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
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
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
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.
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.
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
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.
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
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
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
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.
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
I kid you not when I say, my knees started shaking in their boots when I read that The Big Fashion Sale was debuting in 2011 so soon after Christmas. It's not visions of swarms of hungry sale-scavengers, or even the fear and disappointment that arise when you realise that the sample isn't in your size that had me worried. No, it was the knowledge that The Big Fashion Sale only happens two times a year and I thought I wasn't ready for it yet! How wrong could I be? In a world where 'designer' is not nearly chic enough, TBFS promises 'cult designer' bargains from St Augustine Academy, Ebony Eve, Rittenhouse, Elke, Milk From a Thistle, Maurie & Eve, Shona Joy, Fernando Frisoni and a very, very long list of other local designers, who you can check out here. There are clothes, cossies, sunnies and more for all the boys and girls in your shared house, you should all check it out and style each other, like they do in the movies! Image: Ellery SS10/11
Hybrid art is an exciting byproduct of our shrinking planet. As cultures detach from their geographic origins, they slip like quicksilver between one another to produce fascinating happenings. In The Folding Wife, the merging of different practices — poetry, physical theatre and shadow play — are as much content as they are form; they are material evidence of the trans-cultural experience of many modern families. Writer Paschal Daantos Berry draws on her own experiences and anecdotes to present the tale of three Filipina women, Clare, Dolores and Grace, who are each compelled to strike out and seek a new homeland. Produced by Urban Theatre Projects, The Folding Wife crafts space and time, like folding and creasing paper, to shape a tale of our ever-shifting, hybrid world.
It's only been a few months since it was announced that Icelandic band Sigur Rós had thrown in the ol' towel, also known as "indefinite hiatus", so the tears might still be fresh enough to wipe dry with the news that lead vocalist Jónsi is coming to town. Having formed Sigur Rós after playing in a '90s grunge band with the straight-to-the-point name of Stoned (true!), Jón Þór Birgisson became well known for his post-rock musical sensibilities and delicate falsetto. For the past couple of of years he has collaborated with boyfriend Alex Somers under the name of Jónsi & Alex on publishing and music projects, releasing the instrumental album Riceboy Sleeps in late 2009. As tender as it might have been, Jónsi's recent solo album Go is more akin to the Sigur Rós dreaminess, garnering whooping reviews as he takes his cello bow to guitar and sings once more. With composition and arrangements by rising star Nico Muhly, it's a sweeping baroque pop record, begging for a tour. Having recently wowed crowds at Coachella and across North America, Jónsi will play Splendour in the Grass, and, lucky for those of us who missed tickets, will be playing a side show in Sydney at the Enmore Theatre. https://youtube.com/watch?v=UBgPmw3JCN4
Strange but delectably true: just a week ago, if you looked in the front window of the right three-storey terrace in Surry Hills at about 4am, you would have seen several twenty-somethings dancing intoxicatedly (it was a word then, at least) to the vintage-warm strains of Midlake. Now, while this is the only recorded instance of such a happening in recent times, it would not be a gigantic surprise to this writer if in the early hours of Sunday mornings everywhere, young, hip things could be seen lolloping about their low-lit lounge rooms to The Trials of Van the Occupanther and The Courage of Others. Midlake have that thing about them that encourages dorkish, retro shape-pulling from otherwise appropriately self-conscious youths. It's a heady nostalgia, best consumed after several gin and tonics, with your blinds half-drawn and seven or eight of your bestest friends. You listen on vinyl (obvs). < Of course, if you have no window dressings and no record player, you could always go and see the Midlake sideshow this July 31. It's bound to be *almost* as good, and if you find the right dark corner you can probably boogie down a little too. https://youtube.com/watch?v=P7YnE2Lv2Tw
While it is possible that Even Books might be wrong about this being a 'first', they've definitely gotten everything else right. This well-timed weekend extravaganza focuses on the essential element in all writing: the reader. Friday kicks off with a loving home, in the Clubhouse at Performance Space, for your unpublished creative genius. In the tradition of Richard Brautigan’s The Abortion, all sketches, notes and stains are accepted into the Library of Unwritten Books, where tequila will also play a role in getting the creative juices flowing. Saturday night shifts into film format, as FBi host and Playground-writer Kate Jinx curates an evening of flicks, pillows and BYO popcorn to be remembered, in the cosy confines of CuriousWorks. On Sunday, readers reclaim the streets of Redfern in a wandering read-a-thon. Bring along plenty of pillows, blankets and books — this could be a long ride. Ongoing features include another killer Even Books zine and reader installations, to be published on the blog. Write, read and get involved!
