most absurd aspects of that which is purported to be reality television, this production will leave you delighted and have you questioning everything you thought you knew about those popular shows on the goggle box. Most importantly, you will laugh at the false drama set up by the large personalities living in 'the house'. One of the best things about the Sydney Festival, other than simply the sheer number of events you can go to, is the exposure to creators, artists and ideas that you'd never normally see. So take advantage of the opportunity to see world class theatre, get your square eyes ready, and work out exactly which cop you'd rather be when you head to the Seymour Centre this week.
Ok now, what is it with Christian Bale starving himself for roles? Playing a crack addict ex-boxer, he's not quite as emaciated as he was in The Machinist, but not far off. Then again, he's just taken home the Golden Globe, so he must be doing something right. Sharing this golden glory is a very deserving Melissa Leo, who plays the ferocious matriarch Alice Ward in this true story that was simply made for the silver screen. With big hair and broad accents, the working class Ward/Eklund clan of nine (!) lay all their hopes at the feet of boxing half-brothers Dicky Ecklund (Bale) and Micky Ward (Mark Wahlberg). As the erstwhile town hero, the 'Pride of Lowell,' who once went toe-to-toe with the Sugar Ray Leonard, Dicky may be the aforementioned skeletal shadow of his former self, but that doesn't mean he's done hogging the spotlight. On the contrary, this larger than life character sucks all the oxygen from the room as his younger brother struggles to make his own way in the brutal world of boxing. Their inevitable fraternal falling out is helped along by Micky's strident, scrappy girlfriend Charlene (Amy Adams), yet Micky must ultimately decide who he wants in his corner for his world title bout. As a boxing film and family drama, The Fighter doles out just what the doctor ordered. It's astutely crafted, superbly acted and surprisingly funny alongside the requisite training montages and thickly applied themes. In fact in many ways, the film is akin to its lead actor Wahlberg: solid, committed and with just enough spark to ward off the blandness. It's Bale who brings all the bells and whistles to the film with his obnoxiously over the top performance, while Leo quietly steals her scenes out from under him. Adams is somewhere on the sidelines, furiously attempting to rough up her peaches-and-cream persona, and mostly succeeding. And though The Fighter is obviously a passion project for Wahlberg — himself one of nine children and a long time friend of Ward's — he wisely doesn't compete with Bale's pyrotechnics, focusing instead on getting ripped and getting thumped. Similarly, director David O'Russell (Three Kings, I Heart Huckabees) seems to have reigned himself in. This is his third collaboration with Wahlberg and yet he too appears to be playing second fiddle to this compelling true, albeit largely overwritten, story. But despite the fact that most of the edges have been buffed out — even with the presence of a crack addict &3151 The Fighter still has enough grunt make it a hefty cinematic contender. https://youtube.com/watch?v=Hwv7kT9P0mg
Is the program blurb not quite cutting it? What you've just seen not quite coming together yet? Or perhaps you'd just like to dig a bit deeper? Let's face it, art is not always the most transparent stuff. Occasionally, it takes a little more reflection - and perhaps a little extra reference material. With this in mind, Sydney Festival has Caroline Baum on board to take us between the lines. In this Microscope series, Baum will converse with some of the festival's key artists to get behind the processes and ideas at play. Those involved include Patrick Nolan, director of Legs On The Wall extravaganza My Bicycle Loves You, Grayson Millwood and Gavin Webber, the co-directors of the unconventional Food Chain, and Wayne McGregor, artistic director of Random Dance and responsible for the cutting edge work, Entity. The best part is that all these discussions are free! Check out the dates to make sure you don't miss out. Image: photo by Jamie Williams
Short film meets the sea for another year with the 20th annual Flickerfest, and this time they're boasting a pithy tagline: May the Shorts Be With You! Yes, pack a Star Wars inspired pun or two for your trip to Bondi Pavilion and get in amongst the creative force of the world's premiere short filmmakers. Whittled down from a record 1793 entries, this year's 100 strong programme looks set to be a stunning way to kick off your cinematic new year. Amongst the Australian entries for the Academy Award accredited festival is the World Premiere of The Telegraph Man. This World War II drama stars Jack Thompson, Gary Sweet and Sigrid Thornton and takes the similar point of view as the recent American tale The Messenger. Brendan Cowell fronts another World Premiere film, Bee Sting, about a father and son falling for the same woman, while audience will get the chance to experience Ariel Kleinman's superb submarine drama Deeper Than Yesterday, which won prizes at both Cannes and the Sydney Film Festival. Another prize-winner at Cannes, Serge Avedikian's animated Chienne d'Histoire is part of the an impressive international line up, which also includes the recently Academy Award shortlisted Ana's Playground and the Sundance selected Echo. Magnus von Horn's Echo — about two boys facing the consequences of their crime — is screening as part of the festival's Spotlight on Poland, which includes Bartek Kulas' Polish vision of a character from a Nick Cave ballad, Millhaven. Other programme highlights include a selection of environmentally conscious shorts screening as part of GreenFlicks, as well as documentaries, comedy shorts, the Flicker Kids specials and of course the Star Wars Tribute. The 1977 classic spoof Hardware Wars is a must-see (it's even George Lucas' favourite), while another affectionate tribute, Star Wars Retold, lets someone who has never seen the film take a crack at recounting the saga. As ever, Bondi is only the first stop in Flickerfest's national tour, so this great selection of shorts will be with us for quite a while after all. https://youtube.com/watch?v=ea0Cz-rSLi8
Mike Birbiglia is one of the recurring features of eclectic Chicago radio show This American Life (also often home to the assasination-loving and super-hero voicing Sarah Vowell, theatre-filling author David Sedaris and Pulizer owner Michael Chabon). He's been on Letterman and also makes regular appearances in the nerve-racking storytelling series the Moth. Birbiglia started his career doing straight stand-up, but over time he unwound his routine to revolve around longer stories. The stories are funny, unwind slowly and, like his Sydney Festival show My Girlfriend's Boyfriend, they're all about him. Birbiglia's tales are very personal. In his earlier tour, Sleepwalk with Me, Birbiglia explained how he sleep-jumped through a second-story hotel window while he was touring the show before. My Girlfriend's Boyfriend is named after one of his first high-school relationships, which included one extra boyfriend, who may or may not have been him. Previous performances of the show have inspired marriage and though Birbiglia doesn't guarantee you'll find yourself a soul-mate at every show, the pain in your sides leaving the Seymour Centre should be company enough.
