Theatre Australia 2(11) June 1978 by UOW Library

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June 1978 $ 1.50

itralia’s magazine of the performing arts

theatre Australia! Alex Buzo’s Anniversary Subsidy and Commercialism Alternative Adelaide Bruce Barrv

Comprehensive Review Section including film, ballet, opera, records, books, National Guide.

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NIMROD Until Saturday 3 June Nimrod Downstairs

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Until Sunday 18 June Nimrod Upstairs

The-j£omedy ofErrors

a cabaret

William Shakespeare

Robyn Archer John Gaden Sharon Raschke Jerry Wesley director Ken Horler backdrop Martin Sharp costumes Rosalind Ward cartoons Patrick Cook ‘Very polished, savage and powerful’ — The Bulletin ‘It could run for ever’ — Sunday Telegraph

director John Bell set Larry Eastwood costumes Vicki Feitscher lighting David Read Maggie Blinco Robert Davis Maggie Dence Drew Forsythe Robert Hewett Malcolm Keith Elizabeth Lancaster Robert Levis John McTernan Tony Sheldon Henri Szeps Anna Volska ‘A jeu d’esprit of almost unalloyed delight’ — Sydney Morning Herald

from Saturday 24 June Nimrod Upstairs

May Fair Theatre London

H E N R Y IV

Rirts One and Two

William Shakespeare

director Richard Wherrett designer Tom Lingwood John Bell Aileen Britton Peter Carroll Drew Forsythe Ron Hackett Alexander Hay Robert Hewett Norman Kaye John McTernan Tony Sheldon George Shevtsov Mary-Lou Stewart Frank Wilson

from Saturday 19 August Nimrod Upstairs

GodortChaler

T he Elocution of Benjam in Franklin

Steve J. Spears

director Richard Wherrett designer Larry Eastwood ‘Brilliant’ — Evening News ‘Spellbinding’ — The Observer ‘Hilarious’ — Evening Standard Now over 500 performances!

from Friday 18 August Canberra Theatre Centre from Monday 28 August Orange Civic Theatre Tuesday 5 — Saturday 30 September Theatre Royal Sydney

Alex Buzo director Ken Horler designer Wendy Dixon Cast to be announced.

David Williamson director John Bell designer Tom Bannerman Jeff Ashby Drew Forsythe Ron Graham Ron Haddrick Ivar Kants Barry Lovett Now over 100 performances!

T h eatre

A u stralia

Departments

2 3 4 5 20 50

Comment Quotes and Queries Letters Whispers, Rumours and Facts I.T.I. Roundup Guide: Theatre, Opera, Dance

Spotlight

7 10

Frank Hauser interviewd by Ray Stanley Bruce Barry talks to Barry Eaton

Features

8 11 14 16

Designing Minds Alternative Adelaide — Frank Ford Subsidy and Commercialism — The Profit Stage Organised Niceness — Kirsten Blanch talks to Alex Buzo

International

Polarities in German Productions — Michael Morley

Playscript

Don’t Piddle Against The Wind, Mate — Act II, Kenneth Ross

Dance

William Shoubridge

Opera

Ten and Thirty Years On — David Gyger

Theatre Reviews

VIC

June 1978 Volume 2 No. 11

The Beaux Stratagem — Raymond Stanley True Romances — Jack Hibberd 23

NSW

The Misanthrope — Lucy Wagner Journey’s End and Romeo & Juliet — Greg Curran Comedy o f Errors — Robert Page 26

1 + 2 Henry IV by William Shakespeare — Tony Baker Gents — Michael Morely 27

Doubling Up — Cliff Gillam Greenroom G 's and Gaucheries — Cliff Gillam 29

QLD

In Praise o f Love — Don Batchelor Records

Roger Covell

Film

Elizabeth Riddell

Books

John McCallum

Theatre Opera Dance

G uiderà 0

Theatre Australia

Editor: Executive Editor: Manager:

Robert Page Lucy Wagner Jaki Gothard

Advisory Board:

If the Reader Survey is anything to go by, Theatre Australia would appear to enjoy a very good relationship with its readers. Not that all of the comments were pats on the back, but bar a few barbed remarks {though non unprintable!) the vast majority were constructive and positive, genuinely looking to the best interests of all. The response to the present format and monthly frequency was overwhelmingly (both over eighty per cent) to maintain the magazine as it is. The second choice of format, newsprint with a colour cover, and regularity, bi-monthly, both earned only sixteen per cent. The basic structure of the magazine into reviews and articles scored equally as main reasons for buying the magazine with proportionately less for the satellite areas of the regular departments and Quotes and Queries, Comment, etc. Of the subject matter for feature articles, it was a surprise to find that though readers were most interested in personalities (actors, writers, directors) with an equal but lesser concern for background on companies and historical articles, less than a quarter were in favour of lighter material. Many, though, picked up the typographical error — it should of course have instanced “Where Actors Eat”, not “Where Actors Act”. Many magazine publishers have suggested TA move closer to a TV limes approach to expand readership, but it would seem that such a change in policy would lose the majority of the readers we have who are obviously more seriously inclined. Having laboured over an editorial now for the nineteenth time it is very gratifying to learn that over sixty per cent put the Comment column as their favourite department. Shucks, you mean you read all this? Next in line — though as someone pointed out, not in terms of interest but information — came the Guide. A goodly portion of readers, though, are still, it seems, receiving their magazines late in the month, reducing the importance of the listing from a what’s on to a what was on. Rest assured that steps are being taken to remedy the situation. Well over half the readers thought the playscript and international sections to have an important place in the magazine, with many adding comments of enthusiasm for both these areas. Though a lesser percentage are concerned for record and book reviews, those that are, again judging by appended notes, are ardent that they remain and if anything are expanded. The very title of the magazine seems to dictate that readers should find their main interest in theatre, and indeed a ninety nine per cent vote showed this to be the case. However the term theatre derives from the Greek word for a seeing place; it is in that general sense that it is used here, and under that umbrella that film can be included (books and records are then a bit more difficult to justify — one must be allowed some leeway). Indeed many people did tick more than one box and certainly there seems to be strong interest in keeping the net wide enough to include the other perform ing arts.

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

dance/ballet, opera and of course the film reviews. But some are dyed in the wool theatre enthusiasts; when asked what they would like to see more of whatever (intended to mean despite) their main interest many again ticked the box marked theatre! To give them their way without expanding the magazine, which financial restraints preclude, would necessitate dropping or contracting other areas, yet more would like to see an expansion of film, a quarter an expansion of dance, a sixth an expansion of opera. Perhaps the present balance isn't too undemocratic; though we will be looking to include extra feature articles now and then on each of these regular areas, especially film. Where the survey is concerned, obviously, with taking a look at the magazine as it is, the comments noted at the end provided greater insight into the sins of ommission or neglect — and, pleasingly, an opportunity for praise of its virtues. Many are concerned with drama in education in all aspects from the professional TIE teams who go out to the schools, to the teaching of drama at secondary, tertiary and special institution levels. As one person pointed out, the educational areas involves a special kind of subsidised theatre which the tax payer should be informed about. Our record in adequately reflecting the wealth of amateur theatre is not one to rest easy about, though excuses are easy to come by; information difficult to get, people involved near impossible to track down, issues that go beyond the immediate community in which groups work few, and so on. Certainly, as many pointed out, a large number of the pros cut their teeth on its (and educational) stages, and it cannot be ignored. Send suggestions on a postcard to... Under the same heading come the many small and largely amateur groups working out in the country areas, bringing theatre to settlements where otherwise there would be none. The rise of the Riverina Trucking Company in Wagga has been mentioned in these pages, but more on other heroic struggles needs to be recorded. Nor can the dramatic activity of various ethnic groups be overlooked — the other half of our title refers to a nation with diverse racial roots. The experimental and fringe companies, mime artists, puppetry and clowning, administration and technical matters are all topics brought up in the survey. They have to a greater or lesser degree received coverage in the past and require continuing reportage. Several people have put forward the idea of the readers of TA, a surprisingly large number of whom are not active in the performing arts, forming themselves into a society of friends in urban areas. If this were to get off the ground social evenings, discussions with directors, cheaper tickets to theatre, opera and ballet productions, could be negotiated. Once again, your response, to the Editorial Office please, is invited.

John Bell, Graeme Blundell, Ellen Braye, Katharine Brisbane, Vivian Chalwyn, Gordon Chater, John Clark, Michael Crosby, W.A. Enright, Jack Hibberd, Ken Horler, Garrie Hutchinson, Robert Jordan, Philip Mason, Stan Marks, Jake Newby, Phil Noyce, Raymond Omodei, Philip Parsons, Diana Sharpe, Ken Southgate, Raymond Stanley, Elizabeth Sweeting, Marlis Thiersch, John Timlin. Tony Trench, Guthrie Worby, Richard Wherrett. Advertising: Artist:

Jaki Gothard/Debbie Cockle Henry Cho

Correspon dents : N.S.W.: Vic..Qld.: W.A.: S.A.:

Editors (049) 67-4470 Raymond Stanley (03) 419-1204 Don Batchelor (07) 269-3018 Joan Ambrose (09) 299-6639 Michael Morley (08) 275-2204

Theatre Australia gratefully acknowledges the financial assistance of the Australia Council, the Literature Board of the Australia Council, the New South Wales Cultural Grants Board, the Arts Grants Advisory Committee of South Australia, the Queensland Cultural Activities Department, the Victorian Ministry of the Arts, The Western Australian Arts Council and the Assistance of the University of Newcastle. Manuscripts:

Manuscripts and editorial correspondence should be forwarded to the editorial office, 80 Elizabeth Street, Mayfield, NSW 2304. Telephone (049) 67-4470. Whilst every care is taken of manuscripts and visual material supplied for this magazine, the publishers and their agents accept no liability for loss or damage which may occur. Unsolicited manuscripts and visual material will not be returned unless accompanied by a stamped addressed envelope. Opinions expressed in signed articles are not necessarily those of the editors. Subscriptions and Advertising:

The subscription rate is $18.00 post free within Australia. Cheques should be made payable to Theatre Australia and posted to the publisher’s address. For advertising information contact Jaki Gothard/ Debbie Cockle — Sydney Office (02) 27-4028, 6th Floor, 29 Reiby Place, Sydney, NSW 2000.

Theatre Australia is published by Theatre Publications Ltd., 80 Elizabeth Street, Mayfield, NSW 2304. Telephone (049) 67-4470. Distributed by subscription and through theatre foyers etc. by Theatre Publications Ltd., and to newsagents throughout Australia by Gordon and Gotch (A'asia) Ltd., Melbourne, Sydney. Wholly Set up by Tell & Sell Promotions, printed in Australia by Leader Publishing House. €. Theatre Publications Ltd. All rights reserved except where specified. The cover price is maximum recommended retail price only. Registered for posting as a periodical — category B.

NEW TRIBUTARY A L E X M U L LE R

Neil Fitzpatrick as Marx in the South Australian Theatre Company’s Marx. Illustration by Stephen Graham.

QUEENSLAND QUERY When a company announces a change in its publicised season, hasn’t there got to be more to it than Alan Edwards’ statement to the press that he has found a “better and more pertinent” play than Steve Spears’ King Richard in Patrick White’s Big Toys? The announcement came shortly after a pretty large change around of member on the QTC board, and also, was it by sheer co incidence?, not long after Steve Spears had made some rath er radical statem ents in The Australian about what he thought ought to be done to Malcolm Fraser. Spears’ King Richard involves political collusion between politicians and a criminal union leader; Patrick White’s involves that between a barrister and (again) a union leader. Is the bar further removed from the professions of the new Board members — or perhaps from Bjelke Petersen’s own — or are they less disturbed by the uranium than the corruption issue? Apparently Patrick White himself is none too happy that his play should be used as a pawn in the game of national controversy, or that his should be second best to boot. With Tom Newberry, the new minister for cultural affairs, avowedly out to suppress four letter words (even in plays like The Club\) it looks like a demonstration is needed to keep Queensland theatre unshackled from censorship. But then even peaceful demonstrations are banned in that state, aren’t they?

Kitty Howard, which will be having a week’s run at Russell Street Theatre as part of the MTC’s Tributary Productions, is my first attempt at writing for the stage. The play has a lot to do with the end response of a strong and able person to a long wearing period of petty frustration. In Kitty’s case she comes out shooting. I didn’t know for sure what was going to happen until I reached the last few lines of the play, but I felt with her every inch of the way. Sure, her decision to assassinate the King of Moomba may seem bizarre and possibly insane. It didn’t seem like that to me when I wrote it. It seemed the only appropriate decision for her to take. Kitty Howard groups, for me, and offers a degree of dramatic resolution to, themes that I’ve ranged over for years in several unpublished novels. But whatever the case, Kitty asks more questions in the end than she attempts to answer — except the big one, of course, and she answers that one for herself.

L U M E R , P re sid e n t,

MARX AT OUR FEET RON BLA IR writes about his play Marx which will be directed by Colin George for the South Australian Theatre Company at the Playhouse. “A friend gave me a copy of Edmund Wilson’s To The Finland Station for Christmas about 1971. I found the chapters on Karl Marx absolutely absorbing. Here was a man of great strength and sense of purpose; no matter what disasters befell him, he could not be deflected. I read many books about and by him, and then put them all away. Seven years later I have written a play, about the man and his life in Soho in 1850-1. When I told Peter Kenna of my plan at the last Playwright’s Conference he looked horrified. I knew what he was thinking. All I could say was: “Not all our best plays are found right under our feet”.

JUST LIKE THE OLD DAYS

PLAYLAB PROMOTIONS RODNEY

by Paul Codings. We hope these quality playscripts at reasonable prices will reach the professional and amateur market as well as colleges, universities and schools, and children’s theatre.”

P la y la b

C O R A LIE

W OOD,

Coogee

Com edy

(Q u een sla n d P la y w rig h ts ’ La bo ra to ry)

T h e a tre R e sta u ra n t.

“Playlab has been in existence now for six years; it was started by Barbara Stellmach whose plays are constantly being performed by Little Theatre throughout Australia. The aim was to assist budding playwrights in their craft by assessing playscripts and, where these or the playwright showed promise, arranging a rehearsed reading with experienced actors, a director and dramaturg to allow the playwright to work on the script under laboratory conditions. Hence, Playlab. We have been working on two projects recently, in order to break the vicious circle of producers not presenting unpublished plays and publishers not printing unproduced plays. Firstly we are going into the promotions field; two new plays — The Kiss by Jackie McKimmie and Vacancy by Ron Hamilton — are being presented by Playlab at the Arts Theatre, Brisbane in May, directed by Joe MacCollum and Beth Prescott respectively. And now we have launched Playlab Press, a new publishing house to serve the Australian playwright. Three volumes have been produced since April; Treadmillby Lorna Bol, The Bottom o f a Birdcage by Helen Haenks and “Two OneAct Plays” which are Vacancy, and Churchyard

“We started four and a half years ago in Canberra with a production of Dimboola that was supposed to run for three weeks. We went on to use the Hibiscus Theatre Restaurant which was unfortunately sold at the beginning of the year, and now we’re at the Tivoli Theatre Restaurant at the Park Royal Motor Inn. But we just happened to find a place in Sydney which is now all our own; it’s called Stones and used to be a milk bar and coffee lounge. (Their most expensive drink was fruit cocktail at l/6d!) Every Sunday the Stones used to open it for entertainers; Mrs Stones would play the piano and anyone who cared to could get up and sing. The Managing Director of the Weekly Courier was there the night war was declared! All sorts of people started off there, it seems; Bill Shady compered the show, and there was Nellie Small, Tassie Hamilton, Ronald Jackson (now with the Australian Opera, Bobby Limb, Johnny O’Connor, Bob Dyer and apparently even Frank Ifield used to sing there as a little boy. Mrs Stones’ son is still alive. Now we’re putting on Vaudeville Capers by Tikki and John, starring Harriet Fayne and Lester and Smart. It’s just like the old vaudeville days”. THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

Dear Sir, I have bought every issue of Theatre Australia since its inception even when your subscription department failed to post my copy. However unless you publish a retraction and an apology for the article on auditioning at NIDA contained in your April 1978 issue, I will have to cancel my subscription. In April 1976, I wrote congratulating you in your proposal to provide a badly needed magazine. In it I said: ‘I think I can speak for NIDA when I say that we wholeheartedly support the attempt of any qualified persons endeavouring to disseminate production information as well as providing a critical coverage of contemporary Australian Theatre.’ Theatre in Australia is still not in a healthy state and people in its various branches and activities need to support and trust each other if we are to see a genuinely vibrant theatre scene right across Australia. Having these convictions, it is most disturbing that you should publish an article which drags criticism to such a gutter level and accuses the NIDA acting staff of allowing personal, sexual and political bias to override their artistic judgement. Finally, the offending article has not only caused surprise and pain here, but has also caused the standing and motives of your magazine to be more than somewhat suspect. I remain, Yours faithfully, Peter Carmody, Lecturer in History of Theatre, The National Institute of Dramatic Art

APOLOGY We are sorry to hear that our friends at NIDA did not respond in the light hearted way intended to our article “But What About The Ingredients?” (April Issue) on their interview/audition procedures. The impression of interviewers were merely those of the writer and were not intended to carry any invidious imputations about any NIDA personnel or their adilities. The same goes for hints for hopeful candidates which should only be taken as an opinion (and certainly not in any sense endorsed by TA.)

Dear Sir, The enclosed article is intended to counter the appalling misinformation contained in But What About the Ingredients? (TA April 1978). 4

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

I am concerned always to improve the quality of our applicants since the future standards of our theatre will largely depend upon them. I hoped that you would support this and I am therefore amazed at your reasons for printing “Bea Starr’s” piece. Students and staff at NIDA ask you to redress the balance and attempt to repair some of the damage by printing the enclosed article in full. Yours sincerely, George Whaley, Head of the Acting Course, The National Institute of Dramatic Art.

NIDA AUDITIONS The unsuccessful applicant for the NIDA acting course, who wrote the article entitled But What About The Ingredients? (TA April, 1978), was one of seven hundred and fifty who were auditioned and interviewed for the twenty-four places available. We are therefore in danger o f making upwards of seven hundred enemies each year, and “Bea Starr’s” disappointment is understandable. But her distortion of the facts is not. The actual process is as follows, with some minor modifications in places other than Sydney: 1. Applicants are sent an application form which requires biographical details, an outline of acting experience if any, work history in whatever areas and a statement of personal objectives. A photograph and a $5 audition fee must accompany the form on its return to NIDA. 2. The applicant is then notified some weeks in advance of the time and place of the audition. Two prepared scenes are required and some suggested scenes are sent, along with specific descriptions of the audition process. 3. An anonymous questionnaire which is used for statistical purposes, and is neither compulsory nor a part of the assessment is sent, and applicants are asked to return it by the day of the audition. By this means we hope to gather data over a number of years, which will enable us to more effectively reach potential students, and improve the quality of our applicants. 4. Approximately thirty applicants are called at 10am on the appointed day. After a short introductory talk where the audition is described in detail, where we again outline our requirements and where applicants’ questions are answered, a warm-up and relaxation session is conducted by NIDA students. This comprises physical routines and drama games. The

objective is to relax the applicants and prepare them for work. 5. The applicants are divided into two groups, each with at least two members of the acting staff and one or two students. Group and individual improvisations, movement exercises or sight reading may be required, and some time before lunch the first prepared scene is presented. Staff members may then suggest adjustments to the scene. 6. The two groups then change staff members and the same process is undertaken with the second prepared scene. Applicants then are individually interviewed. 7. Some applicants may be sent for further work to another staff member, if they have shown reasonable ability during stages 5 and 6. 8. At any point during 5, 6 and 7 an applicant may be asked to return for a second day of audition. This is done if we need to examine that person more closely. He or she may be asked to prepare another scene for their second audition. 9. After seven weeks of this process in all capital cities of Australia we make the difficult decisions as to the twenty-four or so applicants who will be offered a place. Many unsuccessful applicants ask for an audition report. This type of audition was instituted five or six years ago and is constantly being improved. Professional theatre workers are invited to attend and assist with auditions, which are quite open and, we believe, fair and thorough. Most applicants seem to enjoy the process and many come back a second time. We attempt to assess the applicant’s potential in the areas of communications abilities both physical and vocal, imagination, temperament, objectives and motivation. These are the only criteria. We must be sure that an applicant has something to say and at least the beginnings of the means to say it. We want students who will last the distance of a strenuous and demanding three year course and who will, on graduation, make a coherent contribution to the profession and the community. And judging from our record, and the standard of our graduates, both the auditions and the course would seem to be reasonably successful. George Whaley, Head of the Acting Course, National Institute of Dramatic Art.

(C ontinued on Page 32)

Ray Stanley’s

WHISPERS RUMOURS •

When in America recently, Kenn Brodziak and Robert Ginn socialised with stars like Katharine Hepburn, Angela Lansbury and Carol Channing and, as they all expressed desires to pay return visits to this country, it’s quite on the cards we'll be seeing them here. Lansbury would come if the right comedy could be found; she recently played the T in The King and l for three weeks, and is scheduled to later go into Stephen Sondheim’s latest musical, Sweeney Todd. Hepburn is keen to come here, but first has to finish her filming of The Corn is Green. Channing of course is currently in the revival of Hello Dolly. Incidentally, acting on his own intuition again — exactly as he did with Godspell offBroadway and The Canterbury Tales in London — Kenn Brodziak tipped Death Trap would be a big hit on Broadway when everyone else was predicting it would flop. Now it has turned into one of Broadway’s biggest ever play hits. Brodziak claims he watches audience responses to guide him as to whether a show will be a success or not....Michael and Jeni Edgley are currently overseas for their annual search for possible attractions for Australia....Should imagine everyone who saw The Naked Civil Servant on TV will be rushing to see what the unpredictable Quentin Crisp will be doing in his

stage appearances in Sydney, Melbourne and Adelaide. Let’s hope the ABC screen a repeat of the programme before Crisp’s arrival. Currently Gerard Maguire, with the solid work he is doing in Melbourne Theatre Company productions, and numerous TV and film appearances, seems to be the actor in the first Australian production of Boys in the Band whose name ultimately has become most familiar with the general public. However, by the time this column is printed, the limelight could well have switched to another member of that cast — and not for show biz reasons. Just keep those eyes glued to the newspapers!....Looks like a novel idea for the Hoopla Theatre Foundation. They are likely to present at Melbourne’s Playbox in September Robyn Archer in The Migrants, a production from Adelaide’s Stage Company about Italian migration. It will be directed by Wal Cherry (too long absent from the Melbourne theatre scene) and be played on alternate nights in English and Italian....Hear Danny La Rue could be coming Down Linder soon. Apparently he hates flying, but may have to. List of plays rostered for the Old Totes second season this year almost looks like the line-up for a commercial m anagem ent. Coward’s Hay Fever, which opens the season, used to be the good old stand-by in England for reps up and down the country that were in decline....Believe there’s a big battle going on between Harry M Miller’s Computicket and the BASS system....After her Australian stage engagement, Liv Ullman will be going into her first Broadway musical, playing the title role in Mama, based on the play by John Van Druten, /

Remember Mama. Toni Lamond is playing the show-stealing role of Miss Hannigan in a West Coast touring production of Annie in the States. Hear whispers that one of Australia's brightest and most popular stars could be cast in the role

M cD o n a l d COLLEGE OF DANCING

ann

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GHOST by HENRIK IBSEN June 7 - 25 — Penrith June 2 8 - July 1 — Bankstown Town Hall July 5 - 9 — Marsden Auditorium, Parramatta. ST. MARYS KID by KEVIN BENNETT DAVID MASON-COX MAXIFFLAND June 21 -2 5 — Bankstown Town Hall June 28 - July 16 — Penrith THEQTHEATRE

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here....A lot of people seem unaware of the fact the Australian Elizabethan Theatre Trust has its own costume-hiring department. Understand it possesses the original costumes used in the film Picnic at Hanging Rock....Isn t it about time an actor or actress was made a knight or dame for services to the Australian theatre? There’s only been Judith Anderson (who’s lived in the USA for most of her life), and Robert Helpmann who got it for ballet. Seeing how Australian audiences will always flock to see a titled actor on stage, might it not give a much needed boost to live theatre here if a few such honours were thrown around? But would it create too much bad feeling between fellow thespians? See one of Britain's leading intimate revue writers, Peter Myers, died recently at the age of fifty-four. Folks may recall he was out here in 1958 for the Australian version of his For Amusement Only revue, which he also directed. Later he returned for The Mavis Bramston Show, and was executive producer at ATN-7 1964-6. Understand the cast of The Twenties and All That Jazz could have appeared in their little show in London last March, but for the selfish un-co-operation of the Victorian Arts Council. The cast were told there was a West End theatre available and asked to go over immediately. However, they were under contract to the V A t to tour Victorian country towns. They asked to be temporarily released ffrom their contract, promising faithfully to take it up again immediately on return from London (when their property would naturally be even hotter). But the VAC remained firm in its refusal. The country tour took place, did only so-so business — mainly through poor publicity on the VAC’s part apparently — and in some cases bad working conditions. Now The Twenties cast are awaiting on another London theatre, hopefully for August after their Adelaide season.