Many a love letter has been written to Manhattan, but producer Emmanuel Benbihy has managed to pen one more. Or, more accurately, eleven — for the man who worked on Paul Haggis' Oscar-winning Crash has taken a similar ensemble idea and fashioned it into eleven filmmakers' eight-minute shots that tie together into a (mostly) cohesive narrative called New York, I Love You. Benbihy's first attempt was the whimsical Paris je t'aime, but this time he has limited his filmmakers to two days of shooting and seven in the editing suite. The result is a journey into different areas of the Big Apple through a variety of 'love stories', with some markedly more tenuous than others. There's Bradley Cooper and Drea de Matteo appearing in Allen Hughes' segment as a pair nervously meeting up in Greenwich Village after a passionate one night stand. And there's a touching vignette with legends Cloris Leachman and Eli Wallach as a New York old married couple, doddering and bickering their way down to the boardwalk at Brighton Beach. Then, more opaquely, is Shekhar Kapur's study of the Upper West Side, personified by an aged opera singer (Julie Christie) and her curious connection with a hunchbacked, Eastern European bell boy (Shia LeBouf). Though all the stories may not appeal, it's hard not to be drawn to the talent involved. The actors include Orlando Bloom, Christina Ricci, Chris Cooper, Robin Wright Penn, Iffran Khan, Ethan Hawke and Natalie Portman. And while New York has been so ironically captured by the likes of Martin Scorsese, Woody Allen and Spike Lee, it's fascinating to see what directors such as Fatih Akin (Soul Kitchen), Mira Nair (Monsoon Wedding), Joshua Marston (Maria Full of Grace) and, er, Brett Ratner (Rush Hour) will make of it. The film also marks Natalie Portman's directorial debut, with a sweet if strained story of a little girl and her father. Benbihy's ambitious project resonates with audiences already innately familiar with the cinematic cities of New York and Paris. It will remain to be seen if the same magic will translate for future 'Cities of Love' stories, with Shanghai, Mumbai and Jerusalem all set to receive their own heartfelt declarations. https://youtube.com/watch?v=r8LK8Rl8h0E
Finders keepers, losers weepers ... it’s a childhood taunt that still has the power to make me plunge towards the asphalt like a deranged Olympian diver in the hope of finding something shiny. The Finders Keepers Market held biannually at CarriageWorks is probably less likely to end in tears and an almighty knee scrape — but you will come out the other end with some sweet, shiny things. This season's lineup beefs up the edgy over the cutesy — and I must say, I am rather relieved, as there are only so many pouty, moon-faced softie dolls I can fit on my bed. Standout newcomers include Bugs & Megs, who specialise in German-style wool felt products; the fresh tees of fashion darlings Das Monk; cheery pom-poms dangling off chains courtesy of Dreamers and Believers; silhouette cushions from Me and Amber; most ladies’ favourite mysterious creature, Secret Squirrel Clothing; the disturbing animalia of Stupid Krap prints; and scratchie cards you always win from thanks to stationery kids TMOD. If those haven’t got you on the edge of your springboard, there’s plenty more on offer — around 80 stalls in fact — along with a bar, cafe and live music. The markets stay open until 10pm on Friday and 6pm on Saturday. Just remember, snooze you lose.