It does not do Philip Glass justice to simply call him accomplished. Since the mid-1960s he has consistently pushed and redeveloped himself, moving from early minimalist experimentation into thoroughly modern renderings of baroque and romantic sounds. This sense of reinvention has seen Glass applauded by both the art music scene and mainstream Hollywood audiences. An Evening... is the rare gift of hearing some of Glass' latest work played by virtuoso cellist, Wendy Sutter, for whom much of it was written. There is a promise of a strange intimacy here, with the chamber duo matching recent, personal works such as Songs & Poems and Piano Etudes to Glass' earlier compositions for theatre. Expect a fight for tickets, as this is only an evening, but if you do want more Philip Glass be sure to watch as he performs his score for the film Dracula.
Arthur Wigram Allen was a photographic Pepys, chronicling his life and that of the city around him in the years before World War I. His collection — most of which is previously unpublished — is now on exhibition at the Museum of Sydney. Joining Allen's memories are artworks from Rupert Bunny, Ethel Carrick Fox, Arthur Streeton and Grace Cossington Smith, as well as numerous examples of fashion and technical objects, all of which help to form a patchwork record of Edwardian Sydney. It is hard to imagine a photographic archive of Sydney that doesn't include gangland murders, but here is proof that Sydney has seen gentler times. An avid lover of the theatre, boating and that new toy, the motor vehicle, Allen captures Sydneysiders living an exciting, joyous life upon the threshold of the 20th century. Image by Arthur Wigram Allen
Begone rain, clouds and generally cool conditions! It seems safe to say that summer is almost, finally, here. Time for all those warm adventures that Sydney has missed for so long: surf, sand and ice cold beverages. But if you're not quite ready to tackle those reddened backpackers at Bondi just yet, perhaps you'd prefer a more relaxed, evening option? The institution that is Moonlight Cinema, held in Sydney's thankfully protected Centennial Parklands, might be a more viable choice. This season's line up includes more than a few gems — the usual formula of summer blockbusters meets well-oiled classics. Highlights include the mind-bender Inception, biopic of Time's recently named Person Of The Year, The Social Network, and indie cult classic Donnie Darko. There's exclusive previews, including Denzel Washington in a runaway train thriller and the final film of the Millennium trilogy. And, of course, Breakfast at Tiffany's makes an appearance. You'd be wise to snap up tickets fast, before those Gold Grass seats disappear.
Science fiction doesn't always like engaging with death. Source Code director Duncan Jones doesn't have that problem. Jake Gyllenhall's Coulter, who seems at first like a drone pilot back from Afghanistan, finds himself suddenly on a double-decker train to Chicago, and seemingly in someone else's body. Coulter struggles to find a bomb on the train in a series of jumps into the past where he relives the same eight minutes over and over. But he's also trying to discover where he is in a bald present full of military technicians who don't feel like answering any of his questions. Jumping back and forth between sci-fi [spoilers] and the hazy surreality of dream, Source Code feels a bit like an acting exercise, constantly improvising a new version of the same scene. A lot of its essential parts involve people who won't talk about the past, but unlike Jones' previous Moon this makes getting into the characters a bit more difficult. Towards the end though, the film makes a brief crash through the territory of Alejandro González Iñárritu's crushing Biutiful, and brushes quite well through the same themes of fathers and children, imminent death and sober reflections on mortality. Reliving the same moment over and over has been played out many times, most nimbly in Star Trek and Groundhog Day. Films like the Matrix used to be consumed in piercing these apparently illusionary worlds and escaping closer to the real world, but since September 11 they've become more interested in the dream and dreamer, and less interested in the waking up. The zeitgeist is beginning to find reality unappealing to return to. Source Code owes a lot to the Matrix (one promo story [spoilers] in particular), and its biggest strength is its biggest weakness: uncertain ground under what is real, and what is dream. https://youtube.com/watch?v=_3QkJ_a1nlw
Shakspeare's comedies can be a little confusing. As You Like It disguises its women as men, banishes dukes, romps in the forest and has quite a lot of sheep and their shepherds. Siren Theatre's production of the play starts slowly, but soon finds it's momentum. It accumulates comedy pat by pat, as much as the actors cake on makeup as the play rolls on. The cast start dressed in more sober 1940s gear. Getting deeper into the play, and deeper into the forest, the actors' faces become more dolled and more clown-like. The make up exaggerates and deepens their expressions, and red noses become a feature of the production. Shauntelle Benjamin's Rosalind, in drag, becomes a grinning extra from Deadwood, and Julian Curtis' Orlando gets messy attacks of David Tennant hair. In the background for most of the play is a trio of musicians. Ali Hughes sings, David Manuel percusses and Daryl Wallis plays piano. Music flows behind this prodcution — it's surprisingly well-fit. Unwinding awkwardly at first, but soon making a cool counterpoint to the action on the stage with songs echoing jazz or Kurt Weil. Other moments are deftly spanned by spare percussion. The three musicians barely enter the play, but as it progresses they become the soil on which the other action spreads. As usual in Shakespeare's comedies, the juiciest roles are the funniest ones. Kate Worsley and Alice Cooper are particularly good as shepherds Phoebe and Silvius. Cooper overflows with a thousand dorky points as the unhappy lover, and Worsley is perfectly broad-voiced, expressive and ungrateful. Anthony Weir has something of the Fisher King's Perry in him, swaying enjoyably from melancholy to wit as the sad-faced Jacques. Nick Meenahan is extra comfortable with his Elizabethan lines, delivering an effortless Touchstone the fool, with a fit and functional ocker accent.