Marian Street Theatre and Restaurant 498-3166 Book now — opening June 9th J.M. Barrie’s famous comedy WHAT EVERY WOMEN KNOWS Directed by Alastair Duncan Tues. to Sat. 8.15 — Dinner from 6.30 Sunday at 4.30 Restaurant and foyer bars licensed. Bookings 498-3166 and Agencies 2 Marian Street, Killara 2071

P.O. BOX 10, PENRITH 2 7 5 0 .Tel: (0 4 7 )2 1 -5 7 3 5

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In Praise of Australian Actors Frank Hauser Interviewed by Ray Stanley Next to the late Sir Tyrone Guthrie, Frank Hauser probably is the English director to come to Australia with the most experience in England, working with some of the biggest stage names there. Unlike many who come here, he not only has a highly distinguished career behind him, but is well used to working with Australian actors, and in fact sometimes prefers them above all others. At the Oxford Playhouse where, for seventeen years, he ran his own company, the Meadow Players, Hauser directed Australians such as Leo McKern, Keith Michell, June Jago, Lewis Liander, Terence Donovan and Robert Hornery. “There’s a whole range of parts in classics and modern plays which English actors find increasingly difficult to do”, Hauser maintains. “You can say they’re rough parts, but this sounds as if they’re rough-neck parts. They’re not. They’re parts which have some sort of real basic qualities in them. “I think English actors are probably, as a bunch, the best going. But there are certain things an enormous number of them really have lost touch with. One of these is a kind of feeling for the country, a feeling for roots, a feeling for earthiness, which can come up in Kings and Princes, and lots of it can come up in farmers and peasants. And again and again, with the men and the women — a part like Electra, for instance, this is a kind of interesting one — where you think it needs an Australian quality, or it needs something which is not an English quality.” Hauser first discerned this quality as being possessed by Australians when directing an actor with whom he has been associated a great deal in his working life: Leo McKern. “There came a time when every play I did seemed to have a big part for Leo. He’s such a wonderful actor. If Leo wanted to play Romeo, I’d go along with it. But there are so many parts, like Falstaff, and the King in a play called Queen After Dark (which is Phillip IV of Spain), where a kind of tremendous real vitality — absolutely animal vitality, though playing a very grand gentleman indeed — seems to suit Leo. It’s a thing that one does tend to find in England a lot.

Frank Hauser

Photo: David Parker

“You see, it needs an Australian quality; and you say an Australian, you don’t say South African or Canadian, although there are a lot of very good actors from there.” Diane Cilento is an Australian actress whom Hauser instances “who had again a quality which of her generation no English actress had at all. Of being perfectly able to play Queens and Princesses, and all this kind of thing, or peasants, and had a real animal vitality underlying whatever she did, which was tremendously exciting in the theatre. It’s much more difficult to have. Even a butler ought to have it somewhere.” Although Hauser has never worked with Madge Ryan, June Jago appeared in his productions of Genet’s The Balcony and

Ghosts. “June has got this quality. It’s a quite free stroke. She doesn’t have to clench her teeth or her fists or try and work it up; it comes out naturally, when she wants it.” This is one of the qualities Hauser feels is needed for Shaw’s Saint Joan, and to play this role he chose New Zealand actress Nyree Dawn Porter, because he believes New Zealand actresses possess it also, although as he says: “Nyree is not anyone’s idea of Saint Joan, because she’s frail and fragile”. After probably giving employment to more Australians in England than any other director, it was hardly surprising Hauser should jump at the opportunity to direct two productions for the Melbourne Theatre Company. He selected the plays in consultation with John Sumner, who wanted an English classical comedy and a Greek tragedy. They went through a list of those and finally picked The Beaux’ Stratagen and Electra. “One of the reasons why I finally came down very strongly in favour of The Beaux’Stratagen is that Restoration type plays are intensely difficult — most of them are not very good, they’ve got marvellous things in them, but they’ve got very long arid passages. There have

been a lot of kind of rough productions, designed to show that the Restoration period was in fact a very brutal period and all that. But in fact they all had wonderful manners; the plays are about manners. And again this is a quality which the present generation of English actors finds it pretty difficult to do, and I think Australians will find it equally difficult to do.” He confesses that Electra is new to him. “There’s a whole range of plays which everyone in theatre knows terribly well, but nobody’s actually read. I’ve just done one in London — Dryden’s A llfor Love." Electra has been translated by Nick Enright in collaboration with1Hauser. Hauser’s first big stage assignment was co directing with Alec G uinness the very controversial Hamlet in which Guinness played the Dane in 1951. The role of the Player King was taken by Kenneth Tynan. Guinness asked Hauser to direct the Hamlet with him, after having played Chorus in Anouilh’s Antigone on radio for him. That production had Peter Ustinov as Creon, Mary Morris as Antigone and Denholm Elliott as Haemon. Today Hauser refers to the production of Hamlet as “an illuminating experience”. It was followed by plays for West End producer Henry Sherek, and then to Salisbury for nine months, followed by eighteen months at Coventry. Here Hauser directed Ugo Betti’s The Queen and the Rebels with Irene Worth, which he describes as “the turning point in my life, doing that particular play, because that came to London.” With the West End launching of the Betti play, Hauser heard the Playhouse in Oxford was closing and, after visiting friends there, “had the one and only good idea in my life: form a company there, not doing staple rep fare — which meant West End successes as soon as they closed in London — but to do new plays”. For ten years, under Hauser’s guidance, the Oxford company staged new plays as a substantial part of its repertoire. In the first season there were five world premieres. They also did some classics, including The Beaux' Stratagen. Starting with Anouilh’s Dinner with the Family Oxford soon gained the reputation for transferring new plays to London. However, after ten years Hauser tired of this, partly because others were also presenting new plays and the supply was more limited, but mostly because the whole business of transferring to London had got out of hand. Now Hauser is able to freelance — around the world — and says he much prefers this. No longer does he have the worries which used to beset him when, in the middle of the night, he would wake up thinking of something which had to be done. THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

DESIGNING MINDS THE DESIGNERS ASSOCIATION IN THE PERFORMING ARTS was last year reformed after having been in abeyance for some time. The Association aims to promote and protect the role of the Designer in theatre, television and film and to heighten both pro fessional and public appreciation of their work. It is based in Sydney with a committee of ten headed by Anne Fraser as President. The current membership comprises sixty designers from all around Australia. Thirty members will show their work at the “Designing Minds” exhibition. It was officially opened on Friday, 7th April at 6.30 p.m. by Mr. Robin Lovejoy, O.B.E., former Artistic Director of the Old Tote Theatre Company. On display also were showcases of work from William Constable, Barry Kay, Kenneth Rowell, the late Louden Sainthill and Miss Desmonde Downing, past President of the Association, who died soon after completing the design for the A.B.C.’s television production of Ben Hall. For further information please contact Ailsa Carpenter. Administrator, on 44-6212 or 20588. Ext. 251. Designing Minds is an exhibition of film, theatre and television. Design at Exhibition Hall, Sydney Opera House, 8th April to 31st May, 1978.

D.A.P.A. “Designing Minds” Exhibition, Sydney Opera House, April 78. Robin Lovejoy (top right corner) opens Exhibition in front of 150 people from the Theatre, TV and Film Industry.

D.A.P.A. “Designing Minds” Exhibition, Sydney Opera House, April 78. Anne Frazer Exhibit. 8

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JLNE 1978

D.A.P.A. “Designing Minds” Exhibition, Sydney Opera House, April 78. Vicky Fleichers Designs for Australian Operas City Of Mahagony.

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D.A.P.A. “Designing Minds" Exhibition, Sydney Opera House, April 78

D.A.P.A. “Designing Minds” Exhibition, Sydney Opera House, April 78. Carol Passmores Costume Designs for A.B.C. Ben Hall.

D.A.P.A. “Designing Minds” Exhibition, Sydney Opera House, April 78. Bill Passmore Exhibit.

D.A.P.A. “Designing Minds” Exhibition, Sydney Opera House, April 78. THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

And now — a word from the villain.... Bruce Barry talks to Barry Eaton Sydney’s Music Hall Theatre Restaurant has had a proud tradition of top villains since its opening, Barry Creyton, Alton Harvey and more recently Alfred Sandor are names that spring to mind. Bruce Barry now joins the list for the new production, Crushed by Desire. Not that this is Bruce’s first venture into Music Hall type villainy. In 1962 he starred in the Melbourne production of Face at the Window. That was also for George Miller, the owner of the Music Hall. Mr. Nasty is quite often the most satisfactory role for an actor to play. With appearances as the ‘heavy’ in TV series like Homicide, Matlock, Division 4 and Ryan, Bruce Barry is no stranger to nastiness. “Even my musical comedy parts have led along these lines”, he says. “Nicky Arnstein in Funny Girl, even Frank Butler in Annie Get Your Gun is an anti-hero in modern terms. He is a chauvanist. In Promises, Promises I was virtually a villain. Not an exaggerated one, a

very understandable human being, but a villain nonetheless.” The part of Dickinson in 1776 also cast him in this mould. Bruce of course has played the hero on several occasions. Frederick in A Little Night Music is one of his favourite memories. But even Frederick had his nasty moments. His television series The Spoiler was a classic case of the anti-hero character. I’ll never forget my mother writing to me and saying, at last you are on the right side of the law. I am so pleased you will be showing a different side of yourself, as I was so disappointed whenever you turned up as a villain”. And what happened. “Well, the so-called hero was far more vicious, far more aggressive than any of the villains I’d ever played in guest spots on other series!” But his mother still loves him. Prior to rehearsals at the Music Hall, Bruce headed off overseas for his first trip out of Australia. He had a marvellous ‘theatre crawl’ through London and then on to the South of France for some skiing. After this, head still in the clouds (or a snow drift perhaps?), he arrived back in Sydney to find rehearsals had started a week early. Urgent messages had been flying around Europe, but Bruce had heard nothing. “I was having such a marvellous time, I’m not sure I would have come back anyway”, he mused. I agreed wholeheartedly. When Bruce did return, it was to a situation where he was not only a week behind the rest of

the cast, but having communication difficulties with director, Michael Boddy. “I was betwixt and between and we had great difficulty getting it together. I tried to force feed the lines as a short cut, but that didn’t work. So I had to go back in the second or third week of rehearsals and start again, while all the others were steaming on. It was the hardest bloody thing I have ever done”. Things did come together though and Bruce has settled in for the traditional twelve months run that Music Hall productions enjoy. The Show underway, Bruce Barry can now devote more time to contemplating his future; a subject of concern lately. He is becoming increasingly discontent with his present lot and is considering several alternatives_ “Actors are the last link in the creative process. I suppose I am growing more and more dissatisfied with being the last link. I would like to move up to directing and writing”. Would he give up acting altogether in this event? “Except for film work, yes. In films there is a dimension which is denied you in the theatre”. The recent trip to London has also had its effect. He was about to set off overseas when Funny Girl came along. Since then the flow of work has kept him in Australia. But the prospect of working in London is appealing more and more now. 1979 could well be a big year in the life of Bruce Barry. Failing these two possibilities, he is also fascinated by an alternative lifestyle. But that’s another story.

" I f the fro n tiers of Br is b a n e drama are going TO BE EXTENDED IT'S IN La BoiTE's LITTLE SPACE THAT IT WILL HAPPEN, "

Barry Oa k l e y - Na t io n a l T imes - F ebruary 13 - 19 , 1978

La BciTteTheatre 57 Ha le St r e e t , Br i s b a n e . 4000 Te le p h o n e : 07 - 361622 ,

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

ALTERNATIVE ADELAIDE Frank Ford Frank Ford returned to his native Australia in 1975 after years of working overseas in the theatres of New York and other foreign climes, to take up a Drama Lectureship at Adelaide CAE. He is currently the Director of the Icon Theatre Company, and was the founding Chairman of the Association of Community Theatres.

For a city with a comparatively small population, Adelaide boasts an extraordinary number of theatre companies. Apart from the fully-professional, state-subsidised South Australian Theatre Company, there are over forty smaller organisations under the umbrella of the Association of Community Theatres — a broad and colourful spectrum variously described as alternate, amateur, semiprofessional, alternate professional, experimental, fringe or community theatres — not to mention several excellent children’s and theatre-in-education groups. All these adjectives apply, and occasionally overlap, and their quality — by whatever standards you choose to measure it — varies drastically. All serve useful purposes, but amongst them are approximately ten groups possessing a high degree of the theatre skills, and demonstrating a solid commitment. These groups serve as training grounds, and occasional resting places, for the professionals in the industry, and in a few cases, operate as full-time professional companies, even if payment has to be on a collective or payment-deferred basis. And Adelaide also boasts — proudly — a number of writers who have been encouraged by, or have grown up with these companies, and who are now attracting national and international reputations. Despite this thriving breeding ground, Adelaide has not yet thrown up a second professional company to compare with Sydney’s Nimrod or Melbourne’s APG. Paradoxically, it might be because of this healthy environment rather than despite it, that the long-awaited second coming has failed to eventuate. Money is tragically short, but activity is furious and creative outlets many, and, coupled with sporadic film and commercial work, tends to partially defuse the initiative to set up a tightly constituted second professional company; after all, such a company could only provide fulltime work for a handful, and there is always the dreaded spectre of over-institutionalisation and

creative suffocation. Which leads us to the $64 question — (it would cost plenty more than that!) — Is a second company necessary at this time? An arbitrary list of Adelaide’s alternate companies must include: the South Australian Creative Workshops, The Adelaide Theatre Group, La Mama, the Q, Icon, the University Theatre Guild, Globe, the Stage Company and Troupe. Even there it is hard to draw the line: one might mention the new Bakehouse Company presenting cabaret theatre in the Adelaide Hills, or St Jude’s Players with years of breaking in new plays, or the TIE teams with their high standards of writing and performance. Of the above list, the Stage Company and Troupe have definite plans to go fully professional, and it could be that one or both of these will provide the pro competition to the SAIC. The critics’ notices in the press back up their claims, but only marginally ahead of the rest of the field. South Australian Creative Workshops, under the guidance of its Director/ Founder Martin Christmas, has presented innumerable successful plays, and blooded many good performers during its seven years of operation, despite the lack of a permanent base. Their work as an ensemble is inclined towards radical innovation, in both content and presentation. They now have a professional wing, the Community Arts Team (CAT), a mobile unit presenting TIE and related work,

which employes Director Christmas and several other prime movers from the ensemble. The Adelaide Theatre Group, based in the delightful North Adelaide setting of the Sheridan Theatre, could arguably be called the number one training ground for Adelaide’s theatre professionals: Les Dayman, Don Barker, William Job and countless others gained their amateur experience there, since its inception in 1946. It has never laid claim to being a professional group, but has always striven for the highest standards in each production, often producing “safe” theatre, but taking the occasional commendable gamble. For many years, it represented the only viable competition to the SATC. La Mama, a pearl in the rather dingey oyster of the Western inner suburbs, seems inseparable from its dynamic, tenacious founder, Director Bruno Knez. After twenty years of freelancing in Adelaide theatre, Croatian-born Bruno converted a Crawford Lane cellar into a theatre which now only forms part of a mini-complex with The Shed over the road, and even a foyer gallery. La Mama’s work revolves around good, solid modern plays — Pinter, Beckett, Tennessee Williams — risks are taken, but not so often as to jeopardise the existence of the theatre, which has survived without so much as a smell of subsidy for five productive years. There is also a strong commitment to teaching, through its workshops. It’s a year-in-year-out proposition, but it’s there.

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

Rediscover yourself in G reece

W hether you are a tra ve lle d academ ic or first tim e tourist, there are good reasons fo r visiting Greece. In visiting Greece you w ill discover yourself in the fo u n t o f W estern C ivilization. Go to Greece and rediscover your V ideal self in a w o rld b rim m in g w ith artistic and intellectua l creation; w here I y o u 'll w a lk w ith in the rhythm o f an v unbroken trad itio n o f m ille n n iu m s and be intoxicated by the G recian style of life. Visit G reece and cross the threshold of history into a 30 century m ainstream of

living tradition steeped in culture and the good life. Greece is hospitality and unbridled fun; superb food and a b e w ild e rin g va riety o f w ines; Greece is a land o f festivals. In touring Greece you are w a lkin g through history; and the Grecian light w ill en d o w you w ith a fe e lin g deeply hum an and an awareness necessary fo r experiencing life to the fu ll. Prepare yourself fo r the profound G reek experience. Rediscover yourself in Greece.

G R £ € C € : THE LAND O F THE LIV IN G . For brochures, maps, films, display material and up-to-date information, contact

Greek National Tourist Organisation, 51 Pitt Streét, Sydney NSW 2 0 0 0 . Tel: 2411663.

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

Also in a less-than-prestigious area is the Q Theatre in the city’s Carrington Street. Founded in 1970 by Actress/Director/Playwright Betty Quin, who now takes a long-range interest as she develops a writing career, it is fair to say that the Q has done more than any other

bookshop. There they produced the blockbuster hit, I f I Ever Get Back Her Again, I ’ll Stay, based on the writings of D H Lawrence in Australia. Gallasch starred in Allen’s tight script, and Troupe’s reputation was made. Since then they have continued to produce mainly

company to encourage young actors and new plays. Work never stops, with the next play ready to go when the previous season ends. The Icon Theatre Company is an alternative theatre co-operative of highly qualified specialists. Formed in late 1974 by director Frank Ford and designer Nick Pyrros, both with considerable overseas experience, the management also included musical director Grahame Dudley, late of the Cockpit in the UK, and technical director Milos Miladinovic, a local professional. Jointly, they have used a variety of venues, presenting mainly new plays, adaptations and music-theatre pieces. The University Theatre Guild, initially a post graduate campus group, has widened its interests and membership over a long and distinguished career to include the off-campus public. In the mid-sixties, before the expansion of the SATC, it was the prestige company in the state, premiering the (then) controversial Patrick White plays. It now has a permanent ensemble under the energetic direction of professional Jim Vile. Blessed with access to two university theatres, its capacity to train performers and technicians is immense. Globe, described after their first production as “the altruists of alternative theatre in Adelaide”, insist on innovative work with the lowest possible admission prices, despite no attempt as yet to attract subsidy. A looselystructured collective around Flinders drama graduate Steve Brown works in a variety of unusual venues, and in 1977 presented two Australian premieres: Ionesco’s Killing Game and Steve Spears’ There were Giants In Those Days. They also work in TIE. The most recent addition is the Stage Company, formed late last year largely on the initiative of ex-SATC assistant director Brian Debnam, with the express intention of working as professionals. A new performing collective is set up to produce each show; only experienced and/or trained actors may participate, and a fulltime commitment is demanded. Assisted by only marginal state funding, and wisely budgeting for adequate rather than packed houses, Stage pulled off a daring and highly commendable first season: three new plays by Adelaide writers Rob George and Ken Ross. The houses, in the Sheridan Theatre, only measured up to the cautious estimates, but the notices were superb. Stage is now in recess to examine the funding situation and plan its next bracket of works later in the year. Troupe, formed in 1976 by director/writerAecturer Dave Allen and actorAecturer Keith Gallasch, tested its wings in a number of ad hoc theatres before creating its own, the Red Shed, in a garage behind a city

new works in the Shed — so reminiscent of Melbourne’s La Mama, circa 1968 — culminating with the Critics’ Circle Award. In 1979, they plan to have a fulltime professional core, backed up by collectively-paid actors in the wider ensemble. Since its inception in 1975, the Association of Community Theatres, (ACT), has been the co ordinating body for these and many other groups. With only a part-time administrator under an elected honorary committee, ACT has liaised between its members as well as with the media and funding bodies to help improve communication, resource-sharing, standards and bank-balances of the groups. Until recently, the only subsidy ever seen by many of them was the small sums that ACT was able to devolve from its hard-won grants as a collective entity. ACT has showcased the groups and performers in two seasons in The Space at the Festival Centre, a flexible theatre which has caused the Festival Centre Trust many headaches as to its correct method of use; it proved a central, useful venue for the showcase concept. ACT has also mounted an Almost-Free Season in the University Little Theatre, to display not only performers and directors, but also new writing: capacity houses saw five premieres with no admission charge — donation only. This was an extension of the Writers’ Workshop, rehearsed readings of new plays, which is an on-going activity. In fact, it is the growth of new works and new writers which has been the most pleasing aspect of the Adelaide Theatre explosion of the 1970s. An ACT Writers’ Workshop was the first vehicle for a Ken Ross play; another Ross play was produced through ACT in the Space last year, and since then, his works have met huge success with the Melbourne Theatre Company, Sydney’s Jane Steet, and in Queensland. Another ACT group — Circle — premiered the first Steve Spears play, and the subsequent international career of that Adelaide playwright needs no further elaboration. Dave Allen’s Gone with Hardy will feature on the MTC’s programme this year, after its premiere in our Almost-Free Season, and his work on Lawrence is under consideration by Thames Television. For the second year running, Malcolm Purcell will be represented in Workshop at the National Playwrights’ Conference, but in his home state, only the alternative groups have produced his work. The task of discovering, and more importantly, developing new writers seems to have been left to the alternate groups and their umbrella organisation, ACT. Following the Troupe production, the SATC acquired the rights to I f I Ever Get Back ... but this fell through due to copywright problems. The

SATC commissioned a script from Rob George,

Let’s Twist Again, but dropped it after one public reading. The play was developed by the Stage Company to become a critical success during the 1978 Festival. That same year, the SATC had an option on Spears’ There Were Giants, but let that lapse too. ACT finally premiered the play in the Almost-Free Season, by which time Spears was on his way to the London opening of Benjamin Franklin. The MTC produced Ken Ross’ Breaker Morant, and will produce the Allen play; it seems that Adelaide writers must take their work straight from their bases of operation in the alternate theatre to the other states, and thence, possibly, overseas. The local state company, despite its active playreading service, seems unaccountably loath to stem the Eastward tide. The question of government funding is inescapable in these inflationary times; the state did take a gamble some years ago by heavily subsidising a second professional company at Theatre ’62; possibly the embarrassing failure of that exercise is behind the timidity of both state and companies to try a repeat of the experiment. That collapse, however, occurred at a time before the theatrical upsurge which has deepened our pool of expertise and public awareness. Any government’s arts policy is manifested in the way it channels its funds — no legislation can directly control the thinking of creative personnel. In South Australia, the SATC and State Opera have separate lines in the Budget, in other words, their money runs straight through an open channel rather than filtering through the Arts Development Division which administrates the funding for “the rest” — the alternate theatre. The SATC receives $800,000, while the sum total for the myriad of others in 1977/78 was about $20,000. This kind of discrepancy can prove awfully depressing to the professionals and committed non-professionals in alternate theatre, all of whom, in greater or lesser degree, are on the borderline financially. One “wrong” step or risky initiative can spell doom. Clearly, therefore, funds to support a second professional company cannot come from that shallow pool on which the demonstably fruitful alternate companies float; in fact, that pool needs to be deepened to enable them to not only maintain the status quo, but take a few more risks to uncover more talents which must surely be lying just below the surface. Private support is a slight probability at best — at least, in sufficient degree. It seems doubtful that the government will allocate a portion of the SATC’s funding for the purpose of a new company. An overall structure of the SATC plus a second company and the existing ACT groups would be exciting indeed. But if this proves impossible, we can still be happy with the healthy atmosphere that already exists in this heady period of Adelaide’s alternate theatre. THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

Douglas Flintoff asks whether the “subsidy spiral” is turning our subsidised theatres into mere try-out venues for commercial shows.

SUBSIDY AND COMMERCIALISM Ever since the outstanding success of Summer o f the 17th Doll over twenty years ago there has been an entrepreneurial model for subsidised or publicly subscribed theatre organisations. Companies have laboured under the misapprehension that a show will reach the widest or largest audience, or will contribute most to Australian culture, if it is presented in a single large-scale all-in commercial production. The result has been an increasing emphasis on commercial values in our subsidised theatres and, apparently, an increasing neglect of artistic ones. It is early yet for gloomy prognoses, but there are alarming signs.