A German comedy about food? Given that the nation is not exactly renowned for its culinary prowess, or comedic cinema for that matter, I was certainly curious about Soul Kitchen, the latest offering out of Germany from filmmaker Faith Akin (The Edge of Heaven, Head On) and winner of the Special Jury Prize at the Venice Film Festival. Zinos, played by co-writer Adam Bousdoukos, is the hapless but utterly lovable owner of Soul Kitchen, a restaurant in a decrepit area of Hamburg that serves greasy, subpar fare that his regular customers happen to love. When his girlfriend, Nadine (Pheline Roggan), accepts a job in Shanghai, Zinos is faced with the dilemma of what to do with the restaurant if he decides to join her. Enter the recently unemployed, hotheaded chef Shayn (Birol Unel), a culinary purist who promises to bin the sloppy servings and whisk Zinos's menu into a peak of sophistication. The mass exit of his regulars, outraged at the disappearance of the deep-fried stodge, begins a string of calamities for Zinos and his staff: Untimely visits from the tax and health departments, his dodgy brother Illias's release from prison on parole and harassment by a slippery developer itching to snatch the property all build into a comedy of errors that threatens to send Zinos and the restaurant into the red. Lightly spread with cheese, Soul Kitchen has a predictable narrative arc and at times indulges in tired comedic cliché, but it's all forgivable — Akin and his cast are having way too much fun to begrudge them any of it. On a lighter undertaking than his previous projects, Akin manages to imbue Soul Kitchen with a kind of gritty European sensibility and genuine warmth often lacking in typical Hollywood offerings of its genre. Besides, the quirky characters are so endearing and skillfully portrayed by an accomplished ensemble of actors, one can't help but become invested in their story. To win one of five double passes to see Soul Kitchen, email your name and address to hello@concreteplayground.com.au https://youtube.com/watch?v=Ua86x-J4ubA
Honor (Wendy Hughes) and George (William Zappa) have been married for 32 years. Honor, an accomplished (and published) poet when they met, gave up her career to support George’s ascent into journalistic glory and to raise their daughter, Sophie (Yael Stone). When Claudia, an attractive, 28-year-old journalist and would-be novelist (Paula Arundell), is commissioned to write a profile on George, Honor and Sophie find themselves at the mercy of George’s mid-life crisis; he up and leaves his wife for hot sex and creepy-replacement-father-like adoration from Claudia. Honor, although devastated, finds truth in the lie that became her life and resumes her career as a poet (apparently all the more able because of her hardship). Joanna Murray-Smith’s Honour is either an expose on the brutal inevitability of middle-class, heterosexual womanhood or a series of cleverly written cliches (that elicit in young, middle-class, heterosexual women a mortal fear of their inevitable future). The Sydney Theatre Company’s production sits in this ambiguity, being neither highly stylised nor wholly naturalistic, leaving me slightly confused as to Lee Lewis’s directorial intent. Is this real-life in the theatre or dramatic cliche? This ambiguity is apparent in the lack of continuity between the performances. In the opening scenes Arundell’s Claudia seems painfully over- or under-rehearsed, dialogue and character appear rote learnt. As the production progresses, however, it becomes clear that she has perfectly and stylistically drawn Claudia into the narcissistic, man-loathing (come on, we’re not fooled, it’s Honor she’s really after) careerist that she is. Her staccato performance is then, perhaps, purposeful. The actor stands outside of her role in order to best highlight the contrivances of the character; this is not a real person but a caricature of one. I’m convinced this approach could work, however, the other performances are too steeped in naturalism (at times brilliantly so — Yael Stone has some lovely moments) for it to work here. Both Hughes and Zappa are solid as Honor and George. Michael Scott-Mitchell’s wooden set is beautiful (likewise the costuming from Alice Babidge, lighting from Damien Cooper and sound design from Paul Charlier), and Lewis’s staging around it bespeaks the interconnected intimacy of the tragedy/triumph of the situation. Honour has all the slickness everyone expects from the Sydney Theatre Company. In the end Honor is rewarded for her wifely service, Claudia is punished for her self-serving seductiveness, Sophie — too pampered to know true heartache (and thus creativity) — is destined to remain a disappointment to her father and George remains just another sorry old man. Murray-Smith has no doubt observed her characters in life many times (who hasn’t these days?) and her play, and this performance of it, is funny and evocative. While she is never cruel, her sharp tongue and quick wit cloud her compassion and I, for one, remain more hopeful about human relationships. But maybe I am just naive. See it and make up your own mind. Tickets are $30 if you are under 30.