It would be deceptive to characterise So What? as a typical student theatre company. Rather than 'shy', 'brave' would perhaps be the best word. Despite limited years, they are unmistakably ambitious. Having tackled Shakespeare (a production of Macbeth is already under their belts), this company has moved on to another incredibly complex work. Adapted from Robert Dessaix's novel of the same name, Night Letters follows the escape to Europe of a dying man desperate to understand his own history. Rather than comprehending his story, however, he becomes entangled in the histories of others: both those who surround him and those who have inhabited the same place before him. Presenting this play as part of Mardi Gras foregrounds the fact that it pays attention to marginalised individuals, those who are otherwise excluded from the pages of the past. It is a surprisingly joyous act of celebrating their existence, while it inevitably mourns their tragedies. The strength of this production lies in what may initially appear to be its weaknesses. More eager to extend themselves than display skills mastered, more willing to tackle difficult scripts than stick to safe options, the members of this company expose themselves to dangerous risks. Taking this path, however, opens up the space to create a performance that is dynamic, playful and unpredictable. Potentially dull moments are infected with the actors' irresistible charms, while extensive scenes are stretched into absurdity, only to be poignantly pulled back into the immediate. Entrances and exits — a typical pitfall of student theatre — are managed seamlessly. Above all, the emotion of the script is carefully managed by director Christopher Hay to sidestep the issue of age and still deliver on the demands of the plot. In short, Night Letters is one to watch, and so is the company behind it. Image: Charlotte Green, Eleni Schumacher and Christopher Hay in Night Letters, 2011. Photograph by James Pang.
As far as boy-meets-girl films go, this one is a keeper. Not only does this film tart up the rather tired romance genre with an inspired thriller twist, but the chemistry between leads Matt Damon and Emily Blunt is downright electrifying. Add to mix a Phillip K. Dick adapted story which conspires to allow them to 'meet cute' on multiple occasions, and The Adjustment Bureau might just be the perfect date movie. Writer George Nolfi (The Bourne Ultimatum, Oceans 12) makes a confident directorial debut with his main man Damon playing feisty up-and-coming politician David Norris, who is set to shake up the US Senate if he stops sabotaging himself with youthful antics. On election night, David is mesmerised by the beautiful dancer Elise (Blunt), but 'the powers that be' – literally - get in the way to keep David on track. In a marvellous advertisement for Moleskines, David's fate is mapped out in a notebook and monitored by a band of mysterious, besuited men who all sport fedoras like they've stepped out of a film noir. Fans of The Matrix or Alex Proyas' superb neo-noir Dark City will be in familiar (if watered down) territory here, as David discovers the truth behind his 'fate' and is then forced to fight for his own free will. Damon is very well cast, with his effortless likeability and everyman quality, as well as the commanding presence necessary to carry the film. Blunt is given decidedly less to do; barring one lovely dance sequence, she is fairly firmly relegated to the sidelines, though sheer force of will sees her manage to make Elise three dimensional in spite of the annoyingly passive writing. Mad Men's John Slattery steps smoothly into his fedora-wearing role alongside a believably conflicted Anthony Mackie, while Terence Stamp is another piece of genius casting, playing fate's ominous enforcer. Great actors, an engaging, brain bending story and a series of clever chase sequences through New York City all point to the bright cinematic future of The Adjustment Bureau. However much like David's plan, this all goes terribly off course during the film's dénouement, when Nolfi decides to slather on his moral message so thickly it's almost suffocating. This atrociously trite conclusion threatens to ruin the entire film, but perhaps if we can just get a hold of the right Moleskine, we can make some adjustments, and it'll be like that ending never happened… https://youtube.com/watch?v=wZJ0TP4nTaE
The Imperial Panda Festival does strange art, performance and some general fringe. It emerged from the tail end of Lanfranchi's Memorial Discotheque and ran two packed small festivals in 2008 and 2009. Returning from a fallow year last year, the Festival is landing on Sydney in a bigger and better-funded incarnation. A new festival headquarters is being provided by the SMAC-winning Goodgod Small Club, giving this year's Festival a beating heart and an underground home. For two weeks in March, the Imperial Panda Festival inflates Sydney's regular creative miasma into a maelstrom of art and entertainment. Regulars return, like The Suitcase Royale (in part and in whole) and various incarnations of artist collective Cab Sav. But this year's festival is also home to the Campfire Collective's Moth-like storytelling evening, the Hanson-baiting Pauline Pantsdown and an edifying show explaining What Is Soil Erosion? Not to mention a series of free talks and some bartering art in the form of an Unwanted Music Swap and the mysterious Stock Exchange project — which matches strange bargains with stranger counter-offers. What more could you want, actual pandas aside? *Tickets for most events are on sale on the door of the venue on the night.
If Celine Dion was enough to ruin the memory of the Titanic for life, then it’s about time to take a trip to IMAX to forgive and forget. Turns out that after James Cameron broke all the box office records with his love letter to the doomed vessel, he wasn’t quite ready to leave the ghosts to rest. Instead he put together a slightly less photogenic team of scientists, historians and tech heads, and headed far out to sea in order to film the Titanic in her final resting place. The result is a simply remarkable 60-minute 3D IMAX documentary. Cameron fashions the film around Titanic alumnus Bill Paxton, who narrates a rather reverent account of his voyage of discovery, while Cameron and the rest of the crew geek out in the background. It was a wise call to have such a familiar face walking the audience through this underwater experience, however Cameron almost errs too far on the side of caution, including hardly any thoughts from his academic team. Instead he focuses on a surprisingly gripping rescue mission after one of his two camera robots gives up the ghost and must be navigated to safety by its companion. The rest of the film is given over to the majesty of the Titanic herself. There is something quite powerful about seeing the startlingly preserved remnants of the ship after 90 odd years in her watery grave. Cameron uses CG remodelling well, layering the images to give a great sense of context, but also allows the stark skeleton time to speak for itself. The documentary here becomes a respectful and deeply poignant tribute to the 1500 lives lost as well as a chronicle of what human failings brought them under. Made back in 2003, Titanic 3D: Ghosts of the Abyss may be a timely re-release to cash in on James Cameron’s latest producorial effort, Sanctum, but such cynicism is best set aside. Instead just go and marvel at this spectacular piece of visual history; it’s 60 minutes very well spent.