** The creeping commercialism is seen at every level of production in the major and second-string companies. An example is the Nimrod Theatre — for some years now Sydney’s most exciting company, with a consistently high standard of production of always interesting plays. Recently Nimrod has been “going commercial” with an aggression dreadful to con template. They now do revivals, pre-planned transfers to commercial theatres, interstate tours of their best hits — all worthy activities expanding their audiences and bringing culture within reach of the masses etc. — but dangerous. Dangerous because this sort of thinking can very easily tip over into a preoccupation with bums on seats, to the detriment of quality and theatrical excitem ent/*

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

Paul lies and John Bell furthermore have a personal financial stake in The Club. They take a percentage of its profits, as does Richard Wherrett for The Elocution o f Benjamin Franklin. Again this is not so bad in itself but it is a sign of commercial values encroaching on the hallowed domain of Art. These people have salaries paid out of the public purse. A cut of the takings of their successful shows may be a cheap way for the public to reward them for their successes, but it surely also cannot help encouraging them to be on the lookout for commercial hits. It gives them a vested interest beyond their artistic concerns, and although we may presumably rely on the integrity of these three it sets a bad precedent. The pre-planned transfer of The Club is a similar sign. It was booked into the Theatre Royal in Sydney, and for its tour, before it opened at Nimrod Upstairs. Why bother with the preliminary season at the subsidised theatre? If it is definitely going to succeed why not put it straight into commercial production and spend the public money on something more adventurous? Are subsidised theatres to become merely try-out venues for purely commercial activities? If so then this is government aid to an industry — an artistic superphosphate bounty — rather than a public expression of support for the arts. A more blatant and seemingly cynical example is Wilton Morley’s recent production of Dusa Fish Stas and Vi at the Melbourne Theatre Company. I do not know the financial details of the agreement between Morley and the MTC but I would like to. On the surface it seems as if Morley is getting not only a free try out for a production he will tour, but the resources of the MTC to mount the production in the first place. On the other side of the coin — from the point of view of the genuinely or solely commercial organizations — we find the government refusing to give even urgent short term assistance to an ailing JCW’s. One of the main reasons for the performing arts to come

within the terms of reference of the Industries Assistance Commission was the feeling among commercial companies that subsidised companies were providing unfair competition. And from the IAC report it seems they found this feeling to be completely justified. Subsidy has become government protection for an ailing industry — unfairly distributed at that. It is partly the commercial theatres' fault, of course. Why don’t they use good commercial directors like John Bell or good commercial writers like David Williamson? It’s getting so that the only difference in product is that the commercial theatres do overseas stuff and the subsidised theatres remain local. I have singled out a couple of specific examples, but this is not because they are the only ones. The SATC does productions of American musicals — to get the audiences into the theatre (although to do them justice they never had a hope of making money out of Annie Get Your Gun — the theatre is simply too small and the show was too big.) The Old Tote employs a director of classics largely, it seems, on the basis of his previous commercial success. All subsidised theatres are caught in what has been called the “subsidy spiral”. To maintain or increase their subsidy they have to maintain or increase their audiences. Inevitably they are under pressure not to fail, to be cautious and to appeal to as many bums as possible. The Tote and the MTC, for example, occasionally get very proud of playing to nearly capacity houses, but they are attracting no new people to the theatres nor presenting any new material to the old crowd who attend. They have simply succeeded in filling seats from the tiny “market” they appeal to, and so justifying, numerically, next year’s subsidy. One of the IAC’s chief complaints was that no subsidised theatre submitted arguments for the general cultural, financially unaccountable benefits for the community that theatre is still sometimes thought to have. Let us hope this was not because our subsidised theatres don’t believe in them.

Paul Iles, manager of Nimrod, argues that “commercial” and “subsidised” theatre are not antithetical: that “our theatres should be applauded when they marry art with business”.

THE PROFITABLE STAGE At a time when moribund artistic policies and financial crises persistently assail the columns of Theatre Australia, Douglas Flintoff tries to jab the Nimrod in the vitals for success on both fronts. With the same characteristically Australian poker that he rammed up the Tote’s failures in an April article, he now takes an arbitrary bash at a prize-fighter. Such correspondents seem to grow on the bush. Profitability has never been the sole way to judge a theatre’s success. The pursuit of the profit motive has meant the lingering death of nearly every commercial manager in Australia; but Nimrod has been successful because it does not have to make a profit.

M Subsidised theatre companies are injecting a new stimulus to the commercial houses. In the last two years Sydney’s Theatre Royal has hosted the Old Tote’s Habeas Corpus, Marian Street’s Tarantara, the Dance Company’s Poppy, MTC’s Kid Stakes and Dusa, Fish, and Nimrod’s The Club. One third of all their productions. The article suggests that the interests of the taxpayer are not being well served by companies aiming at city transfers and that the subsidies from the Australia Council and state governments should not be mixed with the money contributed by commercial managers towards the cost of production. But there is no doubt that subsidised theatre audiences are seeing better productions than they would do without the profits of the market place. While grants in Australia remain at such a low ratio to earned income, compared to the European theatres with a higher safety margin, non-profit theatre must look to supplementing its

income from subsidiary activity. Commercial transfers at Nimrod are a bi-line, not a goal.” Nimrod has benefited hugely from tours and transfers in the last two years. Without the success of The Elocution o f Benjamin Franklin and The Club we would either be out of business by now or be paying actors and staff hunger wage. Without its $74,000 profit from Benjamin the Company would have turned its 1977 surplus of $25,300 into a loss of $48,700. It is patently ludicrous for Mr Flintoff to imply that prudent artistic management does not belong ‘in the hallowed domain of art’. Is he the sort of spendthrift who is bankrupting our theatres? The article states that John Bell and I had a personal stake in The Club by taking a percentage of profits — as though any men in our position could. In Britain every director in subsidised theatre whose work transfers gets a percentage. Equity, who handle directors there, says they should. A three year old standard agreement rules a benefit between 1Zi and 3 per cent of gross box office receipts. Similar terms exist in the United States. In Bell s case the percentage is negotiated with the board of directors and he was paid IZi per cent which amounted to $3,100 on the transfer of The Club. Likewise Wherrett on Benjamin Franklin. Hardly a killing, especially when they are each paid a salary of $15,600 with no expense account. Less than a project officer at the Australia Council and less than half the salary of the deputy head of the Film and Television School. Furthermore, Flintoff is wrong about my deal. I receive no percentage payments whatsoever and am employed on the same basic salary as the three artistic directors. In that article the mistake is to regard ‘commercial’ and ‘subsidised’ theatre as antithetical. There is a strong commercial element in all shows which depend on the sale of tickets to the public. He assumes that there is no commercial pressure on a subsidised theatre and that commercial managers are motivated soleiy by profit gluttony. To be really free from commercial pressure the subsidised theatre must be funded very very highly. I would like to see more subsidy in commercial theatre. Curiously, Flintoff makes no reference to the Elizabethan Theatre Trust. Had Nimrod made a loss with The Club, one

half would have been borne by the Trust, as investors. In turn they received half of any profits. The risks of transferring The Club to the Theatre Royal were enormous, with a weekly ‘get-out’ of $22,000. About 24 per cent of box office takings goes in percentage payments: 10 per cent to the author, Wi per cent to the director, \2Zi per cent to the theatre for rental (we took the risk, not the Royal). There was usually another $3500 for the company, $7000 for publicity, $5000 for theatre staff, electricity and standing charges. We began the production at Nimrod in order to re-coup rehearsal and stage costs. The transfer was pre-planned because we knew of the MTC’s success with the original production — an eighteen week season at Russell Street Theatre. The transfer of Benjamin Franklin was not — because the potential was unknown. The limp inertia of Australian commercial entrepreneurs rarely motivates them to hunt out new Australian plays. I see some solution in the Trust investing across the board in the hope that they may make an overall profit which can be put back into circulation. In particular the Trust should be able to encourage new young producers and the presentation of work which might not seem on the face of it to be ‘commercial’. This is their involvement with Wilton Morley for Dusa Fish Stas and Vi — an ambitious play for a 1200 seat theatre if ever there was one. The Trust is using subsidy for this. Hooray! On the whole their judgements are improving after the wake of imported packages. I cannot really say they have made an overnight revolution in the state of commercial theatre (which I think is very bad anyway) but it’s a start. Our theatres should be applauded when they marry art with business. The Australia Council does not penalise success and profit. It is delighted for the Australian Ballet to have reserves. All things considered, the pot is not boiling so badly. In that article Mr Flintoff curtly tries to cut the ground from under our feet. We have been kicking for too long. THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

Alex Buzo celebrates ten years o Kirsten Blanch talks to him aboi

O R G A N ISE D N IC E N E S S than stringing together a set o f images. How do your plays develop from that initial im age/idea? It’s a process th a t takes two or three years. I fill up note books w ith all sorts of things. Bits of plot, im ages, characters, scraps of dialogue. I m ake certain decisions a b o u t the directions the play will go, b u t I ’m n o t conscious of trying to get any sort of m essage across. If one does em erge, it’s as a spin-off. W hen I actually come to w rite the play I read th rough the notes, a n d the w riting itself takes only two or three weeks.

Everything y o u ’ve written is within the conventional theatre form at. Katharine Brisbane has been talking about the tent theatres o f Japan which are purposely im permanent and flexible, and so en courage different kinds o f play-writing. Are you interested in other form s o f theatre? My plays are full of h u m an ist p ro p a ganda. Like secret agent, M axwell Sm art, I’m aligned w ith the forces of niceness. T he tra d itio n a l actor-audience relatio n ship seem to be the m ost h u m a n form of th eatre: th e actors playing ch aracters and the audience w atching, w ith no p artici patio n in the overt sense. O th er kin d s of th eatre are terrific for p ro p ag an d a, b u t often verge on m in d lessness a n d anarchy. In the sixties they said tra d itio n a l th e a tre was on the way out, b u t it’s stro n g er th a n ever. T his doesn’t m ean I w on’t continue to experim ent.

When you look back over the last ten years what strikes you about the plays y o u ’ve written? Alex Buzo. P hoto: Jon Lewis

Critics are often hunting around fo r various levels o f meaning in your plays. With M ak assar Reef one critic complained because you ignored the tensions between East and West, another said those tensions were what the play was all about. When I asked what your intentions had been you said you didn t know because you write from images. Could you tell m e more about that? W ell, the plays arise o u t of an im age, not a them e. I d o n ’t sit down a n d decide I ’m going to w rite ab o u t this o r th a t. Coralie Lansdowne began w hen I m et a couple who were then living dow nstairs from us. He was four inches sh o rter th a n she. I saw them hugging one day an d it struck me th a t she was w hat he aspired to, he was w hat she’d settled for. T he play grew out of th at. 16

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T h a t play was full of im ages. I t’s set on a peninsula, the first thing you see w hen the c u rta in opens is b ro k en crab shells on stage, th e re ’s a tree grow ing th ro u g h the roof. I suppose all these say som ething a b o u t C oralie. C ritics called the play a b itte r satire on the lay-about P alm B each set. I d o n ’t even know if th ere is a Set. My a u n t V era an d Bob Ellis live at P alm Beach, b u t I c a n ’t im agine w hat sort of Set could accom odate b o th of them . If I did w ant to write ab o u t the P alm B each Set I ’d do a long article for The National Times, n o t write a play. I’m less clear a b o u t Makassar R ee f because it’s still too recent b u t there was an im age of a w harf a n d an old ruin. In M acassar I cam e across th a t exact scene an d it confirm ed my idea for the play.

But, o f course, th ere’s more to a play

The early plays are m ore negative th an I would w rite now, m ore pessim istic. They were h u m a n ist pro tests against w hat seem ed w rong. Now I seem to be m ore interested in a h u m an istic rescue of w hat is good. Also, w hen I first sta rte d I was very influenced by the th e a tre of the absurd. Rooted is a p a rtic u la r exam ple of th at. In later plays the im ages are m ore in tegrated into the b ack g ro u n d . You d o n ’t get the sam e u n re a l juxtap o sitio n . Coralie Lansdowne is chockerblock w ith im ages, b u t th e c h aracters respond realistically. S urrealism is g reat for showing disgust. I’ve never, for exam ple, seen a positive surreal p ain tin g . You c a n ’t use it for showing optim ism . My plays are realistic, not n atu ralistic. I enjoy n atu ralism in others, b u t see no p o in t in it for myself. F or m e plays have to stim ulate the im ag in atio n an d n atu ralism doesn’t do th at. Surrealism is g reat for showing disgust.

laywrighting this year, is work then and now. a n d m istress. T h en it begins to wind down an d goes into com edy th en d ram a. T he critics say you c a n ’t play aro u n d w ith styles. W ell, I did. A nd they d o n ’t relate w h at’s h ap p en in g on stage w ith w hat th e audience is feeling. If it’s not w orking, th e coughing an d creaking will sta rt a n d you can feel it in the air. If it’s good you can have four h u n d re d people w ith flu a n d n o t one will cough. Martello Towers w ent down well w ith audiences, so they should relate th eir theories about stru ctu re to facts like th at.

Have the productions o f your plays done them justice?

M TC p roduction of Coralie Lansdowne Says No, 1974 w ith Sandy G ore a n d F red Parslow. Photo: Rob Lawler.

Why do you think you have survived these ten years when many playwrights particularly o f the fifties have stopped writing or left the country?

I’ve never, for exam ple, seen a positive surreal painting. You c a n ’t use it for showing optim ism . My plays are realistic, not n atu ralistic. I enjoy n atu ralism in others, b u t see no point in it for myself. For me plays have to stim ulate the im agination and n atu ralism doesn’t do th at. W h at I write is in no sense au to b io graphical. If it’s about anything, it’s abo u t the bonds betw een people, b u t I find psychology boring. T here does seem to have been a fairly co n stan t c h aracter from A hm ed to W eeks Brown who is fairly rigid in his dem ands for perfection. W hen you get a ch aracter like th a t it creates d ram atic problem s for people aro u n d them .

You have used the word “humanist several times. W hat do you mean by hum anism ?

The reason th e playw rights who began in the 1960s are still aro u n d to celebrate their te n th anniversary is th a t they were b etter ed u cated a n d d id n ’t tak e to h eart the com m ents m ade by m anagem ents, critics, police, the RSL, the CW A, psychologists, expatriots, drinking m ates, p aren ts, hippies or Sir F ra n k P acker. If I’d tak en notice of any of those I would have left the country after Norm A n d Ahm ed. Now there are som e good new w riters com ing up like Steve J Spears, Jenny C om pton a n d Louis Nowra. They w on’t be frightened away either. N im rod’s set for Martello Towers, 1976. Photo: M ike G iddens.

O rganised niceness.

You have m entioned that people are badly educated about plays. That they d o n ’t know how to read them. Could you expand on that? I was talk in g in p articu la r a b o u t th eatre critics, specially those w ith single digit IQ s. They c a n ’t get beyond bits of sixth form ped an try out of the fifties. T he 1850s. O ne said ab o u t Makassar R ee f th a t the audience was left w ondering if they were w atching farce, comedy o r d ram a. The audience w asn’t w ondering anything. It was w atching a play. All those categories w ent o u t the window thirty years ago when black com edy cam e in. Martello Towers, for exam ple, took a convention a n d reversed it. It begins as farce — doors open an d slam , people’s identities are m ixed u p , th e re ’s lots of confusion. People m eet each o th er who sho u ld n ’t m eet each other. Like the wife

Yes, mostly. P articularly those a t the M elbourne T h e a tre C om pany an d N im rod in Sydney. W e u n d e rsta n d each other. T here have been some b a d productions. Rooted seems to have suffered m ost. I t’s been b u tch ered m ore often th a n any of the others. P erh ap s it’s a difficult play to produce. The Front Room Boys is a b it of an obstacle course, too, th o u g h w'hen it w orks it looks good.

Your last p la y ’s suppose?

your

favorite,

I ’m afraid so, I love Indonesia, it’s colour a n d it’s pedestrians. T he play’s ab o u t u p ro o ted people trying to find their p ast so they can go on. They grope each oth er m etaphorically. T his is all b e a u ti fully done in A rne N eem ’s prod u ction w ith the M elbourne T h eatre Com pany, an d perform ed by several actors who’ve m ade my w ork look good m any tim es before — M onica M au g h an , M ax Cullen, Sandy G ore a n d G erry M aguire. T hey’re able to take th e som etim es extravagent language in th eir stride a n d go ah ead with their characterisatio n s. Does th a t sound like a plug?

Yes, but th a t’s OK. W hat are you filling notebooks with now. W hat ideas and images are you working on? I’m feeling fertile. I’ve got three plays on the boil. A rena Stage, W a sh in g to n ’s prod u ctio n of Tom, d irected by A lan Schneider, 1973. P hoto: Joe B M an.

A ll set around water? A bsolutely. I t’s the only way to cure hydrophobia. THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

International Michael Morley Polarities in German productions. The participation of directors and critics in a constant re-examination of the function and direction of the theatre has long been an established feature of the German scene. During the last three years the participants in the debate have drawn up balance sheets on which such “opposed” values as, on the one hand, aestheticism, show, traditional, classic, and director as controller; and, on the other, politicising, demonstration, avante garde and collectivism are played off against each other. Of course this discussion is hardly typical of Germany alone. But to illustrate the type of theatre which can be seen as linked with, and resulting from the current debate, I should like to concentrate on four productions, all staged in Berlin. The one theatre in both parts of Germany which now comes closest to the comfortable, unadventurous atmosphere of London’s National Theatre is the Berliner Ensemble in East Berlin. What is now being done there in the name of Saint Bertolt Brecht, prophet of East German socialism, father of the future and saviour of the theatre is a case study of hagiography at its most uninspired. To commemorate the eightieth anniversary of Brecht’s birth, Manfred Wekwerth, the new guardian of the Brecht heritage (after yet another palace revolution), staged a production of the 1938 version of Galileo. In this, Brecht’s view of the historical figure is more positive than in his later attempts to make of him the perpetrator of the original sin of science. He is seen as a cunning, almost noble seeker after the truth, an opportunist who knows when

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to bow and when to walk erect. Given the current situation in the GDR, where the question of artists and writers speaking out (and suffering the consequences) is in everybody’s minds, one might have hoped for some sort of parallel — however discreetly drawn — with the present. Not a bit of it. The play was stillborn from the moment one walked into the theatre and noted engraved on the programme as on the tablets of the law: “Only as much truth as we can prevail on will prevail: the victory of reason can only be the victory of the reasonable”. Brecht’s fondness for simple aphorisms was always apt to slide into an addiction to neatly turned banalities. This production was a hollow, interminable parading of most of them, as well as of the familiar “epic” devices: grey stage, grey costumes, hard white light, the playing area divided into two sections by a semi-circular pathway-cumparapet upstage with two open stairways running down into the forestage where most of the action was located. All very neat, very precise and as sterile as a dissecting room in which not even corpses but cardboard cut-outs are presented for our examination. Just as the play heralds a new age in science and society, the production was intended to do the same for the company itself. It was to be austere, committed, true to Brecht’s aims, a demonstration of the relevance of the theatre of the scientific age. It was flone of these. Far more successful was the Komische Oper production of Mahagonny, which, if anything, erred on the side of lavishness. Some scenes recalled Busby Berkeley musicals, others a deliberately bizarre Teutonic version of Disneyland, others street

rallies of the thirties. But if the Ensemble had sacrificed everything to the message of Galileo, the Komische Oper had taken the opposite course. The visual effects, the imaginative use of technical resources, the introduction of a conferencier figure, dancing girls and strippers were all used for immediate impact but had little to do with the statement of the work itself. In the same way that Galileo steered clear of any references to the present day GDR, Mahagonny was made to enshrine a world and an ideology which are unknown to the happy citizens there whose consciousness has never been distorted by the capitalistic ethos the play unmasks. The same fondness for spectacle, for incidentals in place of a consistent view of the whole, for moments of amazing theatrical ingenuity was to be found in West Berlin in Peter Stein’s production with the Schaubuhne am Halleschen Ufer of Shakespeare’s As You Like It. The past achievements of Stein and his ensemble — memorable productions of Kleist, Ibsen, Gorki and Brecht — have established this company’s reputation as one of Europe’s most adventurous and imaginative. This time, the journey into the unkown which every evening at the Schaubuhne involves began with a journey to the venue itself — really an excursion into the wilds of Berlin. One travelled by special hired bus out along the snowbound autobahns of Berlin to Spandau where the production was being staged in the CCC Film Studios. Crunching over gravel and snow and surrounded by turrets and trees, one could at first be pardoned for thinking that the bus driver had mistaken Spandau Prison for the venue of the play. But once inside an enormous vaulted room, twice as long as it was wide, painted a light blue which gave the surroundings an odd atmosphere of sterility and unreal tranquility, one soon realised that this particular building was a theatrical construct — a metaphorical prison, real and oppressive. I have never found the world of the court at the start of the play more effectively, more chillingly realised. The audience, crammed together and not allowed to sit down, found itself both viewer and participator in the intrigues and physical con frontations which are the touchstone (no pun intended) of the usurper Duke’s court. The wrestling scene between Orlando and Charles (a huge, real-life tag wrestler) was superbly staged; and the locating of Orlando at one end of the corridor-like chamber, pitting words and will against his Uncle Frederick at the other, had the audience following the exchanges as if they were locked into a head-swivelling Wimbledon rally. The forty five minutes that represented the running time of the first act were as exciting and tense as any I have spent in the theatre.

All the more disappointing then was the move to the forest of Arden. For this the audience thronged through an opening which suddenly appeared in the wall of the court chamber, and, winding its way through what seemed like endless subterranean galleries with waterfalls, skeletons, and assorted flora and fauna (rather like a sophisticated botanical ghost train trip), suddenly emerged into a vast open hall hung with lighting grids and decked out with high catwalks, various playing areas, a transplanted tree, lake, and seating on three sides round the major playing area. All very impressive, but after a time one’s reaction was very much like the business man’s on viewing the Grand Canyon: “Great, but what’s it for?” After the confines of the court, this huge expanse provided both actors and audience with what in the long run turned out to be insurmountable problems of focus. Not simply because Stein had chosen to furnish every major piece of dialogue or action with a counterpoint of incidental snatches of monologues, prose extracts and business on the other playing areas,

but because he seemed deliberately to have reduced the actors’ function to that of pawns in an elaborate three-dimensional game of chess. Rumour had it that some of the company had protested at the course the production had taken and that there had been several confrontations. It was significant that the one outstanding performance — Jutta Lampe’s Rosalind — had apparently been arrived at in the face of Stein’s suggestions and by reason of the actress insisting on finding her own, more conventional line through the role. That Stein had assembled for this production more ideas and pieces of ingenious staging than most directors manage in a lifetime is beyond dispute. But there was something infuriatingly perverse about his refusal to play even Stein’s approach to Shakespeare’s text. Instead he seemed to have opted in favour of an over-intellectualized rendition of what Shakespeare might also have written had he been aware of Freud, Brecht, Rousseau, the noble savage, ecological pressure groups and Stein himself. And so the impression was one of four and a half hours of spectacle; in

Phoebe Confessing her love for Rosalind in AsYou Like It.