Had the team behind Glow lived during the middle ages, they'd have been burnt at the stake for extreme witchcraft. There's no way that such a visually-engaging, magical show can be anything but the result of a pact with the devil. Glow is the story of a "loser": an ordinary man living a boring life that, behind the scenes, is peppered with all manner of whimsical fantasies. As you can imagine, he ends up meeting the love of his life, overcomes oppression in the form of his nasty boss and discovers that he's a hero through and through. While the story itself is fairly straightforward, the major draw is the amazing technical puppetry that creates a world very reminiscent of Avatar (minus the blue aliens and Pocahontas overtones). https://youtube.com/watch?v=OPVUPPcub_c
The word 'meteoric' is bandied around quite liberally in the music industry, but the Temper Trap's upward trajectory definitely deserves the term bestowed upon it. I remember seeing them play in the little bat cave known as Candy's Apartment: they were noticeably good. Singer Dougy had a very unique voice that stood out from the average indie-rock belter, and the rest of the band were great to watch, with songs beyond run-of-the-mill pop/rock. They polished all the good bits on the debut album — Dougies voice, Lorenzo's chiming guitars, stripped back bass and drums — until they sounded like a huge band. They must have been listening to U2 or Simple Minds — big 80's New Romantic stuff — and, like Kings Of Leon, stumbled upon the reverb box. It sounded like they were destined to play stadiums. Fast forward a bit and now they are playing stadiums. After whipping up a frenzy in the UK, they are about to come back to Aus to do their first 'we are a massive band' tour. They have sold out their hometown Festival Hall, so get your arse to the cash machine and get your tickets for the Hordern. https://youtube.com/watch?v=vN7HQrgakZU
A lot of strategies exist for vintage shopping — closing your eyes and feeling for fabrics that won't give you hives, going to wealthy suburbs, having a good tailor, saved searches all over the internet, pure persistence — to which can be added: getting a collection of inner-city fashion kids to drag the spoils of their curated closets into the top floor of a graffiti-stairwelled, warehouse-apartment hipster-hideout and rummaging through it. Hibernian House, host to art spaces, film nights, pop-up sales and parties you don't remember, now has a regular vintage sale put together by SixOhOne, the occupants of the top floor. The eyrie roomful of racks of mens' and ladies' clothes is replenished daily, tagged for provenance so you get extra anecdote value and gently priced at an average of $20 or so with single-figure accessories. Given the multiple contributors, you get all the disparate styles, periods and sizes of op-shopping, alongside the coherence and elimination of hopeless pieces that pricier vintage affords. The homey venue has a musical selection that encourage sashays in your items of choice/ridicule and a couch for the paraded-out to flop on. It's cash only (but close to an ATM) and use of public transport is encouraged.
Tucked away in a quiet corner of Chippendale, the White Rabbit Gallery is impossible to miss: just follow the bicycles of Sydney's cool kid art crowd which constantly flow to and from its doors. Filled to the brim with celestial and provocative treasures, this four-level art space is currently the largest private gallery in Sydney. Plus, the library and tearoom both feature delicious treats. If that's not reason enough to make an excursion, the first Sunday of every month features a film club in the gallery's theatrette, showcasing the best that Chinese cinema has to offer. April's is Hero, the hugely expensive film that took almost two years to appear in English (courtesy of Quentin Tarantino). The colour-based cinematography of the film, which helps to trace different character versions of the plot, is singularly perfect for a gallery space, while the fight scenes are completely out of this world. Not to mention the screening is free; Perfect for a lazy Sunday afternoon. Look out for: To Live (Zhang Yimou, 1994) on 2 May Eat Drink, Man Woman (Ang Lee, 1994) on 6 June Farewell, My Concubine (Chen Kaige, 1993) on 4 July https://youtube.com/watch?v=hv3u8-Mq08Q
This year the annual exhibition carriageARTworks is the venue for the closing celebration of Sydney’s inaugural Art Month. Curated by a panel that includes last year’s Archibald winner, Guy Maestri, the show brings together artist-run initiatives and galleries — including Black & Blue Gallery, Factory 49, May Street Studios and NG Art Gallery — to present “original and evocative works of art from Sydney’s fringe”. See artists like Anna Tow, a Sydney-based animator and artist at Lennox Street Studios, present the creepily sweet How Happily I Ride My Bike, while Jane Gillings turns the ordinary into the extraordinary with her coat hanger–constructed chandelier, Falling From Grace, and Yiwon Park, represented by Sheffer Gallery, deconstructs the body Frida Kahlo–style in My Beautiful Pelvis and other works. The show makes fantastic use of the converted rail carriage space and will be supported by a program of talks and panel discussions. For an exhibition walk and talk, head down to CarriageWorks on 3 or 15 April, and to find out if contemporary art is ingenious or irrelevant join the panel discussion on 17 April. Image: Jane Gillings, Falling from Grace.