In his eight-screen installation at the Sherman Contemporary Art Foundation, Yang Fudong stretches time, making 11 minutes seem like nearly an hour and a half. The eight screens are concavely arranged so that when sitting amidst them you feel as if you're surrounded by Fudong's delicate black-and-white imagery. What unfolds before you is intriguing — the setting is the West Lake in early spring; there are four men in traditional Chinese attire; four men in Western suits and four women, sometimes in suits, dressed as men, most of the time in exquisite cheongsams and luxurious fur stoles. These characters move silently from screen to screen as they traverse the banks of the lake and the lake itself. To your right, the camera focuses on the rippling water or the sway of a tree budding with the season's first flowers, while to your left four men stalk through the woods and somewhere near the middle the four girls run down the cobblestone bridge, tickling each other and laughing. Fudong says of the characters in his 2006 video work, "as winter fades from them, they yearn to catch one last vestige of the Broken Bridge: the memory of translucent, languid snow". They infuse the work with feelings of both celebration and nostalgia. Image: Yang Fudong, No Snow on the Broken Bridge, 2006.
Liveworks is a crawling, sprawling tangle of contemporary pieces, bundled together into a four-day-long festival extravaganza. There's plenty for punters to choose from. Karen Therese will apply her particular brand of charismatic, confrontational and a-little-bit-crazy performance to Alistair White's 'Comfort Zone' theory. Brigid Jackson's Into/Out Of Me is a solo performance in a dressing room that explores the extent to which our bodies actually belong to us. In manola, Claudia Escobar pursues an "experimental visual journey", swinging between her heritage and popular perceptions of Colombia. And if you should feel the need for a brief moment of respite, don't visit the Clubhouse, where Cinemanic and I Can Draw You A Picture will be busily at work. While a day pass will keep you busy, I'd recommend the festival pass: for a mere $60, you can see as many performances as you can cram into the four days of the festival.
The first time I heard The Paper Scissors was in 2006 at a trendy warehouse art launch in Chippendale where my pal Chris Stracey of the now famous Bag Raiders was playing a few songs. Wow I thought, Johann Sebastian Rach (inventor of the cowbell, 1688) would be waltzing in his grave to this. 'Was ist das?' I asked, 'We Dont Walk by The Paper Scissors dude.. good! right?' he responded (I realise that it only took one sentence for me to shamelessly name drop but its my first Concrete Playground contribution and I wanted to include an anecdote so you will just have to deal with it.) I have followed the The Paper Scissors ever since and have justifiable high hopes for the new album. Wikipedia says TPS are "a combination of garage-punk, rock and soul". I love a good one line band description but that one is weak. I think the most endearing thing about them is Jai Pyne's vocals, I feel like they are telling me there is a party over where he is and I'm invited. So I have decided that they play 'rug cutting-mosh option-inclusive rock'. I am flabbergasted that you can still get to one of their shows for such a modest cover. I have somehow never made it to a live gig but by all accounts they bring fire. In fact if CP don't get me a comp ticket I'm either going to stop writing for them after this, my first post, or just buy a ticket, like you should. https://youtube.com/watch?v=H5EqYCBq0E4
Clare Bowditch is a woman of many skills and pursuits: ARIA award winning songstress, mother of twins, major proponent of the Australian Midwives Association and expert impersonator of Julia Gillard. Earlier this year, Bowditch interviewed Gillard (the real Gillard). The event was casually referred by the press as Ranga vs. Ranga, and it showcased Bowditch as a formidable opponent in the political sphere. Inversely, Prime Minister Julia Gillard is probably not a very good singer, which is why it's good luck for all concerned that it is Clare Bowditch who is soon to play the Metro and not JuGi. Clare Bowditch and the New Slang are on the road for all of October in support of their fourth album, Modern Day Addiction. The record is a shift in pace and style for Bowditch and co. Written mainly on a toy Casio (and later translated for a seven piece band), it's by far the most dance-oriented of Bowditch's records. Thematically, it's direct: concerned with the whims and wants of modern culture. Lyrically songs touch on consumerism, plastic surgery, television. Live Clare Bowditch and the New Slang are utterly brilliant: a little nutso, very cheeky and supremely tight. In fact, Bowditch is such an effusive and compelling performer that even if this 'isn’t your thing' you'd probably still enjoy it. Ladies and gentlemen of the Australian public, Clare Bowditch.
Boston boy Ben Affleck returns to his roots for a thrilling, if ever so flabby sophomore effort in The Town. In a keen observation of the loyalty and liabilities of friendships in the close nit Boston neighbourhood of Charlestown*, Affleck's adaptation of Chuck Hogan's Prince of Thieves centres on Doug MacRay (Affleck), a reforming bad guy trying to extricate himself from the family businesses: armed robbery. With dad (Chris Cooper) already doing time, Doug and his ominously erratic best friend Jem (Jeremy Renner) lead a ruthlessly professional team of robbers. But when a heist goes awry and Jem briefly makes a hostage of bank manager Claire (Rebecca Hall), the crew decides she must be watched lest she tips off the FBI, fronted by stoic Special Agent Adam Frawley (Jon Hamm). Predictably, Doug winds up smitten and starts a romance with Claire, but are dreams of a better life enough to escape The Town? The little boy lost routine Affleck trots out here has distinct echoes of his debut screenwriting effort Good Will Hunting (co-written with Matt Damon). So too the wry turns of phrase; Affleck's dialogue is for the most part clever, brash and insightful, but he indulges himself with far too many monologues. Doug's lengthy revelations about his mother and his past come at the cost of any real development of Claire's character. In fact it is only through sheer force of Hall's prodigious on screen presence that Claire comes away as anything other than a sounding board for Doug's existential crisis. Gossip Girl's Blake Lively is given a little more to do in her surprisingly stellar effort as Doug's ex, young mum and local oxy-skank, Krista. Showing up both Hamm and Affleck in her scenes, she brings a desperate humanity to Krista's messy existence. Affleck also calls in the big guns with Pete Postlethwaite and Cooper as two members of the old guard, and living symbols of Doug's fate. The Town sees a lot of action, and here Affleck excels. He's clearly aware of the legacy left by films like Point Break and Heat, but proves himself worthy of adding to the genre with some cracking pace, kinetic editing and high tension. Setting the climactic heist in the Red Sox's Fenway Park is pure gold, though even this is pulled down by a denouement heavy in mawkish sentimentality. Still, as an electric heist film played out with an impressive ensemble cast, and grounded in a believably earnest sense of place, Affleck proves Gone Baby Gone was no beginners luck. It's no The Wire, but The Town has definitely got game. *The credits dedicate the film to the people of Charlestown. A massive backhanded compliment? You decide. https://youtube.com/watch?v=GQL0xnDBx_M