The telescope scene in Manfred Wekwerth’s Galileo.

turns ludicrous, coarse, brutal and colourful. But the most penetrating and enduring theatrical image was that of Jutta Lampe using all the traditional techniques to produce a performance at once at odds with and more lasting than the sensuous and oppulent effects which at times engulfed both her and the others. If it was profusion of effects which dominated this production, it was a deliberate austerity and a self-conscious spontaneity that distinguished the Schaubuhne’s other current offering — a compilation of Courteline farces entitled The Quite Comprehensible Fear o f Blows. It is no secret that there are tensions within the Schaubuhne Company, resulting from the debate concerning the respective claims of the primacy of the director and the interacting democracy of the collective, the Schaubuhne Shakespeare is very much Stein’s product: the Courteline very much the actors . They directed, selected and cast the pieces; and if one were being unkind one might say it frequently showed. Not that the evening was lazy or unprofessional: there was more professionalism (currently a vogue term, at least in South Australia, where it seems to mean anything from knowing one’s lines to staying awake on stage) in five minutes of the Courteline pieces than in the work of any Australian company I have seen — Nimrod excepted — or indeed many English companies. And yet one has reservations about the vehicle for their efforts. The project was intended to demonstrate the effectiveness of collectivism as well as the immediate relevance of the theatre to the society which supports it; but Courteline’s diverting, at times manic and destructive anticipations of the Theatre of the Absurd seemed at best pointed farce, at worst mere whimsy. And as a venture in collective theatre it showed many of the weaknesses of the committee’s notorious attempt to construct a horse, only to end up with a camel. Nothing but admiration for the performers (notably Peter Fitz in several roles), but allied with that, irritation at some who kept missing (or being missed by) the lights, and annoyance at that particular committee who -must have decided that performances were top priority, and such considerations as blocking, sight lines, lighting and tempo, all incidentals. If the evening showed anything it was precisely how necessary a good director is for a talented group of actors. Maybe not the director Stein seems to have become, but the one he once was. Not the superstar, who can afford to stage sumptuous spectacles because his position as the adored enfant terrible is secure, but the leader of an ensemble whose members see questioning and constructive dissent as the productive forces they can be. For divergent opinions should be fostered as a necessary corrective to smugness and to that luke warm glow of satisfaction with a job adequately done which infects too many of those involved with the theatre. And that s a danger as real in Australia as it is in Germany. Michael Morley THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

Roundup from Australian Centre, International Theatre Institute S TO P PRESS: L EA D IN G ITA LIA N D IR E C T O R T O V ISIT A U STR A LIA G iuseppe B arolucci, d ire c to r, of th e T eatro S cu o la/T eatro de R om a, an d leading critic an d exponent of the Italian avant garde th eatre, will visit A u stralia in A ugust. H e will be tak in g p a rt in “ T he F irst A ustralian C onference on Italian a n d Italy T oday” , organised by the F rederick M ay F o undation for Italian Studies, Sydney University, from A ugust 27th to 31st. T he aim of the conference is “ to provide an in tern atio n al and interdisciplinary forum for the study an d in terch an g e of ideas on the political, cu ltu ral a n d social conditions of present day Italy” . P a rtic i pan ts will com e from Italy a n d o th er p a rts of A ustralia. B artolucci will be presenting a p a p e r entitled “ D ecentralisation an d th e avant garde th e a tre ” . A fter the conference he will p articip ate in interstate se m in a r/ w orkshops on avant garde th eatre. H is visit will be funded by the A u stralia C ouncil an d various Italian com panies. People w anting fu rth e r inform ation should contact: T he Secretary, F rederick M ay F o u n d atio n for Italian Studies, U niversity of Sydney, NSW 2006. Tel: 692-2874. A M E R IC A N N EW S T he Jap an -U n ited States

F rien d sh ip

Com m ission aw arded its first professional th e a tre to u r g ra n t of $100,000 to the A m erican C onservatory T h eatre. T he p u r poses of th e C om m ission, established by C ongress in 1975, are to “ aid education a n d cu ltu re a t the highest level in o rd er to enhance reciprocal people-to-people u n d erstan d in g an d to su p p o rt th e close friendships an d m utuality of interest betw een the U n ited States a n d Ja p a n .” ACT will p resen t two plays from its repertory, A ll The Way Home a h d Ah, Wilderness! an d will play a two-week engagem ent at the new Sogetsu K aikan T h eatre in dow ntow n Tokyo. Viola Spolin, creato r of the T h eatre G am e system a n d a u th o r of Improvisation fo r the Theater an d Theater Games File, will con d u ct an intensive six-week sum m er w orkshop for actors an d th eatre p ro f essionals. T h e w orkshop, en titled Theatre Games — The Key to Improvisation, will be held at the Spolin T h eatre G am e C enter, 6600 S an ta M onica B oulevard, Hollywood, CA 90038, from June 27 to A ugust 4, 1978. T he London A cadem y of M usic an d D ram atic A rt a n d the M ichael S chulm an W orkshop, Inc. from New Y ork will hold a jo in t p ro g ram m e of four weeks of intensive study a t LAM DA , in London, from July 17 — A ugust 11, 1978. T he program m e features twenty five hours of classes per week. LAM DA teachers will hold classes in Shakespeare, voice, scene study, move m ent an d stage fighting. M ichael S chulm an, form er in stru cto r at th e Lee S trasberg T h e a tre In stitu te, will conduct

classes in “ T he A m erican M eth od” . T he p ro g ram m e will also include guest lectures a n d tickets to six London th eatre p ro d uctions. — C ourtesy of the A m erican IT I Newsletter, A pril 1978. N EW PL A Y SC R IPTS T he H u n g arian C entre of th e IT I has been carrying ou t a very valuable th eatrical service for over a year now. It h as collected new plays by renow ned playw rights from all p a rts of the world, tra n sla te d them into E nglish, F rench an d oth er languages an d d istrib u ted them to all IT I centres. The A u stralian C entre of th e IT I now h as approxim ately fifty new scripts tra n s lated into E nglish, an d those interested in receiving a list of these plays should contact the office. D AN CE IN F O R M A T IO N N E E D E D T he H u n g arian C entre of th e IT I has also sta rte d an inform ation b ulletin on dance in various countries an d d istributed th ree issues th ro u g h o u t the world. T he aim of th e B ulletin is to inform on dance co m panies’ staff, stru ctu re, first nights, guest perform ances etc. to create an “ in tern atio n al flow of dance in fo rm atio n ” . T he editor, G P D ienes, H u ngarian C entre of th e IT I, 1077 B udapest, Hevesi Sandor T er 4, w ould like news from A u stralian dance com panies ab o u t cu rren t seasons, b o th p a st an d fu tu re for p u b li cation in th e next issue. Susan P aterson, IT I E ditor.

MUSICALS FOR AMATEUR SOCIETIES AND SCHOOLS J.C. Williamson Theatres Limited holds the amateur rights for many popular musicals, including great shows of the past with music by Lehar, Friml, Romberg, Jerome Kern, Victor Herbert and Lionel Monckton. Every one of these shows has been a success on the professional stage. Why not have your school or Amateur Musical Society do their own production of one of them? You can choose from many wonderful shows including the following:—

BRIGADOON THE SENTIMENTAL BLOKE MAID OF THE MOUNTAINS THE ARCADIANS THE DUCHESS OF DANZIG SALLY THE RED MILL HIGH JINKS

PAINT YOUR WAGON THE DESERT SONG THE MERRY WIDOW THE CHOCOLATE SOLDIER THEFIREFLY THE LILAC DOMINO VERONIQUE THE GEISHA

MAN OF LA MANCHA THE NEW MOON OUR MISS GIBBS

A COUNTRY GIRL KATINKA THE GAIETY GIRL GOING UP VIKTORIA AND HER HUSSAR THE QUAKER GIRL A WALTZ DREAM WILDFLOWER FLORADORA VERY GOOD EDDIE

For further information contact Mr. J. Bryson, Amateur Rights Department, Comedy Theatre, 240 Exhibition Street, MELBOURNE 3000. ’Phone: 663-3211. Costumes for the above shows and many others are available from J.C. Williamson Hire Department, Cohen Place Melbourne 3000. Bookings accepted 12 months in advance. For free quote ring Melbourne (03) 663 2406. 20

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

Theatre/V ictoria

This MTC production is a landmark. TH E B E A U X STR A TA G EM RAYMOND STANLEY

The Beaux’ Stratagem by George Farquhar. Melbourne Theatre Company, Athenaeum Theatre, Melbourne, Vic. Opened May 4, 1978. Director, F ra n k H a u s e r; set, T o n y T rip p ; costumes, K im C a rp e n te r; fight arranged by W illia m Z a p p a ; choreography, C o lle tte M ann.

Bonniface, Don B a rk e r ; Cherry, L y n e tte C u rra n ; Tapster, Joh n B o w m a n ; Aimwell, M e rv y n D r a k e ; Archer, D a v id D o w n e r; Dorinda, S a lly C a h ill; Mrs Sullen, J e n n ife r H a g a n ; Sullen, Ia n S u d d a rd s ; Scrub, E d w in Hodgem an; Gibbet, John S ta n to n ; Gipsey, K a ty W ild ; Foigard, J o n a th a n H a rd y ; Count Bellair, R o b e rt E s s e x ; Countrywoman, B e tty B o b b itt; Lady Bountiful, Ire n e In e s c o rt; Hounslow, S te p h e n B is le y ; Bagshot, P e te r C u rtin ; Sir Charles Freeman, M ic h a e l E d g a r; Travellers, V ito A re n a , B e tty B o b b itt, P e te r C u rtin , K a ty W ild .

At last the M TC has com e up w ith a classical production abou t w hich one can unreservedly rave. A nd th e big surprise is th a t it is the type of classic h ard est for A ustralians to perform , being th e early 18th century The B eaux’ Stratagem. U sually considered G eorge F a rq u h a r’s best play, The B eaux’ Stratagem was w ritten in six weeks in his th irtie th year. He died not long after its first perform ance at L ondon’s H aym arket in 1707. It is generally conceded th a t h a d he lived on he w ould have been a d ram atist of consider able significance, far surpassing any of his contem poraries. Strangely, his The Recruiting Officer is b etter know n in this country, a n d is in fact the first know n perform ed play in A ustralia — in 1789 by convicts. The B eaux’ Stratagem can be consider ed to contain some autobiographical segm ents in it, since F a rq u h a r is know n to have m arried a country-w om an for her supposed fortune of seven h u n d re d pounds a year, only to discover it was non-existent. T he two m ain characters, A rcher and Aimwell, are on the look-out for rich heiresses to wed. Also th e play ends am icably w ith a proposed divorce, an d there are som e grounds for believing th a t at th e tim e of w riting it, F a rq u h a r was proposing to desert his wife. T he p a rt of M rs Sullen, the rich society w om an, m arried to an u n co u th country squire who is only interested in h er money, is generally considered one of the best com edy roles in the classics. W ith the

Michael Edgar (Sir Charles Freeman) and Jennifer Hagan (Mrs Sullen) in the MTC’s The Beaux’Stratagem. Photo: David Parker. ____ exception of M rs Siddons, nearly all the leading actresses of the 18th century played it. In 1927, a n d again in 1930, D am e E d ith Evans h a d an enorm ous success w ith th e p a rt. I myself saw Kay H am m o n d in John C lem ents’ prod u ctio n (in w hich he played A rcher) which ra n for over five h u n d re d perform ances in 1949; an d th en again in 1957 saw a B irm ingham R epertory C om pany p roduction w hich h a d A lbert Finney as A rcher and, in th e role of Aimwell, Colin G eorge (now d irector of th e S outh A u stralian T h eatre Company). M aggie Sm ith played th e role for B ritain ’s N ational T h eatre C om pany in 1970. K nowing how R estoration-type plays require expert playing in style an d m an n ers, I ap p ro ach ed th e prod u ctio n w ith an excited anticip atio n m ingled with trep id atio n . In theory one could th in k of nobody b e tte r eq u ip p ed in A u stralia for th e two m ain roles th a n Jennifer H agan a n d D avid D owner. In retrospect I am full of p raise for alm ost everything a b o u t the p ro d u ctio n , a n d in p artic u la r for F ra n k H au ser’s m asterly direction. T he p lo t of The B ea u x’ Stratagem is p robably m ore straight-forw ard a n d less clu ttered w ith sub-plots a n d ch aracters th a n a g reat m any oth er 17th a n d 18th century plays. A t th e sam e tim e, m ost A u stralian directors inadvertently would have m an ag ed somehow to m ake it a p p ear confused. In H au ser’s sure h an d s though, from th e very beginning it com es over clear-cut, w ith every sentence ap p earin g m eaningful. H ere a n d there subtle little touches of am using ‘business’ are in tro

duced, b u t never grossly expanded as so frequently occurs in M TC productions. Only in the final fight scene is there a tendency to overplay for laughs — an d this is probably th e fau lt of W illiam Z ap p a who a rran g ed th e fight. It is difficult to believe th e perform ances com ing from som e actors whose abilities one h as ten d ed previously to u n d er-rate. U nconsciously th e im pression is frequently created th a t one is w atching a com pany of skilled E nglish actors a t work, as ex e m p lif ie d in th e re c e n t C h ic h e s te r pro d u ctio n of The Apple Cart. Such ensem ble playing has not been seen from the M TC since G u th rie’s prod u ction of A ll’s Well That Ends Well. Q uite obviously th e experienced guidance of H au ser is responsible. Edw in H odgem an seems to get every ounce o u t of th e role of Scrub, an d then some m ore; Lynette C u rran as C herry once again reveals w hat stren g th a n d versatility she is capable of if given th e direction; Sally C ahill — a t last getting away from h er Tittle girl’ roles — proves w ith D orinda she is quite able to carry off m ore m atu re roles w ith aplom b: of all th e old ladies Irene Inescort h as played a t th e M TC , none h as seem ed m ore realistic or en d e a r ing th a n h e r Lady B ountiful (a pity it could n o t have been th e m odel for h e r one-level disagreeable M m e D esm ortes); Jo n ath an H ardy h as never ap p eared to display such re stra in t as F oigard, an d so is all the m ore effective; a n d u n til seeing D on B arker as Bonniface, one h a d always felt him to be a m isfit away from th e C raw ford police THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

force. O f the three principals, the role of A rcher ap p ears all too easy for D avid D ow ner an d he sails along w ith th a t m agnificent voice of his, never m issing a trick. M ervyn D rake, always a fine actor, seems a shade u n d er p a r as Aimwell; perh ap s it is in the end the role itself, b u t one has certainly seen him to m ore advantage. Finally we come to Jennifer H agan, whom one would im agine to be the ideal M rs Sullen w ith — like Kay H am m ond and M aggie S m ith — a m an n ered style a n d distinctive voice. M aybe one was expecting ju s t a little too m uch; M iss H agan is always good a n d stands o u t in w hatever she does. B ut in this p a rtic u la r production h er fellow p e r form ers are m ore to her level, a n d she does not seem to go m uch beyond it herself. My personal view is th a t she frowns too m uch, underplays at tim es w hen there should be a tendency ra th e r to overplay an d dom inate the proceedings. Since one credits H auser w ith the o th er p e rfo rm ances, one m ust also hold him responsible for this M rs Sullen. Just th e sam e, I still can n o t th in k of anyone in th e country who could play it better. A gain an d again one blesses th e revolve stage, w hich speeds up the p ro d u ctio n an d helps to m ake it ru n so sm oothly. A n o th er fine, p ractical set from Tony T rip . The costum es of K im C arpenter, are than k fu lly not designed to overshadow the p ro d u ctio n or cause any sensations; however one finds the use of so m any brow ns a n d sim ilar hues som ew hat m onotonous a n d it m ight have been effective to occasionally m ake use of some b rig h t colours, or else p e rh a p s some pastel shades. All in all though, this M TC p ro d u ctio n is a lan d m ark , w hich is likely to be a yardstick for som etim e to come. A pity th a t it can n o t to u r to oth er States. P erh ap s the ABC m ight be p ersuad ed to reco rd it for posterity.

As gimcrack as Busby Berkley himself. TR U E R O M ANCES JACKHIBBERD

True Romances, the Busby Berkleys. Last Laugh Theatre Restaurant and Zoo, Melbourne Vic. Opened March 1978. With Peaches La Creme, Henry Maas, Noel Busby, Neville Tranter, Alf Klimek, Burt Cooper, and the Stuffed Puppets.

R egardless of the p a rtic u la r show on at the tim e, the general atm osphere a t The L ast L augh th eatre re sta u ra n t invariably has an elem ent of audience m an ip u latio n . M any of the staff, in a cultivated fashion, altern ate churlishness an d cynicism w ith flattery. It is a highly successful procedure. T he audiences either acquiesce or lap it up (literally — the night I was there a p a tro n THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

lap p ed up a fru it salad deliberately dashed to the c a rp e t by a waiter). T he cynicism seem s ju stified as houses are stable. W h a t c a n n o t be justified, in any sense, is a sim ilar k ind of cynicism from p erform ers who a re n ’t all th a t inspired. T hey’d be fa r b e tte r off being cynical tow ards th e ir own m aterial o r them selves, preferably before they w alked on stage. W atch in g Peaches La Crem e a n d The Busby Berkleys, I can hardly recall one laugh let alone a last one. A dm ittedly, the audience were moved to lau g h ter a little m ore frequently; a t tim es they were w hipped up into applause. A pro p o rtio n of the m ales even seem ed gulled an d titillated by th e asexual po u tin g sultriness of Peaches. Between a n d b eh in d these sp u rts of ap p reciatio n th e response was a p p ro priately flat. Inevitably, H enry M aas, who sets th e tone of disdain for this trio, felt com pelled to adm onish the crow d as typical S atu rd ay nighters. Peaches La C rem e has one fine attrib u te, h er voice, an in stru m e n t she wields m ost effectively in quasi-blues. Elsewhere, she leans to w oodenness an d inelasticity; h er m usicianship is often lim ited to sudden th u m p in g fortissim os intended, it would ap p ear, to convey passion. H er sex siren act is one th a t would ren d er the very m ast of Ulysses lim p; all c u stard an d no m u stard . No am o u n t of decolletage, plum -coloured lip, leopard skin leering, vertical eye-rolling an d in te rm itte n t pelvic spasm can cam ouflage a paucity of flair, hu m o u r, a n d em otional sting. T he Busby Berkleys, a ttired in taw dry p in k tuxedos, a p p e a r in a series of soda fo u n tain F lan ag an an d A llan routines, to w hich they a tta c h a dim ension of dance a n d m im e, w ith clown-like faces an d pu p p et-lik e choreography. In stead of utilising, th ro u g h h a rd th o u g h t an d work, the p o ten tial comic expressiveness of these

diverse m odes, th e techniques are merely indulged for them selves an d are m uddied a t the sam e tim e. Because th ere is little b eh in d th e displays of pseudo-virtuosity, th e ir e n te rta in m e n t ends up as corny an d slick as th e A m erican co m an d slickness they p u rp o rt to satirise, as gim crack as Busby Berkley him self. As a com edian H enry M aas is m ore goyisch th a n Jewish; he merely trad es off th e th in n e st of Y iddish personae; his h u m o u r is m ore stan d -u p C alifornia. He doesn’t really belong to the great trad itio n of Jewish h u m o u r which is incredibly tough, earth y , existential a n d self-satirical, a very real survival tactic for a tribe of survivors. A riffle th ro u g h a few pages of Leo R o sten ’s The Joys o f Yiddish would .reveal th a t. Any h u m o u r depends on th e allowed ap p reh en sio n by the audience of the essential incongruity. T he feeblest of m aterial can be m ade stupendously funny by sheer tim in g an d lunatic colour in a context of u tte r u n d erstate m en t, as the E nglish com edian H arry T ate dem on stra te d once a n d for all. H enry M aas, whose m aterial is no less feeble, does not allow th e audience in im aginitively. M aybe he doesn’t tru st them , which is only a n o th er way of saying m aybe he does’t tru st him self deep down, hence the h a lf - s ig n a llin g h a lf -m o c k in g n e rv o u s giggles im m ediately after m any a p u n c h line. T he Stuffed P uppets, who m ake up the rest of th e evening, for all th e ir crassness, for all th e ir heavy-handed em phasis on the ineluctability of anim al ap petite, have a loud sense of fun. A lot of th eir sketches ten d to be facile a n d underdeveloped, yet the p u p p e ts them selves are clever inven tions, skillfully m an ip u lated . O ne episode, concerning a jilted yellow frog, is by far the fu n n iest for th e night, a n d th e only one th a t is a t all affecting.

Theatre/N SW

Must be played more as comedy than classic TH E M IS A N TH R O P E LUCY WAGNER

The Misanthrope by Moliere. translation by Tony Harrison. Old Tote Theatre Company, Drama Theatre, Sydney, NSW. Opened 26 April 1978. Director, T e d C ra ig ; Designer, A n n e F ra s e r.

Alceste. B a rry O tto ; Celimene, K a te F it z p a t r ic k ; Oronte, Jon E w in g ; Philinte, R a y m o n d D u p a rc ; Eliante, J u d i F a rr; Arsinoe. J u d y N u n n ; Acaste, T r e v o r K e n t; Clintandre, R u s s e ll K e ife l, Secretary, G ra e m e R a tc liffe ; Dubois, P e te r R o w le y ; Basque, Ron R a tc liff. Tony H arrison h ad w hat comes across in the finished pro d u ct as one of those spontaneously brillian t ideas in tran slatin g an d transposing M oliere’s comedy The Misanthrope. T he original play is a work of genius satirising seventeenth century society, its aspirations a n d affectations, w ith a rapier-like b u t dually b a rb e d wit, b u t it is h a rd today to ex tract a fresh th eatrical sharpness from the archaic rhym ing couplets. Tony H arrison h as kept the verse form , b u t u p d ate d it an d m ost of the allusions — to de G aulle’s P aris — which, far from dulling the edge, keeps the th ru st an d parry going a t speed. A precise social setting is essential to b o th the form and content of The M isanthrope (indeed to this type of comedy), Alceste m ust be able to rebel against a p a rtic u la r situation, a n d the Paris of the ’60’s is a m ost a p p ro p riate environm ent in which to place a m odern day Alceste. T he F rench existentialist m ovem ent h a d at th a t tim e reach ed its p o p u lar apogy an d was ju st beginning to find itself countered by a wave of the gentler philosophy of the new hum anism , an d A lceste’s rigorous social principles which prove to be im practical in term s of real life, are rendered im potent by the em otions of which his would-be m odus o p erandi takes no account. In general term s the P arisian social set has doubtless changed very little from th en to now, with idleness giving rise to exaggerated social interaction an d diletante interests in the arts. (The aspiring literati may not by then have been so com m on in A ustralian circles, b u t ju s t as a gratuitous idea, an excellent m etaphor, perhaps, for diletante theatricals.) A lthough the O ld Tote pro d u ctio n was sm ooth in the extrem e, it somehow conveyed an effect of displacem ent; of location, situation and ch aracter. T he set,

th ough suggesting suitable oppulence ap p eared , because of the trap -d o o r like staircase, to be an attic room in which was surprisingly located a b a r an d ra th e r u n com fortable looking sofa. (W ith the m inute gap betw een sofa an d coffee tables, a n d all the stairs to be negotiated, the acto rs’ agility m u st be applau d ed .) T his im plied n eith er C elim ene’s salon, n o r a room to an d from which people would natu rally drift from a larger party else where. T he dispro p o rtio n ate setting also h ad the effect of m aking Barry O tto ’s Alceste, who is alm ost constantly on stage, look quite a t hom e in this p erh ap s eccentric room , w hereas Celimese w andering in an d o u t could well have been th e discom fitted visitor. O tto ’s Alceste was a thoroughly likeable chap a n d quite u n d erstan d ab le in his e x a s p e r a tio n w ith K a te F i t z p a t r i c k ’s C elim ene, b u t his expressions of anger were so lacking in tendentiousness an d volatility th a t R aym ond D uparc a n d Judi F a rr as th e two m oderates, h ad little scope for con trast. T h ough Celim ene in h er letters views Alceste as ju s t one m ore extrem e in a society of extrem es, he is not p u t in the role of the outsid er ridiculed an d pilloried, as in classical comedy an d M oliere’s oth er work. He retain s his great integrity an d th a t p u ts him above all others who do not, a n d even those who do have it b u t com prom ise; so why does he continue to love C elim ene? T his prod u ctio n leaves the question unansw ered, for K ate F itz p a tric k ’s siren is one only of poses. The intelligence a n d wit th a t leaves h er even finally in control of h er followers does not travel th ro u g h th e lines into the p erso n

ality. As the recipient of th e strongest feelings of m ost of th e characters, she u n fortunately leaves a gaping hole at the centre of the play. A lthough it is p a rt of the “ classics” season, a n d The M isanthrope is a classic comedy, it m u st be played m ore as a comedy th a n classic. A t th e T ote it loses power by app aren tly being treated w ith too m uch reverence; Tony H arriso n ’s text is fun an d funny. It would be invidious and irrelevant to com pare this one to the London p ro d u ctio n w ith Alec M cCowen an d D ian a Rigg, except to say th a t there the audiences laughed a t every o th er line (each couplet) because they were spoken as they were w ritten, often in self-m ockery, while th e D ra m a T h eatre audience listened in hallow ed silence; a n d th a t I far p referred Judy N u n n ’s m ore subtle and spiky A rsinoe.