You don't have to be part of the blue rinse brigade to take part in NSW Seniors Week. Really. You can just rock on over to Dendy Opera Quays and catch up on some classic cinema and a couple of contemporary gems. Charlie Chaplin's Modern Times (1936) kicks off the program, and it's a must see for any film fan. This is followed by The Boot Cake (2008), a wonderful Australian documentary that looks at Chaplin's prevailing influence and inspiration on a small Indian village (filmmaker Kathryn Millard will be present for a Q&A). More Australian films are screening in the 'Tough Sheilas' section. Noni Hazlehurst gets feisty in the titular role as single mum Fran (1985), while Helen Morse takes the lead in Caddie (1976), alongside Jack Thompson and Jackie Weaver, in a compelling portrait of a woman struggling for independence in Depression-era Australia. Another female-focused Donald Crombie film, The Killing of Angel Street (1981) is also screening, with the director taking part in Q&As for both films. Other old favourites include a focus on Vincente Minnelli with the Judy Garland classic Meet Me In St Louis (1944) and Fred Astaire in The Band Wagon (1953), while music fans can also delight in the 1970 documentary Elvis: That's the Way It Is. Finally, two films that capture what it is to be young at heart. In an Australian premiere screening, Ms. Senior Sweetheart (2009) is a delightful documentary that follows three energetic retirees taking part in a beauty pageant. And the festival will close with an advance screening of The Last Station (2009), the Academy Award–nominated look at the life of revered novelist Leo Tolstoy (Christopher Plummer) and his 50-year marriage to the spirited Countess Sofya (Helen Mirren). Tickets are selling fast, so take a look at the full program and prepare to be entertained by your elders. https://youtube.com/watch?v=bTh-vQho7UU
It’s a one night stand, all types welcome. Unless your name is Times New Roman, Brush Script, Curlz or Comic Sans. Then you’re a slut, and who knows what kind of viruses you might be carrying. Go Font Ur Self* is a shamelessly exclusive celebration of typography as wrought by artists and designers, not by Word. They say: “Outside the bounds of traditional typesetting, and beyond the scope of familiar media, letters can become the source of experimentation, taking on a personality of their very own.” Anyone who has watched Sesame Street knows that. Chapter 4’s contributors include: Raza Uno, toting a paletteful of Benday dots from Venezuela; the psychedelic slopey word sculptures of Sarah A. King; a man who enjoys clean lines and balancing positive and negative space, Adrian Gray; the trippy Disney mutations of Super Expresso from Spain; tattoo artist Rob Abel; and locals Blends, Yok, Saynt, all with backgrounds in the original gallery for original typography, the street. Unfortunately, this font won't be going. Image by Sarah A. King.
Melbourne gypsy-jazz seven piece Barons of Tang are back in Sydney to drop in to our favourite warehouse (that hasn't been closed down yet, unlike Quirkz), the Red Rattler. It is set to be a bit of a feast for anyone that likes their music with a dash of strange. Your squeezebox will be collectively pressed by a lineup including Toy Death, who take sounds from hand modified toys including talking Barbies and Speak & Spells, and Darth Vegas, who make a fucked up Rock n' Roll pastiche of everything from the 1920s onwards, in addition to the gypsy-death-core (their term) of the Barons. Just back from some shows at Adelaide Fringe and the Karavan International Gypsy Festival, where they played with the masters of gypsy punk, VulgarGrad, the Barons have been hyped as one of the best performers around, receiving great reviews and praise for their crazy live shows and becoming festival favourites around the country. Check them out at the Rat.