I never imagined seeing pom poms and sequins genuinely used in an art piece after I left primary school, nay, year three. But Troy Emery has a way with craft glue my kindergarten teacher would be proud of. In his first solo exhibition, Emery displays his 'Wild Things'. Creatures like the Emerald Python, or What is Not Commonly Held in Nature or Art are exactly that — animals, exhibits, taxidermied artefacts. You'll look on Wild Things/New Sculpture like the Romans looked upon giraffes and lions in the Colosseum. Justin Cooper's The Avid Spectator/Amused is just as surreal and wild. In this exhibition, Cooper takes images from his day to day observations and explores his subconscious. His liberal employment of juxtaposed faces, colour and subject matter is slightly unnerving and confronting. Beauty is buried deep in these images, despite the bright, conflicting application of watercolour and ink that makes the images all the more striking. Image: Troy Emery, 'Wild Thing'
When it comes to impressing the pants off my folks, kids these days have their work cut out for them — particularly if we're talking about making music. I play them MGMT and they say "It's ok", or Sarah Blasko, "Mmm it's nice", but throw on some Black Keys and they scrunch their noses "It's all just … noise!" Not that my folks are an especially good judge of what we should or shouldn't listen to, but when I play Tame Impala's album, Innerspeaker, there's not a word of complaint. Perhaps they like it for the psyche-idyllic memories it brings back from their days as Flower Children but I'd have to say I like it for its totally mesmerizing riffs and laid-back tone that have me spinning out by the end of an album. And if spun out is how it feels after listening to an album, imagine what it feels like after watching them live! Now is your opportunity to find out. https://youtube.com/watch?v=dEFy0-pThlM
To explore the workings of space-flight, ponder eco-houses or the skirting boards of trams, the Powerhouse Boiler Room is usually the place to be. Once a month, the gears of fertile minds are also put on show in its Mezzanine as part of Vibewire's fastBREAK series. With the sleek morning accoutrements of cheap breakfast and swish digs, you can listen to bright young things from a range of creative industries talk about what they do. This final fastBREAK for 2010 runs along the theme of love, and each of its five speakers loves their field. Jono Fisher's burn-out from the business world lead him to work as a nanny, which lead in turn to the germ of Wakeup Sydney's anti-pyramid of kindness. Vicky Roberts was part of the passion in the 2004 Olympics' Australian Women's Rowing team, Luke Escombe serenades with flippant Flip-Flop hip-hop, while Chris Thé authors the much-adored Black Star pastries spread at the fastBREAK buffet. Also speaking will be the Blood and Thunder-publishing, Rizzeria-loving Kernow Craig. Each will talk for five minutes, then get chatting with the audience. And after that, well — work. But maybe a good breakfast will allow you to love it just a little bit more. Image by learnscope.
There's a veritable crucible of perceptions, emotions and hysterical anticipation to consider when evaluating the penultimate film in the Harry Potter saga. This Global Phenomenon (surely deserving of capitalisation) has claimed the fervent love of at least one generation; come the release of Part 2 in 2011, kids and adults alike will have spent an entire decade with the film versions. This is all by way of saying that the first installment of J.K Rowling's Deathly Hallows tome has undergone an utterly indulgent adaptation — 146 minutes of minutely, magnificently detailed, precisely paced, decidedly dark fare — and the fans wouldn't have it any other way. Director David Yates, who has been helming the franchise since 2007s Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, flexes his muscles with an opening extreme close-up shot of Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour's (Bill Nighy) eyes as he ominously intones, "These are dark times." Yates and screenwriter Steve Kloves are unafraid of taking Rowling's story into the markedly more mature realm she outlines on the page; it's one made even more boldly disquieting with the striking visual allusions to the Inquisition and WWII eras, especially with regards to the ethnic cleansing of the Muggles. That said, Yates is not without a sense of humour; in one scene you can spy a hilariously titled piece of propaganda When Muggles Attack. A quick recap (SPOILER alert!): Dumbledore is dead. Voldermort (Ralph Fiennes) is wreaking havoc, and has Harry Potter (Daniel Radcliffe) splashed across the papers as enemy no. 1. After a series of ruthless attacks, Harry, Hermione (Emma Watson) and Ron (Rupert Grint) go on the run, trying to stay one step ahead of the hoards of Voldermort's nightmarish 'Snatchers'. The trio are also on the hunt for the remaining Horcruxes (splinters of Voldermort's soul that sustain his immortality), at which point you can be forgiven for confusing the film with The Lord of the Rings. Even if one can argue Tolkien doesn't have the patent on the quest storyline, the similarities are frustratingly apparent, even including an unearthly apparition that uses the same visual effect as Galadriel's ghostly transformation. Fortunately, however, Yates is blessed with some true geniuses in composer Alexandre Desplat and cinematographer Eduardo Serra, who conspire to create some of the most sublimely beautiful tableaux you're likely to see this year out the plot's relative, derivative, monotony. In fact one could wager Yates wants his audience to experience the tedium — punctuating it as he does with spine-tingling action — as well as the the hormone charged angst and the slow burn build up of tension for what promises to be a staggering climax in Part 2, and in 3D no less. It is definitely for the best that the production halted its mad dash 3D conversion for this installment (Serra's artistry is too thrilling to be ruined by a bad 3D render), but given the actors, director and entire production team are all now playing their A-Game, Part 2 could be absolutely magic. https://youtube.com/watch?v=SuYTztUNWIs
Tony McNamara's new play The Grenade is well paced, competently acted and funny at times, but it's hard to get too excited about a show so keen to diffuse its own narrative tension. Ostensibly about the paranoia that ensues when political analyst and family man Busby McTavish (Gary McDonald) finds a hand grenade left in his living room, The Grenade never makes any bones about its true focus: McTavish's angst over the potential sexual awakenings of his wife and daughter. And in that respect, the basic setup is pretty compelling. Busby's first wife cheated on him repeatedly — a humiliation the play goes to some lengths to emphasise — and his subsequent marriage to a ex-nun Sally (Belinda Bromilow) and encouragement of his teenage daughter's (Eloise Mignon) jaunt down the path of quirky, sexless nerddom both smack of pain repressed rather than healed. Enter suitors for both women and their evident reciprocity, and it seems like only a matter of time before something has to give and Busby explodes. Indeed, if the central metaphor somehow passes you by, there it is on the show's poster: McDonald's head superimposed on a shrapnel pineapple. However, despite establishing a central conflict ripe for exploring ideas of fidelity, betrayal and possessiveness, McNamara does almost nothing with the premise. It's not so much that Busby's paranoia is played for laughs (this is a farce, after all) but that those laughs are overwhelmingly lazy, throwaway gags that swamp any humour the show could extract from the concerns it has created for its characters. There is some incisive stuff about the minutiae of failed relationships and the consequences of desire — but it is immediately smoothed away with a thick layer of unrelated, inconsequential gags rather than building into something genuinely funny or cathartic. This kills what tension the play does build up, deflating its humour and robbing the audience of any investment in the characters. No-one's suggesting that theatre dealing with "weighty" themes has to itself be heavy going, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with inconsequential comedy, but putting the effort in to create an effective premise and not allowing it to play out comes across as somewhat wasteful in the end.