Keeping prejudices intact. J O U R N E Y ’S END ROMEO AND JU L IE T GREG CURRAN

Journey’s End by R C Sherrif. Marian Street Theatre, Killara, NSW. Opened 14 April 1978. Director, A la s ta ir Duncan; Designer, M ic h a e l O ’ K a n e . Hardy, T o m M c C a rth y ; Osborne, Joe J a m e s ; Mason, Jo h n L a rk in g ; Raleigh, D a m ie n P a r k e r ; Stanhope, T im H u g h e s ; Trotter, C u rt J a n s e n ; Hibbert, K e v in H o w a rd ; CSM, Ron H a c k e tt; Colonel, V in c e n t B a ll; German Soldier, T e r r y P e c k . THEATRE ALSTRALIA JUNE 1978

Journey’s End, w ritten ju s t ten years after the A rm istice, in 1928, has a little som ething for everyone. A nd p erh ap s not quite enough for anyone. As w ar plays go it is fairly free from false heroics yet for those who still see the w orld in term s of the E m pire as top dog, it does not lack a certain cosiness and com placency. It says th a t everyone in k haki was n o t a hero, yet it adm ires heroism an d m akes the regim ental cow ard abject, craven a n d ridiculous. It indicates th a t in the trenches m en were frightened indeed, b u t on the other h a n d ju s t needed firm tre a tm e n t (like the b arrel of a gun pressed to the tem ple) to snap them out of it. Journey’s E nd deplores the w asted lives of war, b u t takes the fact of w ar as given. It expresses a sort of m ild disillusionm ent, while dispensing reassurance. M aybe th a t is why the author, caught so often sitting on the trench, can only go for types in his dramatis personae, there are some m inor successes and the odd m om ent of reality, b u t no depth or consistency. Even the play’s physical fo rm at is a p aradox. It has a front line setting, yet for the g reater p a rt of the evening uses the w ar as a m ere b ackdrop. A nd, although talk prevails over action, the dialogue hardly begins to tap the vein of serious concern one m ight have expected from the literary clim ate of the late tw enties, in the wake of such anti-w ar stalw arts as E d m u n d B lunden, Siegfried Sassoon, and R obert G raves. T he a u th o r R C Sherriff h a d begun to write a novel on the them e of hero w orship betw een two schoolboys, S tanhope and R aleigh. L ater this was scrap p ed an d Raleigh becam e a new chum officer in a B ritish dug-out in Picardy. Stanhope is the adm ired senior officer, a form er school cap tain w hen Raleigh was in p rim ary school, engaged to R aleigh’s sister. B ut S tanhope is drinking him self into a stupor. He finds the presence of R aleigh an em barrassm ent, fearful of w hat he m ight write hom e an d so on. If Sherriff h ad paralleled the b lin d hero w orship of school days with the false values of war; dram atized the giving an d tak in g of stupid and dangerous orders, m aybe analysed the substitution of one set of authority figures for another, tran slated , as it were, the playing fields of E ton to F landers Fields, or even w ritten a play about the effects of a great disillusionm ent on Raleigh, Journey’s E nd m ight have becom e a classic, of sorts. But little of this em erges. S tanhope’s resentm ent of the younger m an is based on fear of discovery, and he lacks the cunning to su p p o rt even th a t motive. Raleigh should see th ro u g h S tanhope at once — he seems a raving m ad m an from the start. T h ere’s a nasty scene where S tanhope dem ands to see R aleigh’s letters hom e on the grounds (quite spurious since norm ally unobserved) th a t all m ail m ust be censored, an d an am azing sequence of the D Ts which is not public b u t hardly private either an d unlikely to inspire confidence. A nd th a t’s in the first half. Yet later in the play S tanhope (looking, in T im H ughes’ perform ance, healthy and capable at all tim es, despite the occasional rigors ] is the m an of action, stage m anaging an a b su rd foray beh in d G erm an lines (though the 24

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

a u th o r doesn’t send him personally), carrying o u t o rders yet protesting a t loss of life. S tanhope is “ loyal” above all to his m en a n d deals w ith the higher-ups in a m ore or less disapproving fashion. The play accepts th e idiocies of the high co m m an d as som ething to be looked to a n d obeyed, albeit w ith regret. M oreover he is able to d em o n strate local discipline by “ p la c a tin g ” a m ad-w ith-fear ju n io r officer (H ibbert). In this scene S tanhope points a gun at the h ead of the u n fo rtu n ate m an, and, w hen th e la tte r doesn’t agree to stay an d fight (only because death is preferable) co n g ratu lates his sub o rd in ate on his supposed courage (this could have been ironic, b u t noth in g seems intended). T hen, after reducing H ib b ert to a m ore tractab le k ind of nervous wreck, he explains in a kindly m an n er th a t he too is afraid. As th e evening progresses one w onders if S tanhope is m ean t to be schizoid, is it the w ar or is he ju s t a dangerous m isfit? W hen “ U n c le ” O s b o rn , a n o ld e r o ffic e r; S tan h o p e’s friend, confidant an d “ n an n y ” (he tu ck s him in at tim es of great pissedness) is sent w ith Raleigh on the trip b eh in d enemy lines and is killed, the grieving S tanhope behaves like a pig to Raleigh. Yet it was not the priggish co m m an d er b u t the u n fo rtu n ate ju n io r who h a d to tu ck a G erm an soldier u n d er his arm an d drag him b ack to the English lines (an im age not entirely free from comedy). No, R aleigh is only to get sym pathy from his hero w hen a shell blows him in half. Sentim ental, ill m otivated, m endacious even, this scene is still the best in the play, and quite moving. M anipulation of the tear ducts may have no necessary con n ect ion w ith art, or even a good play, b u t Sherriff has done well here, against the odds he has set him self. In a n o th er good b it the G erm ans are acknow ledged as decent — they allowed

two of “ o u r boys” to carry a w ounded m an b ack to cam p, a n d lit them on th eir way. A lthough this is only told a n d not very im m ediate, it is perfectly acceptable. But com pare how m uch b e tte r som ething sim ilar is done in Oh What a Lovely War!. T here you m ay recall, the G erm ans and the E nglish were un ited on C hristm as Eve by the fo rm er’s singing of “ Silent N ight” , a tem porary truce was declared, and p resents (and good wishes) swopped. A nd th ere of course even the vague sim ilarity ends — Oh W hat a liv e ly War! satirizes the E nglish high com m and, exposes incom petence, co rru p tio n an d the venality of the w ar m ongers, rages over w asted lives. Little of this im pinges on the quiescent w orld of Journey s End, nor for the m ost p a rt, do the shells an d m ortar. U ntil the end, th a t is, when some of the set falls coyly down. T here is m ore atm o s phere of co m b at in Oh What a Lovely War (which is, after all, a song an d dance revue) th a n in all this fusty “ realistic” dram a. At K illara the cast look too neat th ro u g h o u t to suggest contact w ith the seam ier aspects of tren ch life (like rats, or seeping w ater). A nd since S tanhope and Raleigh are alm ost unplayable — Tim H ughes a n d D am ien P ark er are only effective interm itten tly (the form er an unconvincing d ru n k , the la tte r largely confined to gulped “ sorrys” an d general em barrassm ent). Elsew here, things are better. A lthough A listair D u n c a n ’s p ro d u ctio n rarely deve lops the relationships beyond the flat bones of the text, it is careful a n d well paced, an d n o t w ithout a certain atm os phere. N othing drags too m uch a n d there is good acting from Joe Jam es (a w arm h u m an O sborn), C u rt Jansen a n d Tom M cC arthy (am using as officers) a n d John L arking (chief cook an d b ottle washer). Indeed Journey’s E nd is not really boring an d som etim es entertain in g . W hey then do I find it irritatin g ?

W ell in the first place, to be deem ed worthy of revival, shouldn’t old w ar plays have som ething to tell us, sh o u ld n ’t they raise o u r consciousness ju s t a bit? Isn ’t w ar too im p o rtan t to be represented on stage by well m ade ch at plays. A ren ’t th eatre audiences aware enough to be bored by cheery drivel. Probably not. W ith Journey’s E nd a su b u rb a n audience can congratulate itself on the enlightened discovery th a t w ar is a beastly affair, and at the sam e tim e retain its’ prejudices intact. Few conservative voters are known to have opposed V ietnam , a n d if the Federal G overnm ent reintroduced con scription tom orrow , I d o u b t anyone would tak e to the streets of K illara, Journey’s E nd notw ithstanding. W hy is the set for the A ctor’s Com pany Romeo and Juliet fram ed in gauzy green tulle? Is the play taking place in a forest, or a sw am p? W hy are the women fully clothed an d the m en in various states of undress. Rom eo for instance ap p ears in a J u n g le Boy s a ro n g , M e rc u tio lo o k s draughty in a tunic. F riar L aurence is voguish in p rin ted caftans, w ith a b a n d a n a an d gold chain at m ore form al m om ents. I t’s no use asking why the director d id n ’t restrain the w orst excesses of th e acting because, a p a rt from K ate Ferguson (Juliet) and John P aram o r (M ercutio) there isn’t any. N or can one recom m end cuts — h e ’s done th a t already (I w asn’t com plaining). Still we m ight legitim ately ask why Romeo and Juliet couldn’t have been left in peace on the library shelf, w here school children m ay get some idea of w hat it’s about. In this p roduction, when the play ends, it’s not only the lovers th a t are laid o u t cold.

Not just exonerated but extolled. C O M ED Y OF ERRORS ROBERT PAGE

Comedy of Errors by William Shakespeare. Nimrod Theatre. Sydney, NSW. Opened 21 April 1978. Director. Joh n B ell; Designer. L a rry E a s tw o o d ; Costumes. V ic k i F e its c h e r; Lighting. D a v id R e a d , Stage Manager, M a r g ie W r ig h t. The Duke, Officer. R o b e rt L e v is ; Egeon, Balthasar, H e n ry Szep s; Antipholus, M a lc o lm K e ith ; Antipholus, Tony S h e ld o n ; Dromio, Joh n M c T e rn a n ; Dromio, D re w F o rs y th e ; Adriana. M a g g ie D e n c e ; Luciana. E liz a b e th L a n c a s te r; Nell. Aemilia. M a g g ie B lin c o ; Angelo. Cafe Proprietor, R o b e rt D a v is ; Dr Pinch, Merchant, R o b e rt H e w e tt; Courtesan, A n n a V o ls k a .

W hen a theatre com pany reaches a certain stage of m aturity an d accom plish m ent there is a tendency especially am ong the m ore senior of critics, to dem onstrate their prowess by looking with p atronage, disdain an d even scorn upon their offerings. O therw ise how can one explain the response of two of ou r m ajor critics (in The Australian and The Bulletin) to

Comedy O f Errors?

Robert

Davis

(Angelo), Malcolm Keith (Antipholus) and John McTernan (Dromio) in Nimrod's Comedy o f Errors. Photo: Robert McFarlane.

W ere they to address them selves to researching even fairly recent exam ples of various pro d u ctio n s they w ould discover alm ost to the po in t of consistency how often th e play has been p lu n d ered for its e n te rta in m e n t potential. It has spaw ned an o p eretta, the A m erican M usical The Boys From Syracuse an d even in the hallow ed halls of th e Royal Shakespeare C om pany h as h a d nine songs interspersed th ro u g h its text, w inning for Shakespeare several “ b est m u sical” aw ards in 1976! John Bell, then, m ust fall in th e line of fire w ith such o th er directional lightw eights as Kom isarjevsky, Clifford W illiam s an d T revor N unn. T h eatrical precedent alone can n o t defend Bell from th e argum ent th a t he should have ignored o r tran scen d ed such illustrious peers. He m ust finally stan d or fall in relation to the text itself. H ere I believe he should not only be exonerated, b u t extolled, a n d not merely for the m an n e r in which his ord ain ed business for actors cuts like a shining scythe th ro u g h th e dense undergrow th of allusions, refer ences a n d p uns — for th a t is a m a tte r of opinion — b u t m ore - arguably th e con fluence of the style of this p roduction with th a t im plied by th e text. P erh ap s o u r tw in critical em inences m ight have addressed them selves to the way th e play itself flows from the m ingling of two stream s, viz rom antic an d classical comedy. A nd th e form er to a g reat extent bookends the la tte r in this play. T h u s when one of them “ settles dow n” after H enry Szeps’ moving speech as the fath er in search of a lost family an d sentenced to d eath for being found on alien territory "in the confident expectation th a t th e play (would) be coherent as well as e n te r ta in in g ” , som ething is expected th a t the play itself can n o t provide. F or th e play shifts from its rom antic beginnings (in any case largely a cleverly assim ilated prologue) to the classical sta n d p o in t of its sources. A nd classical comedy h a d no place for such sad old m en,

save as th e w hips a n d scorns of youth, b u t was a boisterous farce d ependent on the very k n o ck ab o u t, crude an d tricksy h u m o u r w hich these critics disdain so in this p ro d u ctio n . Even L arry E astw ood s gaudy w hirligig set, to my m ind, has a m asterful cogence; farce alm ost by defini tion req u ires n u m erous doors; to cram p th em o nto a carousel m irro r b o th the em broiled plots of th e central scenes and th eir w hirling, ravelled succession. The fairg ro u n d effect contains w ithin it the p ain ted m agic an d taw dry pleasure seeking of th e E phesian setting (looked upo n as a k in d of C airo of its day). If th e actors often look like p u p p ets it is because th eir strings are n o t being gently tugged by tenderly h u m a n plots of later, m ore typical S hakespearian comedy, b u t jan g led by th e m echanical com plexities of a classically R om an kind. Indeed Bergson, th e g reat theoretician of the comic, disputes th e possibility of the h u m an em pathy the critics saw as w anting, “ lau g h ter h as no greater enem y th a n em otion . . . comedy m ust n o t move m e” , an d m ore to th e p o in t “ attitu d es, gestures of the h u m a n body are comic in exactly the sam e p ro p o rtio n as the body m akes us th in k of a sim ple m ach in e” . The m a c h in a tio n s a ris e fro m S h ak esp eare’s ringing all the p erm u tatio n s possible from placing two sets of twins, the A ntipholuses a n d th eir servant D rom ios, u n beknow nst to each other, in the sam e place a t the sam e tim e. T he one alien to E phesus is played as a gauche to u rist by Tony Sheldon, only slowly realising his vulnerability to the sam e th re a t which hangs over his fath er, an d w ith increasing fear for th e m istaken fam iliar reception he receives. W ere it a “ d a rk ” comedy the belief he comes to th a t E phesus is a place of “ D ark w orking sorcerers” an d “ Soul-killing w itches” could be played for profound significance; here Bell w ith a k ind of topicality the E lizabethans would have THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

Theatre/SA app lau d ed , arm s his actors with lazer swords straig h t out of Star Wars. O r again, were it a rom antic comedy, this A n tipholus’ genuinely lyrical flight after falling head over heels for L uciana, actually his sister-in-law , could not be m et by the ingenuous deflating stare of a pain ted doll (E lizabeth Lancaster). In classical m ode there is m uch ado about the sexual them e, b u t little on the cause of tru e love. A driana, wife of the lo c a l m a n - a b o u t- to w n A n tip h o lu s (M alcolm Keith), m ust no t be allowed to wallow in “ the h u rt an d jealousy b eh in d (her) p red icam en t” . Q uite th e opposite, she is a virago who has driven h er h u sb a n d from h er door — as her m other-in-law is later to point out. She may be m ore fully realised th an the classical shrew, b u t is only catching the tw entieth century conscience when she asks “ W hy should a m an 's liberty th a n ours be m ore” . N or should Ann V olska’s brassily seductive playing of the C ourtesan be delved for social com m ent. T h a t she has no excuse for her m ercenary a ttitu d e an d the “ services” she provides for the m ales of the com m unity is possibly m ore acceptable to our own tim es an d certainly to the R om ans th a n to the rom antic E liza b ethans, who at least publicly stood for fidelity in m arriage. T he D rom ios too are the stereotyped clowns of classical comedy, save w hen the panto -d am e cook (M aggie Blinco) nearly brings one to a dom estic roost. Both suffer the (literal) k n ockabout dispensed by th eir m asters, though b oth serve too as confidants. A gain Bergson (and, spec ulatively, such irrepressible E lizab eth an clowns as T arlto n an d K empe) su p p o rts the use of vaudevillian tricks in th e service of true comedy; the “ accom plishm ent” of John M cT ernan an d Drew Forsythe in this regard, then, can hardly be m ade th e basis for pejorative com m ent. Such a style is neither trendy nor a “ devaluation of S hakespeare” , rath e r it is a cu ttin g away of false posturing and ra n t, b a c k to som ething m uch closer to w hat th a t playw right’s stage practised. If the production has faults, a n d no one would claim it perfect, to my m ind they are m ore the faults of trying to constrict m ovem ent to the confines of th e carousel, or in the use of actors for the A ntipholuses who are too dissim ilar in looks an d m an n er — though of course to have th em indiscem ably identical would d efeat the play. T his production, as cheekily suggested by the kewpie dolls, shows th a t directorial im agination has come a long way since Ray L aw ler’s heyday. Some m ust w ant it to rem ain the sinking sand of n atu ralism (actually a brief ab erratio n when d ram atic history is tak en as a whole); it saddens th a t any critic can long for the “ reality of (its) first scene” . B ut no, for these were the sam e who ap plauded an actually less stylistically defensible bag of tricks for

Much Ado. W illiam A rcher once wrote “ W h at one requires in the th eatre is, so to speak, a certain pressure of pleasurable sensations to the square inch, or ra th e r to the m in u te” . John Bell’s genius stands, in my view, on his ability to provide ju s t th a t. 26

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

1 + 2 HENRY IV BY W ILLIA M SH A K ESPEA R E TONY BAKER King Henry the Fourth, R o nald F a lk ; Sir John Falstaff. K e v in M ile s ; Bardolph. Earl of Douglas, L e s lie D a y m a n ; Mistress Quickly. D a p h n e G re y ; Doll Tearsheet, P a tric ia K e n n e d y ; Northumberland, Justice Shallow, R obin B o w e rin g ; Hotspur, Justice Silence, G a ry F ile s ; Westmoreland, P a tric k F ro s t; Prince Hal, M ic h a e l S ib e rr y ; Worcester, Bullcalt, Davey, P au l S o n k illa ; Poins. C o lin F rie ls ; Gadshill, Sir Richard Vernon, Mouldy, M el G ib s o n ; Peto, Feeble, Prince John of Fancaster, M ic h a e l F u lle r; Sir Walter Blunt, Hotspur’s Retainer, W a y n e J a r r a tt; Fady Percy, Whore, M ic h e le S ta y n e r; Fady in Waiting, Whore, J u d y D a v is ; Traveller, Whore, C h ris M a h o n e y ; Francis, Shadow, T o n y P re h n ; Carrier. Prince Humphrey of Gloucester, P e te r S c h w a rz ; Traveller, Wart, Joh n F ra n c is ; Chamberlain. Prince Clarence, M ic h a e l F re u n d t. Adapted and Directed by C o lin G e o rg e ; Setting and Costumes Designed by H ugh C o lm a n ; Lighting Designed by N ig e l L e v in g s .

Colin G eorge becam e the latest in the long an d ap p aren tly unending line of directors who have tak en liberties with Shakespeare for his latest p roduction with the South A u stralian T h eatre Com pany. 1 + 2 H enry IV presents in one 200 m inute p erform ance an am algam of the two p a rts of H enry IV (with a b it of R ichard II a n d H enry V). M r. G eorge’s aim, stated in the program m e notes, was for an en te rta in m e n t “ which outlines the education of a prince, explores his relationship with his fath er an d culm inates in the rejection of his tu to r in vice F alstaff” . Inevitably, anyone who tinkers with Shakespeare opens him self to criticism . W h at is left o ut? F or a sta rt in this production G lendow er does not get a look in an d H o tsp u r dies off-stage a n d th ere is m ore to alarm the p urist. W h at is left in? Essentially, as M r. G eorge says, the scenes between H al a n d F alstaff an d H al an d the king, the c o n trast betw een the worlds of the co u rt an d th e stews. But the real question m ust be: does it succeed? T his critic’s response would be an only slightly qualified yes. F or m uch of its length it is a d ark , alm ost som bre play. The prin cip al characters, at least those above the salt, wear long m ilitary-style cloaks. The stage is m ainly open with wooden platform s and objects (such as a throne, bed an d benches) moved freely in a n d out.

Only in the last scene, which has the crow ned H enry V gorgeously clad in a long robe em blazoned with heraldic devices triu m p h a n t on a p latform high above the stage, is th ere p u re pageantry, m ade all the m ore effective by w hat has gone before and pointing to the fu tu re triu m p h s of a united realm . M r. G eorge's rew orking of the play highlights th eir political aspect (one w onders w hether he was influenced by the Royal Shakespeare C om pany’s p resen t ation of the full cycle at S tratfo rd a decade or m ore ago) an d m akes com pletely u n d ersta n d a b le H al’s rejection of the fat knight. It is not only necessary politics, it is elem entary com m on sense. A distinctive touch as the play moved tow ards this clim ax was the brief scene between the beadles, Hostess Q uickly and Doll T earsh eet in which George also h ad the w hores showing the m arks of a savage w hipping, a n eat rem inder of the cruelty of the tim es. A nother nice touch was th a t after the cu rta in calls (the best finale seen on an A delaide stage for a considerable tim e) the characters filed out with m uch pom p, save Falstaff. He dressed like a general in the Beatles Sergeant Pepper arm y, blew the audience a big kiss. In all, th en , a reading of the W ill which excited interest, stim ulated th o u g h t and which w orked theatrically. The cast, m any of whom played double, a n d some triple, roles acted extrem ely well together. Inevitably atten tio n was focussed on F alstaff, H al an d the king. Kevin M iles’ F alstaff was the best thing he has done in A delaide. P ad d ed in trad itio n al style and, untraditionally, w earing trousers, pullover an d boots for the early scenes, he was suitably o u t rageous, blu sterin g an d jolly. If he lost some of th e p ath o s of the c h a racter (“ We have h e ard the chim es a t m idnight, M aster Shallow) he m issed none of the comedy. M ichael Siberry m ade a youthful b u t com pletely credible Prince Hal. He has a clear voice an d projected a ch aracter whom one realised from the o utset to be m ark ed for leadership and ruthlessness, a m an who only dallies with dalliance. T here was som ething cold abo u t him , a m an who never really forgets him self, still less his position. M r. Siberry’s first S hakespearean lead, it was an im pressive perform ance. R onald F a lk ’s in terp re tatio n of the old king was equally im pressive, a very good voice, in easy control of the poetry a ruler conscious of his approaching d eath and still to rm en ted by his u su rp ation of R ichard. Special m ention is due, too, of D aphne G rey’s M istress Quickly, P atricia K ennedy’s Doll T earsheet an d Leslie D ay m an ’s B ardolph, a trio of rich grotesques a n d of M ichael F uller who, in one of his th ree p arts, gave the audience a deliciously cam p Feeble.

Theatre/W A Malfunctions in the communications panel. GENTS___________________ MIC HAEL MORLEY

Cents by K e ith G a ila s c h . Troupe at the Red Shed. Adelaide. SA. Opened May 4 1978. Director. K e ith G a ila s c h ; Designer. M ic h a e l G e is s le r; Lighting. R ic h a rd C h a ta w a y ; Costumes. P a u la C a r te r . 1 (Maroon). M ic h a e l L e s te r; 2 (Silver). Ron H o en ig ; 3 (Blue), Joh n M c F a y d e n ; 4 (Green), M a rk M u g g e rid g e ; The voice. A lle n L yn e .

Over the last year, several of T ro u p ’s productions h a d been concerned with questioning an d debunking the p a ttern s and presum ptions of A ustralian society, taking as a p articu lar targ et th e m ale and his view of him self. T heir latest production Gents spells out its subject in the title; and to drive hom e the point, opens — one presum es ironically — on a lengthy exchange which exam ines at interm inable length and w ith no great subtlety what p u rp o rts to be the sociological im plica tions of experiences in m ens’ lavatories. (M oderately close encounters of th e other kind?) T he relevance of the dialogue escaped me. “ U rinals I have know n” may well be a topic th a t calls forth an ap p ro p riate (?) response (?) in others more versed th a n I in the ways of the W allaby and his W iddle. But it all cam e out sounding ra th e r like an O cker equivalent of the only m arginally m ore instructive observations of D esm ond M orris in his m an-w atching m eanderings. W hen this sort of pseudo-naturalistic dialogue takes place on a co m p u ter o perated cargo space ship flitting in the n ear fu tu re betw een e a rth a n d God(de-sexed, according to the play)-knowswhere, one can be pard o n ed for thinking th a t w hatever the au th o r may be w anting to say, som e of the audience will be floundering light years b ehind him . And one’s reservations were hardly allayed w hen th e four characters in th e ir flowing futuristic robes advanced up the stairs in each of the four corners of the auditorium an d m im ed m om ents of boot-splashing w ith such a flourish th a t at least two m em bers of the audience sm artly shifted their feet. A t this stage I began to fear th a t the next step would be a lengthy discussion — dem onstration of m astu rb atio n (science friction p erhaps?) Luckily such fears were unrealized. I have nothing b u t ad m iratio n for T ro u p e’s keenness an d th e way it has set about enlivening A delaide th eatre. B ut on all counts Gents is an u nhappy piece of work — the m ore so since it is th e first play the com pany will be showing outside South A ustralia. T he single greatest m istake is setting the play in a sci-fi context: the world of com puter, galaxies, m aterialising presences, star-b u rsts an d the like is totally at odds w ith the language and attitu d es of the all too recognisably Oz

m ales, none of whom is m ore th a n an over-fam iliar stereotype. T here is the in tellectual (M ichael Lester), the sports jo c k (R o n H o e n ig ), th e d re a m in g d e p re s s iv e - m e a n in g seek er (Jo h n M cFadyean), the youth with a future ah ead a n d brow unfurrow ed (M ark M uggeridge). T he conversations betw een them could equally well have tak en place in a w aiting room at a railway station or d o cto r’s surgery (ten years ago they did). A nd all the half-digested borrow ings from Solaris, 2001 (unacknow ledged) an d Lem, Le G uin a n d Calvino (p arad ed in the program m e notes as if to au th en ticate th eir progeny) are merely tinsel an d p ain t, serving at once to d istract the gaze from the w ork’s essential em ptiness an d a t the sam e tim e to lend it an air of intellectual authority w hich is dem onstrably specious. T he play is no m ore “ deliberately sym bolic” (as the a u th o r’s p rogram m e notes assure us) th a n an episode of Dr. Who; an d if anything, considerably less interesting. T he language is mostly unevocative an d inprecise, an d only at m om ents do the ch aracters speak in an individual tone of voice. T he ten o r of the speeches is often so uniform , so u n d if f e r e n tia te d th a t m a n y c o u ld be re-allocated w ithout anyone being the wiser. It is n o t enough to have one c h a racter use odd locker-room im ages to m ark him off as different, o r m ake an o th er alm ost nod wisely when h e’s told he uses big words. L anguage in d ram a should not merely reflect th e a u th o r’s reading a n d /o r a ttitu d es, it should at some stage express its u ser’s a ttitu d es, his way of life, his attem p ts to face up to or avoid his personality. In this play it often sounds as if whole stretches of dialogue h a d been w ritten by a com puter; the depersonalised n eu tral idiom dulls th e ear an d deadens the sensibilities. A nd when this is linked with atte m p ts a t signification th a t encom pass th e cosm os, reb irth , “ feeling, sense an d in tu itio n ” (program m e notes) and E rich F ro m m on p rim al p atria rc h a l m yths, one can surely be excused for finding little “ direct intellectual c o n te n t” (a u th o r’s notes) b u t ra th e r too m any “ m alfunctions in th e com m unications p a n e l” (a u th o r’s text). Mostly th e q u a rte t coped well w ith the problem of developing an ensem ble style in th e face of speeches which isolated each c h a racter b eh in d b arriers of m etap h o r an d thickets of self-analysis. Ron H oenig was suitably belligerent in th e “ Rugby, R acing an d B eer” vein, an d John M cFadyean threw him self energetically into the role of the im p o ten t religious freak facing u n em ploym ent a n d given to ra th e r curious o u tb u rsts of frenzy an d infantilism . M ichael Lester an d M ark M uggeridge h ad the two m ore thankless roles an d m anaged at tim es alm ost to convince one of the ap p ro p riaten ess of the jarg o n a n d catchphrases. A t one m om ent — the la tte r’s long speech a b o u t his experiences as a po stm an — the acto r h it a note of m anic comedy w hich ran g tru e an d was totally absent from th e rest of the work. It would have been to the plays an d the acto rs’ benefit if th e a u th o r h ad tak en b o th his secondary literatu re an d his p rim al myths a little less seriously.