I remember instantly liking Hungry Kids Of Hungary. Their name is delightfully stupid but it demands your attention and makes you want to have a listen. Well, it's worked for them and they have been climbing the spiral staircase of the Aus music industry, starting with a Triple J unearthing, then co-headline shows with Philadelphia Grand Jury and Washington, and finally their own headlines and big festival appearances. Their music is as poppy as their name suggests it should be, with lovely arrangements and glistening harmonies. There is a bit of AM radio in there, as if they have been listening to the Brisbane equivalent of 101.7FM, studying the masters of cheese, adding a little bit of Bacharach and then mixing it up with some Belle and Sebastian or Vampire Weekend ideas and their own quirky swagger. They have released a string of singles and last year put out their second EP, Mega Mountain. Their latest single 'Let You Down' is out now and they are celebrating with the Air Sick Tour before they jaunt overseas for the first time. They have also assembled a nice cast of supports with Sydney's Ernest Ellis and Boy & Bear adding their takes on melodic, folk-inspired rock, which fills out the lineup very nicely for a great night of music. https://youtube.com/watch?v=_NHYplm6S1E
You awaken in a candy pink room, on a soiled bed where a corner of the mattress has burned open into a charred gash. Here you are febrile and filthy with curdled dreams. Mad soldiers share your sweat-soaked sheets, their pallid flesh spoiled by unhealing wounds and they wear little more than dog tags to set continuity amongst their shattered personalities. This is how Argos, once great city of Ancient Greece, punishes its matricides. Taking Euripides' model of the Orestes tale, author Charles Mee has injected the war-weary politics of the late twentieth century into this epic of a royal family devouring itself like a rabid dog at its own rectum. The result is Orestes 2.0, a throbbing, challenging piece of work that has the potential to awaken its audience to particular blemishes upon the rosy cheeks of Western culture. That nascent theatre company Cry Havoc have undertaken this as their second production is a testament to their passion and tenacity for bringing demanding theatre to the mainstage. Director Kate Revz and designer Lucilla Smith have developed a strong conceptual setting for this production, drawing upon the gaudy glam of David LaChapelle for Orestes' nightmarish sanitarium-scape. The Furies, three ferocious spirits of revenge, are translated into sexed-up nurses, their outfits tight and revealing, while the power players of the tragedy have raided Sylvania Waters for their wardrobe. It's a style so tasty you'd want to lick it, though you won't, because you'll probably end up with tongue herpes. While Caitlin Porter's sound design played well amongst the convulsive mood shifts of Mee's script, Billy Cheeseman's lighting design often resorted to bathing the entire stage in a uniform wash that, for me, dropped the intensity of this production. The contours, colours and surfaces of the playing space cried out for more interrogating lights — though perhaps this choice came as a result of LaChapelle's own blazing photography, in which case I think his influence should have been turned down here. The bright gloss of the lights was reflected in the performances of the cast, and it is here that the juggling act of Mee's script really became difficult. There is a necessity when oscillating between dialogue, monologue, verbatim transcript, dream sequences and absurdist exchanges to strive for clarity, otherwise the audience will be completely lost. Most performers maintained the clarity of their roles through a clear, well-enunciated delivery (Helmut Bakaitis' diction alone is worthy of a solo show), however this came at a cost to the darker soul of the script. Though Orestes (Guy Edmonds) and Electra (Annie Maynard) had the convincing energy of two desperate killers, I felt as if they were still playing safe — their performances came to the lip of a precipice, but did not leap into the abyss beyond it. In contrast, the grim humour of Mee's script was executed effectively, especially through the roles of Pylades (Anthony Gooley) and the Nurses (Gemma Pranita, Olivia Stambouliah and Elan Zavelsky). Thus, through clarity and humour, the audience was kept safe from the true force of madness and fury lying beneath the surface of Orestes 2.0. I believe that this production, coupled with the earlier Julius Caesar, is a foreshadowing of Cry Havoc's capabilities as an exciting new flavour in Sydney's theatre mix. I look forward to seeing Revz and her team raise the ante in their next production, Chekhov's Three Sisters. https://youtube.com/watch?v=K_s8QvOKNEA
Multimillionaire Dicky Branson didn't give up the cash; instead, the normal wage-enslaved, music-loving proletariat, you, and Sydney's bands saved FBi radio by donating money and time to the station last year. The battle was won, but the war to keep FBi on air continues. The fine folk at the station are starting up a new night called Sydney Spawn, which will put our fine harbour city's best and brightest bands on stage for a meager tenner (proceeds going to the station). The kick-off lineup looks pretty mouthwatering with lo-fi psych punks Ripping Dylans, swampy-moody rockers the Maladies, tribal jam band Megastick Fanfare, Des Miller's the Magnetic Heads, and Line Drawings, as well as FBi's own DJs. Also adding to the pure furor will be the fact that bands can bring their demos and give them to the FBi bigwigs, who will then play them on the radio if they like them. So get down to the 'Dale and support your independent, community-based station.