Even Books have more ideas for ways that nerds can have fun than the universe has room for. First they combined books, parties and braininess (whoever imagined THAT would be considered fun?). Then they created a Reader's Festival during the Sydney Writer's Festival(!) And now they're taking over First Draft gallery. "But how", you say, “can you simply puts words on walls?!” Enter the artists. Eight artists and eight writers have paired up to respond in their chosen medium to the notion of Twins/Doppelgangers, then swap their work (words for pictures and vice versa) and respond to their partner's response. Dizzy yet? Those responses will deck the walls of the gallery and on *opening night, will be accompanied bunch of nerdy-but-arty party-goers (i.e., you) because what Even Books event doesn't involve a party? In keeping with the theme you will be surrounded by mirrors and dressed-up doubles as you check the work of some of Sydney's finest emerging artists and writers including Rinzen, Sui Zhen, Caleb Lewis, Eddie Sharp and Lee Tran Lam. You'll also have the opportunity to purchase a first (and very limited) edition publication accompanying the exhibition *Launch party: November 10, 6 - 8pm
The more I read about it the more the patriotic Sydney native in me wanted not to like this project. Melbourne designer collaborates with Melbourne photographer for exhibition in Sydney. We don't like to be told how to do things up here. Sadly that is as negative as I can be because the clothes and images are a subtle yet undeniable pleasure to behold. The exhibition is comprised of a series of intimate and honest portraits. Stark visions of subjects handpicked from various walks of life. A model, an indigenous activist, a musician and a sculptor among others, each invited to "offer their own physical or emotional response to the clothing". Mia Mala McDonald is the photographer and Skinny Nelson the label. Through photography Mia McDonald clicks and drags over the forgotten details of life and presses APPLE (or CTRL) +B on her keyboard of artistic expression to embolden the discarded beauty of the world. Jacqui Alexander, designer for Skinny Nelson, who might be a case for DOCS, began her fashion education at age six. While my childhood was ticking away at a nearby Timezone arcade, Alexander's father was equipping her with the knowledge of pattern making and garment construction. By 18 Alexander was something of a veteran and Skinny Nelson was to become be the vehicle for her creative direction. Fashion and photography go together like wine and cheese; in both combinations there is a balancing act and the sum is reliant not just on the individual components but how well they sit together. These two have achieved an unpretentious, thoughtful harmony that is well worth a look.
Taking inspiration from events in the past 12 months such as the (mainly UK-based) media scandals and the digital frenzy that surrounded the Kony2012 campaign, the 2012 Sydney Writers' Festival will get us all thinking, talking, and maybe even writing about the shifting boundaries between what's public and what's private. Featuring profound and relevant discussions on current topics, including gay marriage and media in a digital age, the 15th SWF will include writing workshops, readings, talks, and panels from prizewinning authors, poets, and biographers — as well as politicians, judges, and even a CIA interrogator. The festival will be hosting a few international heavyweights, too. Libyan novelist Hisham Matar, who was shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize for In the Country of Men, will be opening the festival. He will be talking about his writing and the harrowing events of his past (his father was kidnapped by Gaddafi's regime in the '90s and is still missing). The Pulitzer Prize-winning author of The Virgin Suicides, Jeffrey Eugenides, is making his first trip Down Under for the festival, and Jeanette Winterson, author of Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit, will be here to read from her memoir Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?. Kick-arse writers from the UK and US, including Heather Brooke, who broke the story about the British parliamentary expenses scandal, and Stella Rimington, former head of MI5, are just two from a long list of influential writers who have tackled topics as wide-reaching as the troubled history of Ireland, Vladimir Putin's hold over Russia and western capitalism versus China’s booming economy. Closer to home, Australian expat Kathy Lette will be at the festival talking about raising an autistic child, and Aboriginal writer Anita Heiss and politician Bob Katter will be sharing their views on our nation. And don't forget the 5th annual MCA Zine Fair, where you can spend the whole day perusing, buying and talking about the DIY art. The festival takes place from May 14 to 20 across venues such as the Sydney Opera House, Walsh Bay, Sydney Town Hall and the Recital Hall. And the best part? More than half of the events are completely free. Some events are ticketed, some are not. Go to www.swf.org.au for details of all the writers attending and how to purchase tickets.