DOUBLING UP CLIFF GILLAM

Sporting Double At the Hole-in-the-Wall Theatre, Perth, WA. Opened April 26. Directed by Jo h n Design by Joh n M ils o n . Stage Director, S te p h e n A m o s . Stage Managers, D a v id M a la c o ri, E d d ie R o w le y . With The Les Darcy Show by J a c k H ib b e rd featuring Les Darcy, N ik G o ld w y n ; Ned Darcy, P h il W ilb ra h a m ; Margaret Darcy, Winnie O’Sullivan, M e rrin C a n n in g ; Mick Hawkins, Bevan Lee; Father Coady, G e ra ld H itc h c o c k ; Jack Kearns, A la n F le tc h e r ; Tex Ritter, D a m ie n J a m e s o n and The Roy Murphy Show by A le x a n d e r B u zo . With Roy Murphy, A la n F le tc h e r ; Clarrie Maloney, P h il W ilb ra h a m ; Mike Conolly, N ik G o ld w y n ; Samuel T Bow, G e ra ld H itc h o c k ; Sharon. M e rrin C a n n in g ; Brian (Chicka) Armstrong, B e v a n Lee; Charles Dunhill, D a m ie n J a m e s o n ; Col, D a v id M ils o n .

M a la c a ri.

T h e re ’s a k in d of double-entendre in the H ole’s title for its M ay season of two one-acters a b o u t A ustralians an d sport. T h ere’s the im m ediate application of course to the plays them selves, H ib b erd ’s The Les Darcy Show a n d Buzo’s The Roy M urphy Show, b u t th e re ’s also the fact th a t this is the second tim e aro u n d for this p a rtic u la r double bill a t the Hole, a fact which leads one to suspect th a t th e success of the in itial season, in 1974, has p ro m p ted the Hole m an ag em en t to revive it in ord er to give them selves a sporting chance in the b alance sheets. It should certainly do th a t, the two plays com bining well to m ake up a thoroughly enjoyable O ck er’s n ig h t o u t a t the theatre. F irst up is H ib b e rd ’s Les Darcy Show. T he first of H ib b e rd ’s forays into the w orld of th e “ m ythic” Ossies, of which the second is A Toast to Melba, The Les Darcy Show uses the techniques of vaudeville and m usic h all to relate in a lively, if docu-dram atic k in d of way, the story of the rise an d fall of the M aitlan d T erro r. Les is p ortrayed (and played very well by Nik Golowyn) as the k in d of wide-eyed, good h earted innocent possessed of awesome powers (in this case pugilistic, b u t the p a rtic u la r k ind is irrelevant so long as they’re sporting) who has becom e the type of the A ustralian cham pion athlete. He loves his m um , b u t lives up to the ideals of his boozy Irish D ad. He is exploited by u n scrupulous (boo, hiss) prom oters and finally dies, ignom inously stru ck down by disease in his prim e while chasing pots of world cham pionship gold in Y ankeeland. As sh o rth an d p o p u lar history, H ib b erd ’s play is no t h alf b ad ; as an en tertain m en t its even b etter, the story related a t a THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

cracking pace, w ith lots of songs, dances, jokes an d even room for the odd cam eo role, m uch as G erald H itchcock’s Irish priest. W hile a lot of the fun of Les D arcy is undeniably (and unasham edly) derived from the nostalgic elem ent in th e play, the audience laughing com fortably a t the im age of earlier A ustralians in m uch the sam e way th a t one sm iles over satirical excesses preserved in ten-years old sn a p shots of oneself, B uzo’s Roy M urphy Show brings us b ang up to date w ith some pretty sharp satiric com edy at the expense of th a t institution of w eekend TV, th e p ost m o rtem ’s panel of footy experts. T he code is Rugby League, b u t the panellists in such shows all play the sam e gam e, w hether talking about League or Aussie Rules, a n d Buzo has their m easure. F ast-talk in g Roy, the pan el ch airm an , jousts w ith his regulars, the u p-to-date jo u rn o an d the old-tim e footy hero, an d w ith his guests, a coach an d the player-ofthe-w eek (a four sta r cretin w ith m uscles everywhere, including betw een the ears), while juggling critical ’phone conversa tions (during com m ercial breaks) w ith his m istress, his wife an d his father-in-law , who hap p en s to own the station. A vapid little blonde w ith legs all the way up to her b um keeps tu rn in g up to do ads, a n d all in all, a good tim e is h a d by all, especially the audience. If B uzo’s plot is a little too far-fetched, an d his ending merely silly, the b u lk of the show is ripping good satiric fun. T he cast is the sam e as for Les Darcy of course, an d its interesting to see A lan Fletcher com e from lots of little bits in Les to a strong central role as Roy M urphy, as it is to see M errin C anning move from h er strong perform ance as Les’s C atholic M um to som ething com pletely different b u t equally as strong as S haron, the girl w ith the goodies. T his com pany will be to u ring W A ’s country areas w ith this double bill in June. I t’s an ideal show to take to the country, w here m em ories are longer, an d Les Darcy m ore p erh ap s th a n ju s t a nam e, w here the big city sports show -biz slickery pilloried in Roy M urphy is nonetheless fam iliar via country relays, an d w here live th e a tre is not often experienced, an d w hen it is, is mostly en d u red by the friends a n d relatives of the local D ram atic Society m em bers gamely grinding away at p roductions of rom antic com edies and thrillers, m ost of which are neith er funny, nor thrilling. Sporting Double may help to redeem live th eatre out in the b ack blocks. I’m willing to tak e a p u n t it slays ’em in M uckinbudin. I d o n ’t know w hether this season an d to u r was plan n ed before D irector M ilson’s recent u n fo rtu n ate car-accident, b u t if it was, “ lu ck safo rtu n e” , as the local footy com m entators are in the h a b it of saying, since M ilson was probably m ore able to cope w ith a revival th a n som ething new while propelling him self ab o u t on crutches. I d id n ’t see the original p ro d u c tion being, as the late lam ented N orm an would say, O .S., b u t I’m reliably inform ed by some th a t did th a t the c u rren t production is a fairly faithful facsimile. A nd why not? w hen you’re on a good thing

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

GREENROOM G ’s AND G A U C H ER IE S G otcha Gum and Goo G a u c h e rie s (of th e th ird kin d)

CLIFF GILLAM

Gotcha by B a rrie K e e fe . Greenroom Pro duction, Perth, WA. Opened April 4 1978. Directed by A n d r e w Ross; Stage Manager, L iz D o n a ld s o n ; Designer, S u e R u s s e ll. With Kid. S te v e R o w b o tto m ; Lynne, L eith T a y lo r; Tom, B e v a n Lee; Headmaster, Iv a n K in g .

Gum and Goo by H o w a rd B re n to n . Director & Stage crew as above. With Girl, L o u ise G riffin ; Boys. R ic h a rd T u llo c h and Ross C o li.

Gaucheries (of the Third Kind). New Dolphin Theatre, Perth, WA. Opened April 19. Triple Bill, with I ’m Really Here by J e a n C la u d e v a n It a llie . Directed by S te p h e n A m os with Rossano. R o g e r S e lle c k ; Doris #1, L in d a C a s s ; Doris #2, N a re lle H o u rn ; Lady at End, N a o m i H e th e rin g to n . Sandbox by E d w a rd A lb e e . Directed by L in d a M c D o n n e l with Mummy, B e v e rly H e w itt; Daddy, M a r B u c k n e ll; Granny. L in d a M c D o n n e l; Young Man, D oug R o b e rts o n ; Musician, J a m e s Bean. Kitchenette by R o n a ld T a v e l. Directed by K a rl Z w ic k y with Jo, A ils a P ip e r; Mikie, K e ith R o b in so n ; Mikey, F io n a M a c le a n ; Joe, M a rtin D z u b ie i. Wardrobe designed by M ic h a e l va n S c h o o r. For the whole production. Stage Management by G ra n t G o d fre y ; Lighting Design by R obin M a c ra e .

Two contem porary plays ab o u t e d u ca tion. T h u s the p ro g ram m e described the G reen ro o m ’s A pril double-bill. H ow ard B ren to n ’s Gum and Goo however tu rn ed out to be less a b o u t education th a n for it in two senses. W ritten for a teachers conference in E ng lan d in 1969, it is also for education of the b ro ad est kind, urging, th rough its expresssionist technique for a greater u n d erstan d in g of the world of the other. T he otherw orld in this case is th a t of a d istu rb ed child, a young girl played rem arkably well in the G reenroom p ro d u c tion by Louise G riffin, an d it is established w ith the aid of two com ic-book an d

football add icted boys who are also, variously, a m other an d fath er, a “ dirty old m a n ” a n d a policem an, an d G um and Goo, two fantasy figures of sinister vein conjured by the im agination of the g irl/freak . T he w orld of the F reak, an in n er world of em otional violence a n d m isu n d erstan d ing, an o u ter w orld of fear an d danger (unto d eath as the skeletal plot of the play eventually has it) is b u ilt up by a cunning in terlacing of fantasy sequences with views of q u asi-n atu ralism — a stru ctu ral gam bit d em an d in g b o th flexibility an d discipline on the p a rt of the two m ale actors in this three h an d er. Ross Coli a n d R ichard T ulloch rose to the challenge. All three players are p a rt of the Playhouse’s T h e a tre-In -E d u catio n program m e, of which A ndrew Ross is over-all D irector. I d o n ’t know w hether Gum and Goo has been played in the schools b u t I hope th a t is has o r will be, since it seems an excellent piece for school-age audiences, and certainly b o th m ore truly th eatrical and likely to open the m inds of kids th a n the play w ith which it was p aired, B arrie K eefe’s Gotcha. T his play was indeed about education, playw right Keefe having contrived (the m ost accu rate verb) a situ atio n which enables him to th u m p a large tu b about the h o rro rs of m ass education. Leith T aylor an d Bevan Lee play two fairly typical (an u n d erstate m en t) high school teachers, an E nglish m istress and a Physical E d u catio n m aster respectively, who are “ g o t” — tra p p e d in a school storeroom w ith a m alcontent schoolboy who th reaten s to blow all three to kingdom come by th e sim ple expedient of dropping a lighted cigarette into the fuel ta n k of a m otorcyle. (If you w ant to know w hat a motorcycle is doing in a school storeroom in the first place, I refer you b ack to the verb, post continuous tense, at the beginning of this p arag rap h ). T he school boy is u n d erstan d ab ly peeved ab o u t being passed o u t of the school as a non-entity in o rd er to en te r a w orking life of m ore of the sam e. He blam es (no prizes for guessing) the system, as in carn ated in the teachers, of whom (predictably) the E nglish m istress proves com passionate if ineffectual, and the m ale Physical E d u catio n oaf offen sively F raserian in his “ Life w asn’t m eant to be easy” incom prehension of and antagonism to the boy’s w orking-class horizons. T he H eadm aster, played by Ivan K ing, is inveigled into sharing his staff m em b ers’ u n com fortable in carcera tion, is told a few hom e tru th s an d is (predictably) shown to have for all his a d m in istra to r’s sm oothness of m an n er and second-rate psychologizing, a m ind sim ilarly closed to the real p ath o s of the alienated boy’s resort to violence. K eefe’s no Spielberg, an d after ten m inutes one realizes th a t the boy’s rep eated lunges, cigarette in h an d , to the m otorcycle ta n k are mere gestures. Noone’s going to get blown up, b u t we are in for a good thirty m inutes m ore in-depth exploration of characters a b o u t as deep as a Rizla p a p e r seen sideways on. The actors, all seasoned professionals b a r the boy, do a very good job considering the cliches they’ve been saddled w ith by the

Theatre / Queensland playw right, in sustaining the illusion th at these people are m ore th a n paw ns in K eefe’s little piece of “ how terrible it all is” socially com m itted natu ralism (I had th o u g h t the vogue for this stuff p ast b u t it seems, like the aforem entioned verb, to be also continuous). All very craftsm anlike, b u t boring th eatre. Gotcha would perhaps m ake a good script for a television play aim ed at the “ serious, socially conscious” viewer. D irector Ross h ad the whole thing well paced, and drew a particularly fine perform ance as the Boy from Steve R ow bottom , a novice professional only recently g rad u ated from W .A .I.T s T h eatre A rts course. A pril seems to have been P e rth ’s m onth for seasons of one-acters b ro u g h t to you by the letter “ G ” , since we also h ad a short season of three plays gathered together u n d er the general title of Gaucheries (of the th ird kind) presented by U .D .S. at the New D olphin T heatre. W e h ad a piece by Albee, The Sandbox, in w hich E dw ard once again shadow boxes w ith the A m erican D ream , stuffing his play with the old standbys of his vision, powerful women, plastic virility an d T he H o rror of D eath. T his featured an excellent p e r form ance in the m ain role of G ranny by the director, L inda M cD onnel. W e h a d a tedious piece of vintage V an Itallic, with Jean C laude doing a sort of A bsurd A m erican in Paris. A good exam ple this, of how the conventions of the A bsurd, like m ost th eatrical conventions, prove susceptable to the corruptions of an essen tially soap-operatic vision. T here were however, a couple of strong perform ances, particularly th a t of L inda Cass as D oris #1. So far then, pretty sta n d a rd student th eatre fare, if quite well done. So why am I reviewing Gaucheries? Because we also h ad a m uch more contem porary piece of the th eatre of the A bsurd called Kitchenette, by R onald Tavel. T his was directed by K arl Zwicky, who has m ade his m ark as an actor with a p a rtic u la r gift for zany an d off-beat roles. (He did a little gem of a Jaques last year, and was a m em orably comic Satan-asW orm -of Evil in the Festival W akefield cycle). It seems th a t he has carried over this gift into the directional realm , for Kitchenette sparkled with the joyous anarchism , outrageous h u m o u r an d down right D ada obstreporousness th a t can m ake the best kind of A bsurd th eatre a truly liberating experience. From two of the m ost experienced (one speaks here of student, hence relatively) actors in U.D.S. Ailsa P iper and K eith Robinson. Zwicky got extraordinary perform ances. They tackled a difficult text, in a mode easily devalued by pretention, and tackled it with the authority and confidence of seasoned professionals, even more rem arkable was the fact th a t two absolute novices in the other roles, Fiona M aclean and M artin D zubiel. were able to perform to the same unexpectedly high stand ard . I found this show very encouraging. W ith W .A .I.T . graduates now treading the professional boards in Perth, and seasons of the quality of U .D .S .’s Gaucheries going forw ard, the future of live theatre looks distinctly good. The yeast is w orking, and some talented young people are rising.

A thoroughly marketable product. IN PR AISE OF LOVE DON BATCHELOR

T he new m an ag em en t a t Twelfth N ight has m ade a w ell-calculated a n d business like sta rt w ith a well-m ade version of a well-m ade play. T he opening was a veritable night of knights — in m any ways, it felt as if the W est E n d th e a tre was opening a b ran ch in Bowen Hills. T here was professional polish about, an d p u rpose — down to the free roses for lady patro n s. As to the play, it is a deftly d rafted story abo u t an E sto n ian refugee (Lydia), formerly in the resistance, m arried for tw enty-eight years to a m ildly-m arxist, quaintly self-centred critic (Sebastian), form erly in B ritish intelligence. They first m et in Berlin w hence he rescued Lydia by m arrying her. Now it is discovered separately by h u sb a n d an d wife th a t she has a term in al illness, an d out of the discovery comes a sense of th eir longneglected love. To final cu rtain , however, this passion rem ains unsh ared . In the end. the play is a finely ra tio n a lise d plea for B ritish reserve, which m ight b etter ^ be nam ed “ In Praise of G ood M an n ers” . Indeed, Lydia’s appeal to h er son Joey to show a “ little dishonesty” — a polite ignoring of his fa th ers’ idiosyncrasies for the sake of fam ily harm ony — is a prototype for the elaborate subterfuge she an d h er h u sb a n d are playing over her illness. To R attig an this superficial dom estic harm ony should not be risked in search of some richer m u tu al appreciation and enjoym ent which m ight result from a

little abrasion. It is here th a t one takes issue w ith th e play, n o t th a t m an ners are w orthless, b u t th a t carried to extrem es they can as easily m ar as m ake a m an. W ith th a t in m ind, let me m ention the hybrid p ro d u ctio n set-up now op erating at Tw elfth N ight, w hereby shows are set up a n d rehearsed by an A rtistic D irector (Bill R edm ond) resident in Sydney, using largely n am e actors who are then tra n s p o rted to B risbane, where technical aspects of th e show are co-ordinated. O n this occasion, sets a n d costum es were m ade on c o n tract by a Q TC designer (Stephen Gow) in the Q TC w orkshops. T his is a policy th a t can work com m er cially an d artistically, b u t at the level of local cu ltu ra l asp iratio n is likely to be fly-by-night in its results. W hich brings us to the p roduction. Some slip-up betw een director an d designer p u t the drinks trolley way over in one corner of the set, and the show started badly w ith a series of m arath o n walks to re-charge em pty glasses. F u rth er, a conjunction of a k ind of tw i-lighting with fawn costum es against fawn carpets and fawn w all-paper m ade the opening insipid. By the second act, however everything cam e together, an d the total result was quite affecting. I always hate it when A u stralian actors ape th a t draw ing-room d ram a style w hich is a cliche of E nglish c o m m e rc ia l th e a t r e . R ic H u tto n (Sebastian) at least has the technical edge to bring it off. A nne H addy (Lydia), on the oth er h a n d , tu rn ed consom m e into pottage. Ron F razer (M ark W alters) m ade the best showing by being simple, honest, an d still. G reg P arke h ad an easy and w inning com m and of the p a rt of Joey. To defeat th a t v ib ran t blue dressing gown was an achievem ent in itself. All in all, a thoroughly m arketable p ro d u ct has been produced which should realise the expressed ideal of p u ttin g bum s on seats. THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

Monash New Plays GENERAL EDITOR: MARY LORD

Monash New Plays have been established as a continuing series to publish new plays by Australian playwrights. It is especially concerned to bring the work of new writers to the attention of the reading public and to theatrical groups who are interested in performing new works. Small casts and simplicity of sets make both plays ideal for amateur productions.

ALREADY PUBLISHED

Cass Butcher Bunting

Catherine

BILL REED Winner of the Alexander Theatre Playwriting Competition 1976

JILL SHEARER Winner of a special award for the best play by an unpublished playwright.

The play begins with an explosion and a cave-in down a mine shaft in which three miners are trapped. It explores the reactions of these three men to the disaster that has befallen them and the fate which awaits them. The play is brutal and shocking, and it is unremitting in the demands it makes of its audience. That it is far removed from the popular idea of entertainment goes without saying. Its importance as a contribution to Australian dramatic writing is quite another matter.

This is the story of Catherine Crowley, convicted of petty-theft and transported to Botany Bay with the Second Fleet in 1789, and mother of William Charles Wentworth, founder of one of Australia’s most influential families.

REC. PRICE: $3.50

Further titles in preparation.

It is not simply a historical romance, but a play within a play, and yet the ‘actors’ have much in common with the characters they play, and their reactions to each other provide a subtle parody of the relationships between the characters in the inner play. CATHERINE is a carefully plotted play and unravels like a well-told story. It works first and last as sheer theatrical entertainment: that it recreates a fascinating moment of Australia's early history is part of its charm: that it provides food for thought at a more serious level is a bonus. REC. PRICE: $3.50

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THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

PARACHUTE PRODUCTIONS, THE AUSTRALIAN ELIZABETHAN THEATRE TRUST and THE MLC THEATRE ROYAL COMPANY by arrangement with THE MELBOURNE THEATRE COMPANY presents

If you thought The Club was outrageous you must see Dusa, Fish, Stas and Vi—it will blow your mind

Dusa Fish. Stss &Vi a housewife

a revolutionary

Nancye Hayes as Dusa

Carol Burns as Fish

a call girl

a hippie

Garrett

Directed by George Ogilvie Designed by' Maree Menzell

What do they talk about together .. . if you’re a man here’s your chance to find o u t... Ordinary girls?. . . with ordinary lives?... except that Dusa’s husband has run off to Morocco with their children .. . Fish won’t accept the break up of her love a ffa ir. . . Stas is using her questionable night-time earnings to finance a uni course in marine biology ... and Vi—well Vi isjust Vi—out of nothing into everything including Stas’ savings. But they all live together in a flat. Imagine the results.

YOU NEED OPERA AUSTRALIA A l l THF

segments of this play explicit references that could offend

NATIONAL NEWS INTERVIEWS WITH VISITING PERSONALITIES, BACKGROUND MATERIAL ON BOTH NATIONAL AND REGIONAL COMPANY PRODUCTIONS.

‘Women on their own in a slice of life. N E D . 31 ST MAY TO SAT. 24TH JUNE

A Reserve B Reserve Tuesdays to Fridays 8.15pm. General Public $ 7 90 $600 Saturdays 5.00pm. & 8.15pm. A.E.T.T. Members $6.50 Sundays 3.30pm. Parties (20 or more) $5.90 NO MONDAY PERFORMANCES. Students/.Pensioners $4.00 Generous party concessions phone Sally Deacon on 231 6111. Phone bookings 231 6111. MAIL BOOKINGS NOW O PEN:-Send self-addressed stamped envelope stating 1st and 2nd preferences to: Dusa, Fish, Stas & Vi, Theatre Royal, G.P.O. Box 4031, Sydney, N.S.W. 2001

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j THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE I978

{Continued from page 4)

Sirs, I realise we are but a small island state some where under the Main Land, but is it in the best of interests of all concerned to completely ignore us a ll...! There is the reawakening of theatre in Tasmania as well as film and local television productions and I do humbly request that a correspondent be found to inform you greater Australians of local interesting happenings. And just as a wee point of interest, why is Tassie not represented in the National Theatre Awards? I would also like to take this chance to introduce ourselves; we are a new theatre group (three months and one production old), our first production being W h a t T he B u tle r S a w . The locals loved it (for all the wrong reasons) and our next work of love will be S tra ig h t U p housed in a local pub whose owner is building us a theatre. (See, someone down here loves the arts.) We open on June 6 at the Butter Factory, Launceston. But seriously, I would love to see your magazine continue in its present form, with the exception of no exceptions. Yours faithfully, S co tt K in gsford, Administrator, Playpen Theatre, Launceston, Tas.

