This year I set myself the mammoth task of seeing as much of the 2008 Melbourne International Arts Festival as humanly possible. Sadly I fell well short of these grand expectations attending a mere eight festival shows out of a potential 60 plus events. But then – as arts commentators remind us – the festival experience is about quality not quantity.
My festival journey began with Barrie Kosky’s staging of Edgar Allan Poe’s short story, The Tell-Tale Heart. Poe is credited with inventing the crime thriller and his morbid tale of an insane stalker who chops up an elder man and stores the body under the floorboards got the strip back Kosky treatment.
The single actor (Martin Niedermair) recited Poe’s lush gothic text seated on a steep floor to ceiling staircase. At one opportune moment, capitalising on the spooky tension, he scaled the stairs like a Huntsman spider even appearing hanging upside down.
Meanwhile, Kosky tinkled the ivories of a sturdy upright, shadowing the ebb and flow of Niedermair’s often-staccato delivery, sometimes conducting the proceedings (he is after all the show’s Director), other times obediently following. It was all really quiet dynamic, though not so much scary as intriguing. Come to think of it, there were even a few pretty style songs scattered throughout. Sondheim would have been pleased. This production had all the qualities of Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street, minus the meat pies.
The Temptation of Saint Anthony, by Robert Wilson and Bernice Johnson Reagon was the second show on my festival soirée. Almost the exact opposite of Tell-Tale Heat this gospel rock opera was inspired by Gustave Flaubert’s 19th century novel of the same name. It’s a deeply religious story about, well, earthly temptations as experience by Saint Tony and the redemptive appeal of god. Actually that’s far too simplistic – not so much a Family First maiden speech as an excuse to get down and shake some series booty.
All praise the goddess of the song and long may she reign. This production is in part the love child of a cappella choir, Sweet Honey In the Rock. Bernice Johnson Reagon founded Sweet Honey and brings her music savvy to The Temptation, in collaboration with conceptual director Robert Wilson. A powerful creative duo out to woo with rousing, arm waving song and some gorgeous eye candy staging. I can assure you – I wasn’t the only bony ass white sister humming along in the stalls.
From the church of Saint Anthony it was over to the North Melbourne Meat Market for a mid week concert by Korean ensemble, Gong Myoung. Nifty two-sided drums, chimes, cymbals and other percussive paraphernalia, a didgeridoo, at least two guitar, a mouth organ, even a wooden flute – but a few of the instruments that fell under the spell of these four Korean lads. Such passion, particularly during the drumming sequences is rarely seen in the bluestone suburb that is North Melbourne – except maybe at Queen Victoria Market with a particularly volatile crate of over ripe stone fruit and less than half an hour to sell the lot. Now that’s passion. Harness the vocal might of those spruiking fruitier and you’d really have a festival show.
I have to confess I left Gong Myoung during the interval, satisfied with the banging and clanging I’d heard. I apologise to Korea for any offence taken but this really wasn’t my cup of green tea.
Which is strange because that very weekend I took the Laurie Anderson challenge and trundled off to her latest creation, Homeland. Anyone familiar with Anderson’s expansive repertoire will know that this US Madame is not averse to revelling in a few minor chords. I wonder if she got the chance to jam with the Gong Myoung boys. It could have been the perfect fit.
That said, Anderson loves nothing better than to pepper her music with half spoken, half sung words – great poetic orations that take on politics and the banality of modern day living. Little escapes this lady’s ear: the Iraq war (‘they keep on calling em up, calling em up, calling em up’ she chants), obese children, double talk-politicians (who consult the experts who’ve consulted the experts), even the ghost of her father. I’ll be buggered how all this mumble jumble music workshop therapy comes together. But come together it does and in spectacular fashion. The Melbourne Concert Hall was full to the brim with all manner of arty types, so I feel very secure saying I adore Laurie. Love her twisted take on the world. Love it. Don’t always understand it but love it.
Two of the tougher pieces on my 2008 Festival dance card were the all male Japanese Butoh styled, Kagemi by Ushio Amagatsu’s Sankai Juku dance troupe and the Merce Cunningham Dance Company program A tryptic, Suite For Five, eyespace and BIPED. Both dance companies approach their work with the dedication of Benedictine monk. In Kagemi the dancers cake their bodies in white clay and meditate every gesture as if wary the impact of a misplace twitch on the destiny of the entire universe. It was slow and quiet and very beautiful, sucking you into the sacred space that is the stage. Think Priscilla minus the lurid colours, catchy tunes and false eye lashes. The one prop on the Kagemi stage was a field of wire suspended water lilies and for most of the show they floated aloft like majestic umbrellas.
Merce Cunningham’s dancers approach their craft with similar concentration and simplicity as the Butoh boys. Mr Cunningham, now well into his eighties actually travelled to Melbourne for a festival residency. The night I saw his Program A, Merce even took a bow centre stage, albeit in his wheel chair. The applause was thunderous. Like many a queen in the audience I gave the old dear an ovation and for a brief moment all was forgiven. I forgave him for the confusion (translates boredom) I experienced during much of his dance.
Call me old fashioned but a ballet without a tutu just ain’t right. Though I’m hardly one to talk. Dancing has never been my strength. Sorry Merce – I stopped dancing when the disco floors stopped lighting up and frankly I just don’t get the whole minimalist abstract thing. But thanks for coming to town and thanks for sticking to your guns all these years in the face of ignorant critic who wouldn’t know their ass from their elbow.
Kiki and Herb also made it into my festival journey. They’re both fabulous. Enough said.
All in all it was a grand Arts Festival. Well done Kristy. Maybe some big Broadway talent next year? Wondering what Liza is doing…
www.kayesera.com
by KAYE SERA