You know you are still underground when a writer trying to research you can't plagiarise your vitals from Wikipedia. You know you won't stay that way for long when every man and his dog wants to remix a track on your debut EP. 'Pumped up kicks' has spread through the muso-blogosphere like avian influenza through China. You know why? Because it's infectious. And much like 'Moersch-Woltman Condition', you might think you don't have it, but a remix has probably worked its way onto your playlist and unavoidable rhythmic spasms are on your horizon. LA based Foster The People are touring Australia for some local exposure in anticipation of their debut album, which the band say they are 'close to finishing'. Their electronic pop might not be considered revolutionary but it's got range, swagger and refreshingly decent lyrics. They are clearly having fun; nothing about it feels forced and unlike so many emerging acts, I can tell they have not released anything that sounds unfinished or unsure of itself. If their album is as carefully produced as their releases to date, by the end of the year there will be nothing obscure about them. https://youtube.com/watch?v=SLK7hrRijes
Let's clear up one thing straight off the bat. The word 'cellar' is often linked with the words 'dark' and 'dank'. Spiders typically come to mind. Not so with this cellar — actually, you couldn't get further from the truth. The part you're missing here is 'Sydney'. And if we've learned anything from the recent heat wave, it's that summer in Sydney means sun. This particular event is actually held in the laid back and distinctly alfresco surrounds of Hyde Park, so replace that dark cellar image with something a little more suited to the occasion. The Cellar Door concept has far more to do with content than environment. More than one hundred New South Wales wineries will be bringing along their finest drops, which is an excellent excuse for both experts and the curious to partake. Providores and restaurants will join them, showcasing the best produce that the state has to offer. Add a little chilled entertainment (the words 'laid back jazz' are being thrown around), and you're sorted until sunset. Entry is free, affordable tasting packages are available, and you've got an entire weekend to make the most of it. Image: photo by Dominic Loneragan
As the granddaughter of Italian immigrants, most of my 'Australian childhood' involved working too hard for everything, Mediterranean barbecues (those are aubergines), good ol' D.I.Y wine making and vege growing. I really wasn’t aware of the any other kind of Australian childhood and it wasn't until I experienced the humour, warmth and candour of William Yang's performances that I learnt about the experience of the Asian immigrants who also grew up in Oz. It was a really big eye opener for me. So successful has Yang been at enlightening audiences with his storytelling, that in 2010 Performance 4A asked him to direct, teach and guide a group of Asian Australians in how to tell their stories in front of an audience. Stories East & West is the result of these teachings and Australians from China, Vietnam, Malaysia and India share their tales, along with photographs from their personal collections. You can catch those stories as part of COOLie: Asian Australian Performance Event, along with About Face — a new variety show commissioned by Performance 4a to showcase the tales of our — not other, far-away — land.
Is art the stuff on the walls, or the stuff that drips out of your pen? A lot of the elements of Sydney's Museum of Contemporary Art invite opinion and controversy — although, just as many of the things in the galleries are quite obviously paintings, sculpture or photography. Or occasionally, quite obviously ordinary urinals too. But if you want to make sure that the things you see on the walls or floors at the MCA work for you as art, then you have the option of taking it all into your own hands. Drop in for one of their Weekend Art Sessions and make some of it yourself. Collage, charcoal, pencil, sculpture. The contents of the workshops vary as much the attendees. Similar sessions have included the rent-fabric mentoring of cut-out artist Kate Scardifield, and have explored the US West Coast art scene. The Weekend Sessions are run by MCA educators, they're run regularly and they're regularly running out of space. So if you want to start your art in the surrounds of a big-gallery space, on a weekend afternoon the MCA is your place to be. Image by Charlie Brewer.
The drive towards collaboration and connectivity is one of the biggest shifts in social and professional spheres over the last few decades. Nowhere is it seen more strongly than in the creative industries, with designers daily working side by side to reinvent the way the world looks and works. Object Gallery, the Australian Centre for Craft and Design, is hosting a season of local design talent to spread the word on how companies are shaping our lives in new, imaginative ways. Exhibitions and workshops are on offer to the public, featuring the know-how of Dinosaur Designs, DesignByThem, Cloth, Malcolm Greenwood, Oliver Smith, Mud and a score of others. Workshops take the form of industry insights, showing craft skills, through to pow-wows on how to reboot life through the senses.
Genderfuck and genrefuck are hand-in-glittered palm for Taylor Mac's phenomenal Australian tease tour of The Ziggy Stardust Meets Tiny Tim Songbook OR Comparison is Violence. Following quick-fired comparisons of being Ziggy Stardust (he sings and wears glam) and Tiny Tim (he plays a ukulele) from around the world, drag performer Mac decided to give the punters what they were assuming they wanted. The result is a cabaret performance that combines David Bowie's The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars with some of Tiny Tim's warbling greats. Being Taylor Mac, it's more than a singalong jukebox night. Mac's work is cutting edge performance communication, using outlandish and beautiful methods to wrestle the dangerous myths of modern society to the ground. Blessed with an immense talent, for singing, speaking and reasoning, Mac never preaches his cause, but rather plants wisdom and courage through entertainment. This will be one of the darlings of the Mardi Gras season, and for very good reason. https://youtube.com/watch?v=2G8GR457ZqQ
A lot of people like fan fiction. A lot of people write fan fiction. Typically speaking, I'd say a lot of fan fiction is almost definitely porn. What if Bella and Edward got together in the first book? What did Buffy and Angel really get up to that night? And, most importantly, what if regency era laws allowed Mr Darcy and Elizabeth to more, ahem, publicly display their affections than a simple chaste kiss at the end of the novel? If you were at all curious as to how Jane Austen might write porn, then best you have a look at Steven Dawson's Jane Austen's Guide to Pornography. Imagine what happens when Jane, readying for her swan song, meets 21st Century pornographic playwright Brett as he struggles to write his best work, and that's what you'll get. Combined with another of Dawson's work, Gorgeous Bastard, the whimsical tale of three gay men at a straight man's wedding, and you've got yourself a rollicking good night at the theatre. Both productions are being held in conjunction with the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras- just a small snippet of the cornucopia of events that will be held during the annual festival.
If Avatar was the cinematic equivalent of a brash, hulking show off, then Sanctum is its slight but wiry Australian cousin. Filmed with the same 3D cameras and executive produced by James Cameron, Sanctum is a solid action film and a skilful calling card for cinema’s new dimension. The story is based on producer and consummate cave diver Andrew Wight’s harrowing account of being stranded by a freak storm in the Nullarbor, where he and his unfortunate companions were forced to literally discover a new way out. This account has been fictionalised into a story that centres on a fractious father/son relationship between Frank (Richard Roxburgh) and Josh (Rhys Wakefield), as the life-and-death experience puts their already strained relationship under more pressure (again, literally). If you can get past the cringingly clunky opening act, then the trills and spills of Sanctum make for well crafted popcorn entertainment. Josh and Frank’s familial difficulties are given way too much air time, while the leaden load of exposition about the cave itself is handed to none other than The Chaser’s Andrew Hansen. Once in the depths, Dan Wyllie steals all his scenes as ‘Crazy’ George, the comic relief with the dramatic chops to back it up. Roxburgh trades in his Rake robes for a wetsuit, further anchoring the film with a suitably grouchy gravitas, which allows relative newcomer Wakefield (The Black Balloon) to convincingly shoulder his lead role. The rest of the ensemble is a little hit and miss, with Welshman Ioan Gruffudd (Fantastic Four) in particular seeming to struggle with both his American accent and his pencil sketch of a character. Although Sanctum is hard on the ears, the visuals are much more easy on the eyes. Some truly striking underwater sets are on offer, with some terrifying stunts to match. The 3D succeeds in amplifying the audiences’ experience, and on a visual as well as thematic level, the conceit of fading light is one of the film’s strongest elements. So, any claustrophobics out there can consider themselves warned; this is definitely not the film to see before fronting up to do your PADI course!