P.O. Box 164b, (AATT Training), G.P.O. Melbourne., Victoria. 3001. Tel: 91-3145 Dear Sir, May I offer to you as a news item worthy of your attention some detail about the Training

Courses being organised currently by my Association? You will be aware that the A ATT came into being nearly four years ago, and, in Victoria at least, has been able to flourish and pursue its initial aims. One of these was based on the regret that many of the best of our technicians either pass on or pass out of the business, and their abilities and skills are rarely communicated to others. For two years we have now run successful train in g courses aimed at the young professionals, the would-be professionals and the dedicated amateurs. Currently we are starting a new venture in a series of weekend courses on a varied range of topics. The first on Make Up, Wigs and Hair Styling for the Stage, has attracted a full quota of entrants. There are a limited number of vacancies for some succeeding courses, and application for these should be made to the above address as soon as possible. Training and practical instruction, plus a good deal of actual involvement, is undertaken by experts in each field, many of whom have spent most of their lives in the commercial theatre. Venues for the courses are almost all theatrical, either on stages, in studios or workshops. For Set Construction, for instance, we go to the Victorian State Opera Company’s workshops and the headquarters of the Melbourne Theatre Company. There is no intention of money-making in the courses; the Association is constituted as a non-profit making organisation. Enclosed are a couple of the introductory brochures for the current training courses, and I trust you will find the programme worthy of mention. The Victorian body is always ready to welcome new members to the Association, and information can be obtained by writing to the Secretary at the above postal box. General

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meetings this year have attracted a large following: we have been to the top of Melbourne’s highest building project, Collins Place, seen much of its vast electrical equipment and its two theatres; we have been introduced to the laser and its application to stage technology; in May we take a look at new equipment in what must be Australia’s largest conventional theatre, the Palais; indeed the programme for the year promises to be full of interest both to the initiated and to the newcomers. Perhaps the best aspect of the Association is that it brings people in the business together to talk over old and new times, and gives them a chance to meet the newcomers, both professional and amateur, and maybe help them along the road by advice, instruction or merely camaraderie. In thanking you for the anticipated use of some of the above, may I say how much each issue of your spendid magazine is enjoyed? Yours sincerely, Ron Whitehead, AATT Executive Member & Training Convenor, 171 William Street, Melbourne. 3000.

Dear Sir, I don’t want to appear unduly sensitive about the comments in the April issue of T h e a tre A u s tra lia concerning my action in returning the National Critics’ Award. (Although I think if you were aware of the lengths to which I went to avoid discrediting the awards, you would absolve me of any pettiness in the affair. It was the critics themselves who insisted on publicising what was supposed to be an absolutely private gesture.) However, I would appreciate a correction of my supposed comments in your “ Quotes and Queries’ page. I did not disagree with the rights of critics to a definite opinion. I disagreed with the rights of critics to a definitive opinion. I trust you will agree that there is a world of difference between the two statements. Yours faithfully, Ray Lawler, Melbourne, Victoria.

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THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

DONT

PIDDLE AGAINST TH E W IN D MATE

act 2

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

ACT 2

f r o n td o o r ) T h a t will be Phillip.

SCENE 1

Yeah, the news.

S h e e x its a n d re tu rn s w ith P hillip.

T he T V screen is se en to c o m e on. F ran ks tu rn s

P h illip : Good evening Mrs Davies.

d o w n volu m e.

T h e lm a : Hello Phillip.

F ra n k : Should be on in a minute.

N o rre e n : I'll just get my bag.

T h e im a : What is it?

S h e e x ists th ro u g h lo u n g e door.

F ran k h a m s o u t th e m o m e n t

P h illip : That smells nice — what is it?

F r a n k : We’ve a T V star in the family. Bob’s made the big time, he’s big news, some blokes from Melbourne flew down to interview him today. Wanted to get some pictures of Bob walkin' onto the job and his gang walkin’ off. But Pitcher wouldn't be in on that. So, they got a shot of Bob with a ship in the background. I’m gettin' proud of him, I am, can you imagine Bob on TV!

T h e lm a : Irish stew — you must come for tea Six w e e k s later. E v en in g . S a m e S et.

T h e lm a

D a v ie s is c u ttin g o n io n s in th e k itch en . N o r re e n e n te rs lo u n g e ro o m in sla c k s a n d sw e a te r.

N o rre e n : Nothing for me mum, I'm going to Phillip’s sister’s place for dinner. T h e lm a : You’re out so much lately. I’m starting to think you’re already married. N o rr e e n : Have you seen my hair brush. T h e lm a : Have a look on the couch. (N o rreen g o e s to co u ch a n d f in d s h a ir brush. S h e b eg in s bru sh in g h air) You’re not married already, are

again soon. P h illip : Yes. T h e lm a : Tell me what do you make of this thing with my husband? P h illip : Do you really want to know. T h e lm a : (A little cu rt) I just asked didn't I? P h illip : Well it's a little childish — I'm sorry I mean ... T h e lm a : I know, and 1 agree totally, totally. P ause

N o rre e n : Ah cut it out will you mum!

P h illip : Look, I’m dreadfully sorry, but all this is Union business, I shouldn’t even be making a comment on it. This thing could have an effect on the turnover of ships in this port, that's what worries me!

T h e lm a : As long as that’s what you say to

T h e lm a : Yes of course — I shouldn't have

you? N o rr e e n : What? T h e lm a : You know what I mean!

Phillip.

asked you. I’m sorry. (T h ere is th e f a m ilia r

N o rre e n : Mum for goodness sake!

k n o c k o f F ra n k s a t th e ba ck d o o r) Come in.

T h e lm a : Well you wouldn’t want Phillip to

lose respect for you — men do you know. N o rre e n : Men do you know what? T h elm a en te rs lounge.

N o rre e n re-en ters w ith bag. F ran k en te rs f r o m back d o o r w ith a b o ttle o f im p o r te d b ra n d y u n d er his a rm , h e ta k e s th e sc e n e in.

F ra n k : G oin'out love?

T h e lm a : Lose respect.

N o rre e n : Yes — not a moment too soon it

N o rre e n : Have you and dad been fighting?

seems.

T h e lm a : No.

F ra n k : (L o o k s a t P h illip) How’re you goin’?

N o rr e e n : Then are you in the throes of a cold

P h illip : Good — thanks.

war?

F ra n k : (T o P h illip) You know I'm startin' to

T h e lm a : He still hasn't paid that social money.

like you.

N o rr e e n : Give him time.

P h illip : That’s nice of you.

T h e lm a : He's had six weeks.

F ra n k : I know it is — hey Thelma, got a bottle

N o rre e n : They can't expel him you know —

of brandy, a souvenir, compliments, so to speak.

Phillip told me, they've tried. T h e lm a : So what does that prove! N o rre e n : That he knows what he’s about. T h e lm a : Norreen, I've had to put up with anonymous phone calls and letters and. this morning two of my oldest friends didn't talk to me in the supermarket, oh, except Gladys Thompson, who said there was no steak on their table this week because her Eric had to walk off the job rather than work with your father. N o rre e n : If they want to go hungry that's their business, they can work with dad if they want.

the

Captain’s

T h e lm a : You change with the wind you do! F r a n k : Hang on Thelma, twelve thousand men in the most powerful Union in Australia and he’s got ’em beat, that is really somethin’ that is. N o rre e n : Don't let your Union hear you say that. F r a n k : (lau gh in g n e rv o u s ly ) No worries, it’s a storm in a teacup, it’ll all be over soon. But what I was goin' to say, this TV bit is goin' to do Bob good, build him up, get people on his side. I’ll tell you somethin' there's more than a few of the blokes startin’ to feel sorry for Bob. reckon Normie’s been too heavy on him. Yeah, he might win yet. T h e lm a : Win! It’s not a game of cricket! F ra n k : No it's not a game of cricket, that’s for sure, but I’ll tell yer it's a bloody good game of bluff poker — sorry love — hey there it is. H e g o e s to T V a n d tu rn s i o lu m e up In t. v o ic e : . . . and for six weeks now in what could be called a stale mate. Mr. Davies goes to the wharf when his number is-called. Wouldn't it be sensible to pay this two dollar levy? Bob: Be just as sensible to make the levy voluntary.

H e p la c e s th e b ra n d y on th e table.

In t. v o ic e : But aren’t you goin' too far?

Don’t you get tired of having yourself around.

Bob: A in’t they!

N o rre e n :

F ra n k : No love, the competition's good for me

In t. v o ic e : Is it true this matter is in the Federal Secretary's hands now? Bob: Maybe — I wouldn't know that. In t. v o ic e : Why won't you pay?

— ah come on, I’m sorry, that ah, little thing with Phillip and me was over ages ago, Phillip and me are good mates now aren't we? (H e

B ob en te rs a t th is p o in t, is se en b y oth ers,

sh a p es u p in a b o x in g p o s e to P hillip. P h illip

h o w e v e r th e y a re to o in te n t w a tc h in g th e T V to

d o esn 't

a c k n o w le d g e his a ppearan ce.

a n sw er,

su d d e n ly

m o re

agg re ssiv e)

Aren’t we?

Bob: It's booze money anyway.

P h illip : ( N o t en th u sia stic ) Sure.

In t. v o ic e : The levy?

T h e lm a : But they don't want to, none of them.

F ra n k : What did I tell you.

Bob: Yeah.

N o rre e n : Then they can’t complain about not

N o rre e n : Well we’ve got to go!

In t. v o ic e : But is it worth being sent to

N o rreen a n d P h illip begin to go.

Coventry for?

F ra n k : Hold your horses — wait till you hear

Bob: I want my say, that’s all I want.

getting paid. T h e lm a : Frank told me what is really making them mad is your father getting paid and the rest

what I've got to tell you.

In t. v o ic e : But is it worth it?

of the gang not gettin' anything.

T h e lm a : Bob's paid that money?

Bob: — And for that they treat me like a taboo

N o rre e n : Well they should come to their senses then. T h e lm a : You mean your father should! You could do somethin’, you could see Normie

F ra n k : No, no he ain't, say where is he? He wasn’t in the glass house. T h e lm a : He went fishin’, said he had some thinkin’ to do, would you believe.

breaker.

Pitcher, well he used to be keen on you. N o rre e n : Years ago. T h e lm a : Well I’m sure if you spoke to him it could help.

N o rre e n : We haven't got all night, what’s the

In t. v o ic e : I see, well thank you Mr. Davies. This is Sam Whittaker reporting from . . .

F ra n k : That’s it, turn on the news and you’ll

R in so

know.

sw itc h e s o f f T V .

N o rre e n : I'm not interferring mum — besides

T h e im a : The news?!

F r a n k : (to B ob) You're really on your own now

it's up to dad not me. (T h e re is a k n o c k o n th e

F ra n k : Yer (H e g o e s to T V a n d sw itc h e s it on )

mate — booze-up money! — you’ve really

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

news?

In t. v o ic e : So you're not backing down on

this? Bob: Bloody oath I'm not.

a d v e r tis e m e n t

so m e th in g ,

F ran k

declared war you have. Jesus Christ! T h e lm a : Don't blaspheme. F ra n k : You have messed things up Bob you

k itch en .

Bob: Well I'm going to have a beer, (he g o e s to

me like that, who do you think you are. I've had you. it's the end. the absolute end. Bob: It's been the end for more than twenty

have.

k itch en ) Sure?

years.

Bob: That's your opinion. F ra n k : (g e ttin g a n g ry ) I'm not kiddin’ mate I'm

T h e lm a : I’m sure — all you do lately is drink.

P ause

(Bob re tu rn s w ith a can o f b e e r a n d drin k s f r o m

T h e lm a : (C o ld ly ) Move all your things out of

not!

it) Did you hear what I said?

my room.

N o rre e n : Do you have to get so excited!

Bob: Yes I heard, (pause)

Bob: (L o o k in g a p p re h e n siv e ) Things out of our

F ra n k : No — gee Bob you could have been a

T h e lm a : You’re making a complete idiot of

bit more diplomatic like, you could have, you were startin' to get some blokes on your side,

yourse . . . .

you were.

H e s ita te s to p ic k it up. f in a lly h e d o e s so.

room? 1,1. . . T h e lm a : Yes, 1, that's the only person you think of..what do you think you've got that makes you so special from everybody else? Go

P h illip : We had better be going Norreen.

Bob: (slig h tly ag g re ssiv e) Hello — oh Geoff — 1

Susan's expecting us.

thought — never mind what 1 thought, how are you? . . . well I understand, but don't leave it too long (pause) Geoff it just happened (pause) Well if you saw the TV tonight you should understand (pause) I'm not trying to make a fool of anyone (pause) Look how about coming down next Sunday then? Alright give me a ring when you can. Do you want to speak to your mother.

N o rre e n

lo o k s

a w k w a r d ly

P h illip f o r

m o m e n t re lu c ta n t to le a v e u n til sh e is f u lly a w a re o f w h a t is g o in g on. (F irm ly). We've got to go.

N o rre e n : OK (sh e g o e s to h er f a th e r a n d g iv e s h im a kiss o n th e c h eek ) You were great Gary

Cooper. Bye. T h e lm a : Don't be too late home. F ra n k : See you love — ah Norreen. P h illip : Sorry we’re running late — goodbye. Bob: Goodbye Phillip.

T h e lm a : (C o ld ly ) No thank you. sh e re tu rn s to

T he p h o n e

rings.

B ob g o e s

th e p h o n e.

Alright I’ll tell her. goodbye son. H e h an gs u p T helm a en te rs w ith tw o m eals a n d p la ces th e m o n th e table.

T h e lm a : Another of those calls?

T here is a silence. T h elm a is lo o k in g c o ld ly a t

Bob: No it was Geoff, he said he would ring

Bob. F ran k f e e ls u n co m fo rta b le.

you later in the week.

F ra n k : Ah — ah.

B o b jo in s T h elm a a t th e table. T h e y b o th u se th e

Bob: What? F ra n k : Ah nothin' — nothin’ — ah nothin'.

p e p p e r a n d sa lt in silen ce, f in a lly T helm a speaks.

T h e lm a : You go down and pay tomorrow

Bob: Is that all? F ra n k : Yeah, I mean no. (pause) You have

Bob: No Thelma I'm going to see this out to the

buggered it you know. Bob: Maybe. T helm a

goes

th e

understand. (B ob sh akes his h e a d in a n e g a tiv e fa s h io n ) Bob you pay.

very end. k itch en .

T here

T h e lm a : And that's tomorrow Bob, tomorrow?

a w k w a r d silen ce b e tw e e n th e tw o m en.

(Bob sh a k es his h e a d again )

F ra n k : 1 had to do that today, you know that

Bob: Look ah. I'm sorry about all this — really.

don't yer? Bob: Forget it. F ra n k : Well as long as you understand. T h e lm a : Stay and have some tea Frank? F ra n k : Not tonight love. T h e lm a : I've got an extra serve now. F ra n k : (lo o k s ca re fu lly a t B o b ) No, another night love. (T o B ob) Well as long as you do. Bob: I said I do.

T h e lm a : Oh you've never known moderation

in your life! Bob: (L o o k in g a t his w ife w ith a su d d en c o ld re se n tm e n t) And you’ve never known life in

your moderation. T h e lm a : You really think you're clever lately,

.on then, tell me! Bob: Nothin', nothin' more than anyone else, except I'm me, as you are you, and everybody is somebody nothin' more than that. Don't you think 1 would change things if 1could, don't you think we all would, but we can't can we? And 1 can't either. I’m walking down a dark tunnel w'ith no light at the end. but vvdrse there isn't any light behind me either, so yer see 1 gotta keep goin’, otherwise I'll just sit down and die in the darkness, do you understand? T h e lm a : You're thinking only of yourself that’s what 1understand. Bob: Perhaps 1 am, but I'm stuck with this Journey now' and there's no turning back. And I’m scared stiff. I'd do anything to turn the clock back but I'm committed. How do you think I feel walking into the amenities block, more than a hundred hostile sets of eyes on me. how do you think 1feel, people, mates. I've known all my life refusing to work with me. (pause) Do you think it has been easy for me, do you really believe that? (he sta res a t h er h o p in g f o r a reply, a n y reply. T helm a re m ain s sta rin g a t th e flo o r)

I’ll tell you something, I went to. pay my levy after you asked me to. 1 walked up to Normie Pitcher, in front of several blokes. 1 said to myself, alright pay up and shutup Bob, what does it matter, but when 1 saw Pitcher's eyes I couldn't, I just couldn't pay. I'm sorry, I really am. (pause) 1 wish 1 could have. I really do. things would be better now. 1 know. Instead. I turned around and walked away, (in a w h isper) Do you understand why?

don't you. (pause) Why can't you be reasonable like everyone else, like Frank for example. Bob: Like Frank! (he sta n d s u p a n d m o v e s to w a rd s T helm a) Like Frank! Why do 1 have to be like Frank. I'm Bob and he's Frank. T h e lm a : Don’t I know it. Bob: What's that supposed to mean? T h e lm a : Nothin'. Bob: Yes it does, yer reckon he's alright don’t

fr o m th e sofa.

T h e lm a : Bob!

T h e lm a : 1 understand that women I’ve known all my life don't bother even to speak to me. I understand that, and I understand you're causing trouble between Phillip and Norreen. the way you are gotn' on. yer! Bob: I didn't know that! T h e lm a : Yes, he’s alright, but not like you T h e lm a : There's a lot of things you don't would like to think. What’s got into you * know, how- do you think this whole business has anyway, you've become suspicious of everyone been for me? Oh, it's alright for you men to play lately. your little games of goodies and baddies but Bob: I've had to. I'm on my own now and I when it affects us, your family, do you have the intend to survive.

Bob: (softly, to F rank) Forget it.

H e is sta n d in g righ t a b o v e h er n ow .

F ra n k : OK Look I'll see you later, alright?

T h elm a en te rs w ith p e p p e r a n d sa lt etc.

F ra n k : Good, I thought you would, it had to

happen sometime. Bob: Will you leave it! F ra n k : I had to say somethin' to yer. (looks at T helm a) Bob was supposed to be in our gang today, 1,1 had to walk off with the other blokes, you understand, — it had to happen sooner or later, it did. Bob: Will you bloody leave it! F ra n k : I’m just tryin’ to explain. Bob: Forget it for Christ sake!

There is a p a u se a n d T helm a sta res u p at him

T h e lm a : On your own! What about me!

right to make us have to play your games too; 1 say you haven't got that right, you haven't got

T h e lm a : Sure you won’t stay?

Bob: Shutup!

that right at all.

F ra n k : Another night.

T h e lm a : What?

There is a silen ce as b o th h u sb a n d a n d w ife sta re

(H e w alk s to th e ba ck d o o r a w k w a rd ly , b u t is

Bob: Shutup, for once in your life, shutup and

a t each oth er. B ob tu rn s a w a y .

a lso a little p u t o u t) Well goodnight.

listen, (she is stu n n e d in to silen ce) Now I've got something I want to say . . . T h e lm a : (re co verin g ) How dare you speak to

and Phillip? T h e lm a : Not much yet. but it will very soon if

H e ex its

Bob: Like a sherry love.

Bob: What's this you're savin' about Norreen

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

you ask me. unless you pay that money. Phillip is even embarrassed at work because of you. Bob: I didn't know that — I'll think about it. Let me think about it. Not everybody is against me you know. I ’ve still got some friends left, I have. I have people in the street pullin' up and sayin" to me to 'stick to your guns'. No I'm not beat yet and. the paper, did you see what the editorial in the paper said? A stand for the individual, it said, an inquisition, that's what they reckon's goin'on as far as I'm concerned. L o oks a t N e w G u in ea H ead.

Ruled by anonymous tribal witch doctors, that's what they said. Give me time and I think I'll see the light at the end of the tunnel. I think I will. Give me time Thelma. T h e lm a : (She w a lk s to rig h t o f sta g e ) Rinse

your disher and don't make a mess everywhere with that pipe tobacco of yours Goodnight. E xits. B ob w alks s lo w ly to his a rm c h a ir a n d sits d o w n . H is h an ds ta k e h o ld o f b o th a rm s o f th e ch a ir a n d h e g rip s as i f his v e r y life d ep e n d s o n it.

T h e lm a : (offstage, a fte r a tim e). Don't forget to

put the milk bottles out. S lo w ly th e lig h ts b egin to J ade. B o b D a v ie s c o n tin u e s to g rip te n se ly th e a rm s o f th e chair. Then th e re is d a rk n ess a n d th e o n ly lig h t th a t re m a in s is on th e P apua N e w G u in e a H e a d c a rv in g th a t lo o k s d o w n fro m th e wall.

SCENE 2 T he sc e n e is as usual. T he ta b le is c o v e r e d w ith a ta b le c lo th on w h ich sits ca k es a n d biscuits, su g a r a n d m ilk. N o r m ie P itc h e r is s ittin g in B ob D a v ie s ' a rm chair. H e is u n d e r th ir ty y e a r s o f a g e w ea rin g a h o m e k n itte d s w e a te r w ith o p en n eck sh irt. T helm a D a v ie s is in th e k itc h e n f r o m w h ere sh e en te rs lo u n g e w ith tw o cu p s o f tea as th e d ia lo g u e begins. F ro m th e w in d o w a d im tw ilig h t c o m e s th ro u g h , th is s lo w ly f a d e s , u n til at

th e p o in t

w h ere

F ra n k

en ters,

th e re

c o m p le te darkn ess. T h elm a e n te rs th e lo u n g e room .

T h e lm a : Do you take milk Normie? P itc h e r: White and two thanks. T h e lm a : Some cake? P itc h e r : No thanks. T h e lm a : I pride myself with my cakes. P itc h e r: I'm sure they're nice, but no thanks. T h e lm a : How long have you been married

now? P itc h e r : Three — no four, four years. T h e lm a : I saw your mother sometime back,

she said you've got a boy. P itc h e r : Two boys now, be no time before they’ll be playin’ for the magpies. T h e lm a : You should have a girl? P itc h e r : Yeah, I might have one of them yet — look, ah, Mrs. Davies I'm not one for heatin' around the bush, I must admit I was surprised when Frank came and seen me yesterday sayin’ you wanted to see me. T h e lm a : Well, this awful business keeps goin' 36

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

on like Blue Hills, doesn’t it? P itc h e r : Yeah, yeah it does, but even that had an end. This has been going on for too long, believe me I'm for it —- if it can be ended in an orderly fashion. T h e lm a : That's what I think, that it should be sorted out in an orderly fashion. P itc h e r: Well we agree, common ground is a very important thing when it comes to negotiating believe me. if you can't agree at all. well it just ain't worth try in' — that's w hat I've found. T h e lm a : I suppose you get quite a bit of

practice, at negotiatin'. P itc h e r: Yeah, yeah I do, but to be honest it

ain't usually this sort of thing, it's usually with the big knobs, not fellow workers, this thing’s got me quite puzzled it has. T h e lm a : I feel the same way. P itc h e r : I suppose it’s hard for a woman like yourself to understand my predicament — the Union first, got to be. My individual feelin's don't come into it, they mustn't otherwise I wouldn’t be doin' my job. Why, to be honest I've got a lot of time for Bob, been a good Union man in his time and it saddens me to see him takin' a view like this, after workin’ on the wharf for thirty years and bein’ such a strong member. T h e lm a : He hasn't been himself you know. P itc h e r: (N o d s a g re e m e n t) I'm sure — but. you can see my situation can't you? I couldn't let him get away with it, if I did well goodness knows what would happen next — members might decide not to pay their Union dues, we just couldn't have that situation, could we? T h e lm a : No, I understand. P itc h e r : (ea rn estly) I really hope you do, you see like everyone I’ve got to do my job as I see it. and that’s all you can doesn’t it? T h e lm a : Yes. P itc h e r : And, in your case I think I've been able to come up with a solution suitable to both parties, at least I hope so. this is where you might be of some help. T h e lm a : Well if I can be. P itc h e r : Much could rest with you, in speakin’ to Bob, explainin' to him we are willin' to forget the w'hole matter. Sometimes it’s better if ver got a third party to negotiate things in situations like this, things can go smoother. My idea is Bob

forgets the whole thing and we do the same, of course we will have to have something to that effect in writing you know, just to make the thing proper like. It doesn’t worry me but Sydney have requested it, it will make them feel easier. I have the Federal Organiser from Sydney in town tomorrow' and I can bring him around here, or whatever Bob wants, as long as he can have something in writing. T h e lm a : Frank said he was going to be here.

P itc h e r: You'll speak to Bob about it? T h e lm a : Well. I'll certainly try, but, to be

perfectly honest, I seem to have lost any influence I might have had over him. He’s become so, so hard to get through to, so suspicious of everybody. I don't mind tellin’ you I'm at my wits ends, tryin’ to keep my sanity. Do you know we have been receivin’ threatenin' phone calls, they have been horrible, absolutely horrible! P itc h e r : 1 am very sorry about that, believe me. I wouldn't have anything to do with something like that. If I knew who it was I’d pull him into gear quick and smart. The trouble is people get carried away in a situation like this, and, to be honest I don't know if I can hold the reins on some of the boys for much longer. I've got no control over them, nobody has. Please don't take that as a threat — I don’t want to scare you, but the situation is getting out of my control. T h e lm a : I see. P itc h e r: I’m glad you do — Nugget — Mr. Jessie — should be in town by ten a.m.. so we can be around anytime from then on, can get the whole matter closed and finished with in half an hour. T h e lm a : I'll do my best an. I do appreciate

your help. I do. P itc h e r : That's quite alright. Maybe it would have been better if we'd had this meeting long ago. T he f r o n t d o o r is h e a rd to open.

T h e lm a : That will h; Norreen, she gets home

early sometimes. P itc h e r : Norreen! N o rre e n en ters, c a r e fu lly ta k in g in th e sc e n e as sh e does.