They’ve asked us not to get the creepy-crawlies about this being the thirteenth Penguin Plays Rough. They’d probably ask us not to use the term ‘creepy-crawly’ either, because that’s a cliché and so hated by good writers. There will be a few of those on offer come Monday night, as usual throwing words from the coffee table. Amelia Schmidt, who has the cutest red curls ever, tells us, “I am reading something I have or have not written, which is either deeply moving or rather gruesome, and probably quite long and I will try to read the pages in the right order this time.” We’ve got our fingers crossed for rather gruesome, medium length, with some page-muddling for kicks. Shag, who possibly also has curly-ish hair and is the cutest, says “I'll be reading out why I wrote a song that the Mountain Goats wrote — no exhaustive knowledge of the Mountain Goats required.” Zoe Combs Marr, who sports a gentle kick in her hair, is keeping mum on her material, perhaps believing more in the thirteenth jinx than the others. Instead, she promises to blow your mind “through an explosion of razor-sharp wit and sardonic whimsy with a sprinkling of social commentary. All served with a side of surreal observations and self-deprecating animal puns.” Yowzers indeed. Will the animal puns be about goats also? Or penguins? Eddie Sharp, Sam Twyford-Moore, and Nick Sun will also be reading. And Penguin Plays Rough has said the floor is freshly vacuumed, so really, the chance of creepy-crawlies is low.
As a writer, I’ve always thought of letters and words as something to be used the way a painter might use paint or a sculptor might use clay or a craftsman might use Clag. Words are too often seen as purely functional, taken for granted as devices for basic communication: 'stop', 'go', 'do not leave food out or you may be devoured by bears' and so on. But a writer sees words as a medium for artistic expression — every verb, adjective and noun considered for its beauty, poetry and relevance in the creation of meaning. An extension of this idea would be to completely delineate typography and utilise it, quite literally, as art. Within the realm of visual art, unrestricted by coherency or legibility, typeface knows no bounds and the artist is free to deconstruct its literal meaning and use it symbolically or for pure aesthetic. And that’s exactly what the international artists, designers and typographers taking part in the touring exhibition Go Font Ur Self* have done. Hailing from every corner of the globe, over 50 artists have taken part in the four chapters of this homage to the humble letter, and this time around The Roller space in Sydney will be hosting the fifth. Sponsored by Kirin, this latest installment of Go Font Ur Self showcases a series of works by over 13 individual artists and collectives who each present their own unique interpretation of everyday type. From kooky graphics to sophisticated design, these artists free words from the tired duty of making sense and allow them to frolic over canvases with careless abandon. The alphabet hasn’t had so much fun since Heinz made it a soup. Image by Jeremyville.
Thus far, 2010 has been the year ‘90s hip hop made a comeback, with Salt-N-Pepa, Naughty by Nature, Missy Elliot and Beastie Boy MixMaster Mike all dusting off their mics/decks for a visit Down Under. But while all these comeback tours seem like somewhat of a fad, something tells me that A Tribe Called Quest’s first-ever tour of Australia is going to be pretty epic. The first reason is that they’re here in their entirety; there’s no random collaboration between DJ and rapper, you get the original package as formed at high school in Queens, New York back in the '80s: DJ Ali Shaheed Muhammad, Kamaal Ibn John Fareed (alias Q-Tip) and Malik 'Phife Dawg' Taylor. The second reason is there is no new album to push: this is their 20th Anniversary Tour, so you’re pretty much guaranteed to hear all your old favourites, such as ‘Can I Kick It’, ‘Bonita Applebum’ and ‘I Left My Wallet in El Segundo’. Third, these guys really pushed the boundaries back in the day, infusing abstract jazz with Afro-centric beats to create a sound that remains unique to this day. During the ‘90s, they provided an articulate alternative to egocentric gangsta rap — and paved the way for fellow humble hip hop artists like Jurassic Five and the Roots. Finally, and for all you ladies, rapper/producer Q-Tip has hands-down the sexiest voice in hip hop history, and if his recent solo recordings are anything to go by, he’s still got it. So, can you kick it? Yes you can. Tickets go on sale on Monday, June 21, at 9am.
No matter the weather, Melbourne's Crayon Fields are an instant clearing of the clouds. Good vibrations taking a sunbath, and if you peel away the initial innocence, probably a skinny dip to follow. The slight incongruity of their sound to their era, with nods to luminaries such as Dennis Wilson and the Zombies, makes what they do all the more compelling. It's intricate pop without the usual tell-tale traces of cloying '60s revivalism. As lead singer, guitarist, songwriter and general wunderkind (he makes their film clips, too) Geoff O'Connor steps further out of the shadows with each release, the light gets a little brighter. O'Connor's soft voice, often anchored by layers of atmospheric wash, has a habit of lulling one into a false sense of security before realising his lyrical content. You may also know his side-project Sly Hats. Live, the band brings a certain kind of familiarity and goofiness to the otherwise polished sound, and lucky for all, they're putting in an appearance at Oxford Art Factory, with Parades and Step-Panther in support.