Tamara Drewe is the sort of film the British do best. A spry, sassy ensemble comedy, set in an idyllic countryside where everything is not quite as mannered as it appears. Playwright Moira Buffini (Jane Eyre) adapted Posy Simmonds' Guardian comic strip turned graphic novel, which is itself a sexy revamp of Thomas Hardy's classic Far From the Maddening Crowd. The result is a contemporary tale of erstwhile ugly duckling Tamara Drewe (Gemma Arterton), who is forced to move back to the sleepy rural Dorset village of Ewedown in order to sell the family home. There the locals are shocked to behold the stunning femme fatale, with her new septum and even more scandalous pair of denim shorts. Before long, the successful journalist finds herself embroiled in a love triangle with bratty rockstar Ben (Dominic Cooper) and Andy (Luke Evans), an old flame and now the muscle-bound handyman helping her restore the residence. Writers will get an extra kick out of Tamara Drewe — observing all of our heroine's shenanigans are a house full of writers toiling away on a creative retreat. Hubristic novelist Nicolas Hardiment (Roger Allam) and his effacing wife Beth (Tamsin Greig) run the household, which does not escape Tamara's singular charms. And rounding out the ensemble are two local schoolgirls Jody (Jessica Barden) and Casey (Charlotte Christie), who are obsessed with Ben and thus dangerously jealous of Tamara. Brimming with colour, vim and verve, director Stephen Frears (The Queen, High Fidelity) has deftly crafted a clear crowd pleaser. Everyone is in top form both behind and in front of the camera, with Arterton bringing just the right mix of modern seductiveness and old world gumption, although it is the comedic styling of young Barden who steals the show. Spirited, sexy and stacked with laughs — both light and delightfully dark — Tamara Drewe is a must-see modern day period comedy, with smarts.
Watching a Bangarra production is to stand in a whirlpool; a point of confluence where past and present blend. It may be an overused image but it is important to recognise the influence of tradition in any form of art, especially when the traditions are as ancient as those of Indigenous Australia. It is a mark of artistic excellence that Stephen Page and the company, now in their third decade, do not allow their conversation with the past to become a kitsch token of cultural consumption — their work remains unique, enthralling and world-class. Spirit is a focused moment in Bangarra's unity of past and present. Amongst moments from previous works sits Kathy Balngayngu Marika, whose story-telling powers weave a celebration of family, spirituality and nature. What you will see occupies that space between theatrical and ritualistic. It is the border between our world and something that is both of and bigger than us. On February 5th, Bangarra are presenting Spirit for a single fundraising gala before the show embarks on its European tour. Of the ticket price, $120 is a tax deductible donation that will go towards training new Indigenous storytellers and theatre-makers, ensuring that the grand ancient remains in resonance with the shifting now. Book by emailing rsvp@bangarra.com.au or calling 02 9251 5333. Image by Danielle Lyonne
Singaporean artist Ho Tzu Nyen gets around. His experimental film Earth — designed to be accompanied live by the music of Yasuhiro Morinaga and Stefano Pilia — has toured the world. It made appearances at the Venice Film Festival and Cannes, and more traditional art shows at Fukuoka and São Paulo. After these exotic excursions, Earth is coming here too, to be part of the Sydney Festival. A kind of painting translated to the page, Earth works in the tradition of Nightwatching or other transitions from canvas to film. Chocolate shades of light and dark are drawn out of Italian tenebroso and into the moving image, in a 45 minute film shot in three long takes on a set made up like a dark rubbish dump. Designed to sit with a musical score as much as to be projected on a wall, the Woolloomooloo installation of Earth at Artspace has arranged to have the music come to the shadowy art. Melbournite instrumentalist and composer Oren Ambarchi will perform live pieces to accompany the film tonight (Monday 24) and tomorrow at 7.30pm. So if you want to find out what backing music might have pleased Carravaggio, come down to Earth and check out the soundtrack. *The unaccompanied exhibition runs Tuesday to Sunday
This documentary comes with a warning label straight out of Fight Club: the first rule of Catfish is that you don’t talk about Catfish. Of course this makes reviewing Ariel Schulman and Henry Joost’s provocative and strikingly poignant documentary rather tricky, but it’s a cracking marketing campaign! To skirt around spoilers, Catfish is initially the story of 24-year-old New York photographer Yaniv (Nev) Schulman, who is affectionately bullied by his brother into sharing the details of his budding online friendship with an eager young painter, Abby. What begins with a few watercolours in the mail ends up with Nev becoming Facebook friends with the whole family and, 8 months later, as a pretty full on virtual romance between Nev and Abby’s 19-year-old sister Megan. The relationship is conducted through flurry of phone calls and flirty text messages, before a few curious inconsistencies see Nev travelling cross-country with Ariel and Henry to meet Megan face-to-face. In the wake of feted and infamous mockumentaries like Exit Through the Gift Shop and I’m Still Here it seemed inevitable that Catfish would face similar scrutiny. Queries about staged scenes on the one hand, and concerns about exploitation on the other will no doubt continue to dog the filmmakers, who, at this stage at least, are resolutely sticking to their guns. So your best bet is to give them the benefit of the doubt, and let any questions that the film might raise mingle with the reflexivity it evokes in every Facebook fanatic viewer. The true, almost nightmarish beauty of Catfish is the all too crystal clear mirror it holds up to its audience. In what could easily be called The Social Network 2.0, this documentary questions the nature of friendship in the digital age and the lengths we go to for tangible human connection. And for all the filmmakers’ youthful bravado, the answers Nev finds are an all too human jumble of awkward, uncomfortable and deeply affecting realities; truths that will leave you pondering just how fragile and fragmented we are in this small, virtual world of ours.