N o rre e n : What do you want? T h e lm a : Don't be like that. Normie is here to

help. N o rre e n : Help who? P itc h e r : I've just called on yer mother to see if we can finish this thing with your old man. N o rre e n : How? P itc h e r : In the most civilized fashion we can

of course. N o rre e n : Then no doubt you brought your

club. T h e lm a : Don't be like that. Normie is here to

help. P itc h e r : Norreen. I'm as sick and tired of this business as you must be. N o rre e n : You don’t look very sick and tired to

me. P itc h e r: You're taking the wrong view on this matter, you really are. N o rre e n : From your point of view no doubt I

am. P itc h e r: I ’m trying to look at this thing as fairly as possible, otherwise I wouldn't be here.

What in writing? P itc h e r: Nothin' more than I said — that he's willin' to forget the matter and, (he lau gh s) he pays his social levy fee of course — it’s just they want some insurance he won't change his mind, you understand?

S ta rin g a t P itc h e r w h o c o n tin u e s to h a v e his

T h e lm a : I think so, I wish Frank was here.

a fte rn o o n tea.

N o rre e n : (p u ttin g d o w n a h a n d fu l o f fo ld e r s )

Perhaps. T h e lm a : You're not being fair to Normie. N o rre e n : Aren't I.

T h e lm a : No.

hasn’t it?

B ob exits.

N o rreen c o n tin u e s to lo o k c o ld ly a t P itch er.

T h e lm a : (step p in g a w a y f r o m h e r d a u g h te r)

c a refu l w h a t h e says. B ob returns.

P itc h e r: Norreen, can't you see this isn't

Yes, (she w ip es h e r e y e s w ith a h an dk erch ief)

N o rre e n : I must get changed, I'm having

personal.

Like a cuppa? N o rre e n : Alright, if there is one going. I had a terrible day today — (T h elm a g o e s to th e k itch en ) had to go to Kooningal — the facilities there are primitive, there w'as a draft blowing

dinner at Susan’s.

N o rre e n : Perhaps if it was. an agreement might have been reached by now. P itc h e r: What do you mean? N o rre e n : Someone once said to me you can do anything to anybody as long as you don’t have to look them in the eye. I think I understand

what he meant now. P itc h e r: Norreen don't make it any harder than it is for me. N o rre e n : For you?! P itc h e r : Yes, for me Norreen. (T h ere is an a w k w a r d silen ce ) Well I must be off Mrs. Davies. Norreen.

under the gym door all day and the roof was leaking, at one stage we had three buckets and a dish catching water at once. T h e lm a : It hasn’t been rainin' heavy here. N o rre e n : That’s a change. T h e lm a : The forecast is for a clear day tomorrow.

T helm a in d ica tes to F rank to be

S h e exits.

F ra n k : Well how you been? Bob: I'm survivin’ if that’s what you mean.

Haven't seen much of you lately. F ra n k : That ain’t true — I’ve had a busy couple of weeks. Bob: Yer. F ra n k : It's true — don't yer believe anyone these days? T h e lm a : 1want to have a talk to you. now is as good a time as any. (T h elm a h e sita tes) Bob: Goon.

T h e lm a : (o ffs ta g e ) It was a pleasure seein' yer.

N o rre e n : Is it, that'll be good, 1 might be able to get the kids out in the open for a while. T h e lm a : Kooningal again tomorrow? N o rre e n : No thank goodness, it’s too far. T h e lm a : Didn’t you say you make a little on your travelling expenses? (She en te rs lou n ge

P itc h e r: (o ffsta g e) And likewise Mrs. Davies

w ith a c u p o f tea f o r h er d a u g h te r a n d o n e f o r

— thanks for the afternoon tea. And don't worry it will all be over by tomorrow. T h e lm a : We hope.

h e r s e lf He wants your father to sign a paper.

Bob: Well w hat is it Thelma? T h e lm a : I've been doin' a lot of thinkin' and I

N o rre e n : Normie Pitcher?

don’t believe this, this thing can go on for much

T h e lm a : Yes.

N o rreen D a v ie s sta n d s, a rm s f o ld e d , leys a p a rt

N o rre e n : Sayin' what?

longer. Bob: So?

w a ilin g f o r th e re tu rn o f h er m o th e r, fin a lly .

T h e lm a : That the matter is over and done

T h e lm a : So you've got to see Normie Pitcher

N o rre e n : And what, may I ask. was all that

with, forgotten. And that he’ll pay his fee money, you know, the levy. N o rre e n : Well I suppose there had to be

and f ix ...

something. Is that all? T h e lm a : Yeah that’s all. N o rre e n : Dad’s got them over a barrell you

to h er m o th e r a n d tu rn s h er ba ck o n her.

N o rreen

d o esn 't

a n sw er.

She

con fused.

T helm a D a v ie s sta n d s a n d beg in s to esc o rt h im ou t.

about? T h e lm a : Mr. Pitcher called that's all. he w'ants

to help. N o rre e n : Called, out of the blue, just like that? Just like Father Brady did the other night’ T h e lm a : Yes. that's right (pause) No. 1 did invite Normie, why shouldn't 1. N o rre e n : What did he have to say? T h e lm a : Just that he was willin’ to forget the w'hole matter if your father is. N o rre e n : Did he now. just like that! T h e lm a : Yes. — well isn't that somethin', it couldn't go on the way it has forever, could it? N o rre e n : No. I suppose not, tsh e sits d o w n in an e x h a u ste d m a n n er) I'm sorry, this business is

getting us all down. T h e lm a : Except your father, he throes on it, his life's taken on a new purpose. N o rre e n : That's not true. Fle's had to keep going, there's been no choice for him. T h e lm a : What about us. he! Do we have a

S h e lo o k s a t F ran k f o r su p p o rt.

F ra n k : Look, maybe it’s better if I leave. T h e lm a : You stay here. F ra n k : Well let me get a beer. H e ex its to kitch en .

N o rreen en ters.

N o rre e n : Mum zip me up will you. (She w alks T helm a zip s h er dre ss u p) Thanks, have

know.

interupted something? Bob: 1don't think so.

T h e lm a : And. what does that prove?

F ran k re tu rn s w ith can o f beer.

N o rre e n : Nothing except they want to finish

T h e lm a : I was just telling your father he must

the matter now more than he does. You’ve been reading the papers — the man in the street's opinion is running two to one in favour of Dad’s stand. I’m sure the Union wouldn't like that. T h e lm a : This matter has gone on for too long. N o rre e n : Yes, you're right. T h e lm a : You won’t tell your father Normie

pay his levy. Bob: What do you think Norreen? N o rre e n : Well of course it’s your decision, but it has all got out of hand. Bob: And?

was here, will you? N o rre e n : No. T h e lm a : He wouldn’t like it. N o rre e n : No 1 don’t imagine he would — w hat are you going to tell him? T h e lm a : I don't know yet.

go, really!

A ca r h orn to o ts.

N o rre e n : No ands. — that's Phillip — I must S h e ex its left o f stage.

F ra n k : Don’t he bother to come in these days. T h e lm a : I think he is runnin’ late. Bob: Where’s she goin’. T h e lm a : To Phillip's sisters’ place.

choice?

T here is th e fa m ilia r k n o c k o f F ran k 's o n th e

N o rre e n : (o ffstage) What did you say?

N o rre e n : We’ve got to expect to share some of

b a ck d o o r w h ich h e o p en s w ith o u t w a itin g f o r

P h illip en ters w ith N o rreen )

the load with him. T h e lm a : You. maybe, but not me. what do I

an an sw er.

P h illip : Well it’s probably nothing, but the way

F ra n k : How we goin' — sorry I’m late, Normie

owe your father, tell me! N o rre e n : I didn't realize things had become

gone? T h e lm a : l though you were goin' to be here

that bad between you. T h e lm a : Well it's about time you looked

when he was? F ra n k : Sorry love — got held up. Well, you’re

(hey run out of your back drive. I thought I should tell you. T h e lm a : Who ran out of our back drive? P h illip : Three men. they took off in an FJ

around.

both sittin’ there like you've been caught with

P h illip : Yes, I'm sure.

N o rre e n : Mum!

been up to?

take much more of this. 1really don’t.

your false teeth on your laps. T h e lm a : You were goin' to be here. F ra n k : l just got off my shift — Bob here?

N o rre e n : (em b ra cin g h er m o th e r a w k w a rd ly )

B ob en te rs w ith f is h in g b a g o v e r sh ou lder.

Come on, it's not all that bad. T h e lm a : I got one of those threatening phone calls again — the language was filthy and. and he threatened to blow our house up. N o rre e n : This has really been hard on you

Bob: He's here.

T h e lm a : (she begin s to cry) I don't think I can

T h e lm a : Are you sure? F ra n k : What do you think they could have T h e lm a : We've had threatening phone calls

T h e lm a : Would you mind putting that fishing

lately, they even said they’d plant a bomb. F ra n k : Did you report that to the police. T h e lm a : Bob wouldn’t let me. F ra n k : You should have Bob. Bob: No-one would do anything, there was not

gear outside.

much use in making a fuss.

F ra n k : (taken a b a c k ) How are you mate? Bob: Alright.

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

P h illip : Well perhaps someone should phone the police now. F ra n k : Let's have a look around first. T h e lm a : It's those phone calls coming to something. I know it! N o rr e e n : Come on mum. F ra n k : Let's not jump to conclusions. P h illip : Got a torch?

F ra n k : You don't mean that love. 1 know yer

T h e lm a : Please.

don't!

N o rre e n : I don’t understand.

T h e lm a : But yes I do, I do. I do, I do (she cla sp s h er h a n d s o v e r h e r f a c e ) I do.

P h illip : Come on. you can get your things tomorrow'.

N o rre e n : (c o m fo rtin g h er m o th e r) I don't

N o rre e n : Let me see him, let me talk to dad.

H e e x its o u t b a ck d o o r f o llo w e d b y B ob th en

think I’d better go out tonight Phillip. T h e lm a : It's alright now. I'll be alright — I've invited Frank for tea. I’d prefer you to go out tonight — it’s alright I have my reasons. N o rre e n : Sure? T h e lm a : I'm positive.

P hillip. N o rre e n beg in s to fo llo w .

S h e g e ts to h er f e e t w ith d ig n ity.

B ob: The glass house lights are pretty good. F ra n k : Well let’s have a look.

P h illip : I'll wait in the car for you. (H e w a lk s to b a ck door, tu rn s b a c k a n d a d d re sses T h elm a) I

just don’t understand all this. H e exits. T here is a sile n c e as th e tw o w o m en lo o k a t each o th er.

N o rre e n : Why? T h e lm a : I am not going to stand by and see

T h e lm a : Don't leave me alone here. Thanks

N o rre e n : Are you alright?

your future ruined.

dear.

T h e lm a : Absolutely. I know what I’ve got to

N o rre e n : Dad needs me. T h e lm a : And so does Phillip. (A gain th e tw o

N o rre e n : (N o rreen g e ts h e r m o th e r a sh e rry )

do.

Here.

N o rre e n : What?

w o m e n look a t each o th e r) I’ll be alright.

T h e lm a : Thanks — I need it.

T h e lm a : Never you mind, everything’s alright

N o rre e n svalks to h e r m o th e r, g iv e s h er a qu ick

N o rre e n : Sure.

now.

hug, e x its o u t th e back door. T helm a re tu rn s to

T h e lm a : Do you think it's a bomb.

N o rre e n : I'll get dad.

k itch en . S h e is se en m o v in g a ro u n d p re p a rin g

N o rre e n : No. no it wouldn’t be anything like

P h illip : Leave him.

th e m eal. B ob e n ters, slo w ly , h e c o m e s in, n o t

that.

N o rre e n : No — it’s cold outside.

s h u ttin g th e d o o r b e h in d him . H e g o e s o v e r to

T h e lm a : Then what?

P h illip : Norreen. leave him on his own.

th e p o t p la n ts, h e is a lm o s t in a s ta te o f tra n ce

S h e tak es a large g u lp o f th e sh erry.

N o rre e n : You think so?

T h e lm a : Shut that door!

N o rre e n : It’s probably nothing.

P h illip : Yes, yes I do.

B o b s h u f fe s back to th e d o o r a n d clo ses it g e n tly

S h e begin s s e ttin g d in in g table.

F ra n k : I’ve never seen a man struck like that

a n d th en re tu rn s to his p o t p la n ts. T helm a en te rs

T h e lm a : Phillip saw three men run out of our drive in a hurry, it must have been somethin'. N o rre e n : Have you thought about visiting Auntie Flo for a while? T h e lm a : Perhaps 1 should, then 1 could see Geoff and the kids without worrying Joan too much. N o rre e n : Well I think you should go then. T h e lm a : You know how hard —

before.

a fte r a tim e w ith tw o p la tes, sh e p la c e s th e m on

P h illip : No.

th e table, th en sits d o w n a n d b egin s to e a t o f f o f

S h o rt silence.

o n e o f th em , fin a lly .

F ra n k : This thing’s got to end, ain't it?

Your meal is here. (T h e re is n o a h sw e r f r o m

P h illip : Yes, yes it has.

Bob. A f te r a n o th e r lo n g p a u se ) W ill you come

F ra n k : Don’t think I'll talk about it to him

and eat your meal?

tonight though, tomorrow would be better.

A f te r a n o th e r to n g pau se.

P h illip is a b o u t to a n sw er, in ste a d h e sh ru g s his

Bob: What?

sh ou lders in d ic a tin g h e is w a sh in g his h an ds o f

T h e lm a : I said your tea is on the table!

N o rre e n d ro p s th e w o o d e n sa lt sh a k e r c a u sin g to

th e m a tte r. S h ort silen ce.

je r k n erv o u sly .

Thelma, I don’t think I’ll stay —

To T helm a, Listen

Bob: Thanks (he co n tin u e s to sta r e a t th e plan ts).

N o rre e n : Settle down.

T h e lm a : (c o m in g to s e r v e r y w ith tea to w e l in

T h e lm a : Pull yourself together and come and

T h e lm a : Oh.

h an d) Frank?

sit down.

N o rre e n : You really must have a break, sit

F ra n k : No, not tonight, not now ( h e s ta n d s up) I’ll go, out the front door. T h e lm a : Frank! F ra n k : Look after him tonight Thelma. T h e lm a : Frank — d<3n't go.

B ob gla n ces up, th en s lo w ly w ith o u t th ou gh t,

down. T h e lm a : ( s ittin g d o w n )Oh Norreen. N o rre e n : (p la cing an a rm a ro u n d h e r m o th e r)

It’s alright, it's alright there, there — I'm going to speak to Dad. this thing has gone too far. F o r s o m e tim e N o rre e n co n tin u e s to c o m fo r t h er m o th e r, th e b a ck d o o r op en s, f i r s t P h illip w alks in, f o llo w e d b y F rank, th e ir f a c e s so m b re.

N o rre e n : W hat’s happened? P h illip : (a fter a f e w m o m e n ts ) They've wrecked

his garden. N o rre e n : No! P h illip n ods.

N o rre e n : Where is dad? F ra n k : He wanted to be on his own. You

F rank e x its a n d th e f r o n t d o o r shuts.

What’s got into him? P h illip : I think he's had enough of it too. T h e lm a : We all have. P h illip : Mrs. Davies, 1 would like Norreen to stay at my sisters' — (silen ce) I said ... T h e lm a : I heard what yer said. N o rre e n : (to P hillip) Dad needs me now — more than ever. P h illip : The only person who can help him now is himself.

w a n ders a im le ss ly to th e ta b le a n d sits d o w n : bu t h e do es n o t eat.

T h e lm a : For goodness sake eat your tea ... Bob: I'm not hungry. T h e lm a : I don't know why I go to the bother to get you anything. (T h ere is a n o th e r sile n c e as B ob sits tra n c e lik e a t th e table. T he ten sio n in T helm a can

be se n s e d as sh e g la n ces

w ith

re g u la rity a t h e r h u sb a n d b e tw e e n m ou th fu ls. A t last sh e p u ts d o w n h er k n ife a n d f o r k a n d sta re s across a t B o b .) Well now at least you’ll

pay your levy!? N o an sw er.

Well say something! A n o th e r silence.

should have seen the look in his eyes, like he just, well, just died. I ain't seen a look like that before on a man, not alive. N o rre e n : I don't think we should leave him alone.

Don't worry. Look Mrs. Davies, Norreen is my concern now and I'm not going to see her break under all this.

P h illip : Yes, he wants to be alone, for a little

T h e lm a : I think you should go Norreen.

Bob: And the lettuces, they even tore out the lettuces too.

T h e lm a : Phillip it would be alright — I mean

proper like? P h illip :

Bob: They even ripped up the cabbages — what would they do that for? T h e lm a : I said, at least you'll pay the levy — won’t you! (sile n c e ) W ill you answer me!?

anyway.

N o rre e n : You, why mum?

T h e lm a : Norreen has left — you forced.her to

N o rre e n : Why, why would anyone do that?

P h illip : (w a lk in g to N o r re e n ) Come on, we are

T h e lm a : Well I'm glad, it should bring him to

going.

his senses. I'm glad. I'm glad, you hear.

N o rre e n : I'm — I’m not sure.

leave — do you hear me! Bob: (he n o d s) Yes, yes. Norreen has left. T h e lm a : Yes she has. and she won’t come back, not until you have paid the levy. Do you hear, not until you've paid the levy. Bob: The levy? The levy! The bloody levy.

N o rre e n : You couldn't really mean that mum.

P h illip : You're coming. I insist.

T h e lm a : Oh, I do, I do with all my soul. I do

T h e lm a : I want you to go.

believe me.

N o rre e n : Why?

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

T h e lm a : Norreen's not coming back until you

Bob: (fla tly) Think what you like.

do. You, you are payin' it. Bob: I suppose so. T h e lm a : Suppose... Bob: Alright, alright I’ll pay. T h e lm a : Good, now Normie told me all you have to do is sign a piece of paper, that you will forget the whole business and ... Bob: Pitcher told you — have y o u seen him? T h e lm a : (sh o rt h esita tio n ) Mr. Pitcher called

T h e lm a : I'm right, ain't I? For the first time

today. Bob: Pitcher, here! T h e lm a : Yeah, all you have to do is sign a

paper and it will all be forgotten. Bob: Paper! I ’m not signin’ any paper, no, no I’m not. What, so I’ll be a good boy — is that it. No, I'm not signin’ any paper. T h e lm a : Don’t be like that. Normie was very nice about the whole thing. He's said he’s willing to come back tomorrow with this other ... Bob: Pitcher in this house! — don't even mention his name in this house, never. T h e lm a : Don't you, don't you threaten me. Bob: I’m not signin' any paper! T h e lm a : What about Norreen. you want her back, don't you? Bob: Yes, yes I do, but she will be married in a couple of months anyway. T h e lm a : You selfish swine, the best thing that ever happened was what happened to those carnations of yours. Silence.

Bob: What did you say? T h e lm a : You heard me — it's the best thing

that ever happened. Bob: You — you shouldn’t have said that Thelma — you take that back now, take it back. T h e lm a : Why should 1? Bob: TAKE IT BACK! T h e lm a : No, what I said is a fact. Bob: A fact! T h e lm a : Yes a fact. (B ob beg in s to laugh,

Bob: You want to see the real world! I'll show you the real world! (H e p u lls h er o v e r to w a rd s

since yer come home from the war yer feel

th e b o okcase, sh e a tte m p ts to p u ll a w a y , o n ly to

you're alive! Well don’t yer? Bob: I don’t have to explain myself to you. T h e lm a : But you can’t, you can't explain yourself Bob Davies. Oh, 1 understand you now, 1 understand you real well, oh. oh, I really pity you, I really do. Why, you're a coward, you're frightened of the real world, you’re frightened of life itself, you're frightened to live life as it’s

b e th ro w n to th e f l o o r b y B ob w h o th en reach es

supposed to be lived. Bob: Supposed to be lived! How's that, tell me, go on tell me, I want to know, I really do, how is life supposed to be lived for the likes of me? Dad told me how he thought it should be, how it was goin’ to be for us. That we, the workers were goin’ to know the answer because we had suffered long enough for it. We'd find it in our new earnt time, we’d learn to use more than these (he o p e n s th e p a lm s o f his h an ds) The answer, he said, was goin’ to lie with us, who’d been down trodden and exploited from the very moment they began so-called civilization. Poor fool, my old man, he died believin’ we had nearly reached our goal. And he thought at least I would find it, we would find it. the answer, ha! Yer, my old man, he said we were goin' to find out how life was supposed to be lived, but it was a rainbow Thelma, a rainbow. (M o v e s clo se to T helm a ) No, Thelma I ain’t got your blind faith and I don't want it, I don’t want it, not unless 1 find it myself. Maybe yer are right, that 1 don't know how life is supposed to be lived, but who. who, who in the bloody hell does, tell me0 (w h isp er) Who does? T h e lm a : If you hadn’t turned your back on God. you wouldn't be talkin' like this now, you'd know how life is supposed to be lived. Bob: God, who’s he? Go on tell me — I want to know that too, believe me I do. And, who turned

b e h in d th e b o o k c a se a n d p u lls o u t th e h a n d gre n a d e ) Now defend your God.

T h e lm a : Must be a nightmare. Bob: Show me your faith, the one you keep

telling me about, show it! (H e p u ts his h a n d on th e pin o f 'th e g re n a d e a n d p u lls it c lo se to h er f a c e ) Do you know what this is? This is the real

world. (She n o d s) It will put your faith to the ultimate and final test. (She begin s to so b ) Now give me an answer. I am waitin', speak Thelma Davies, tell me how life should be lived. (Silence) Speak! T h e lm a : Leave me alone. Silence.

Bob: Marvellous, bloody marvellous, life in

three words, leave me alone. What else! Don't stop now. Who knows perhaps you do hold the real truth to this life, perhaps all the Thelma Davies' of this world do. T h e lm a : Oh god! Bob: Yes call him, call your God. Bring him

here so he can account for himself, this is our day of judgement, bring him here. T h e lm a : Oh God what have 1 done to deserve this? Bob: What have we all done (sh ou tin g) What have we all done. Call your God. let him tell me how life is supposed to be lived. T h e lm a : Oh I hate you, Jesus I hate you! Bob: Oh God hear that, hear her first moment of real passion — there is hope — 1 can see it, there is hope, come on. more. T h e lm a : Oh Jesus! (in tears again ) Bob: Yes, oh Jesus, oh Jesus we are waiting — quick your time is running out — call him again. T h e lm a : Oh, Jesus, please. Bob: Yes, Oh Jesus please where are you? Come if you dare. (T h elm a begin s to so b h yste ric a lly ) No you mustn’t stop now . not now. (H e m en a ces h er again w ith th e g re n a d e ) You mustn’t stop. Call him. You hear — please, please Thelma call him, call him. (She co n tin u e s

laugh u n til h e ’s h y ste ric a l) Stop it! (he sto p s

whose back on who? T h e lm a : I’m not goin’ to sit here listenin' to

a b ru p tly).

that.

Bob: Did you invite Pitcher here? T h e lm a : What? Bob: You heard me — yer invited him didn’t

Bob: Don't back away, don't do that, it’s too easy. If you've got so much faith, show it. T h e lm a : (A b o u t to sta n d u p f r o m h e r se a t) I’m

yer?

going to bed.

F in a lly B ob sp e a k s again ) You see, you've seen

T h e lm a : Yes, yes I did as a matter of fact, and

S h e beg in s to p ic k u p h er p la te, B ob is sta n d in g

your mate Frank arranged i t ... did you hear me,

o v e r th e to p o f h e r n ow .

your mate arranged it!

Bob: No don't run away, not this time, you’re

P ause, f in a lly B o b speaks.

the one that's callin’ be a coward, stay and defend, defend. T h e lm a : You’re really quite mad. (B ob laughs)

it, the real world and you were frightened too. (H e p laces th e p in ba ck in th e g re n a d e ) There, there is your real world. (H e sp rea d s his p a lm s again, th e g re n a d e -o n d isp la y ) Where was he? (pause) where was your God? Now gel up and go pray to your God and, (a lm o st in a w h isper) if you want, for me too. (S lo w ly sh e sta n d s to h er f e e t, s till so b b in g q u ie tly ) Go on, — go and pray

B ob: You should never have done that — you

and Frank — you shouldn’t have. And — and it was you, you who turned Norreen against me, wasn’t it? T h e lm a : What do you mean?

Stop it. Bob: Mad am I? (H e laughs again ) T h e lm a : Stop it, stop it, — get out of my way.

to so b e v e n m ore , s lo w ly slip p in g to th e flo o r .

— for us both. H e tu rn s his b a c k on her. F in a lly w ith p h y sic a l

T h e lm a : Any sane person would!

I ’m going to bed. Bob: Defend your God.

Bob: What did you tell her Thelma?

T h e lm a : Let me past.

a tim e, B ob p la c e s th e g re n a d e o n th e chair, h e

T h e lm a : I didn't tell her anything. You're

Bob: Go on Thelma Davies tell me what is the

sta res a t it, as i f d e b a tin g w h e th e r to p ic k it up

hopeless, absolutely hopeless. Bob: Yeah hopeless, hopeless that’s what I am. T h e lm a : Why, you’ve really enjoyed all this, a star on the tele. Yer, yer, that’s it, you think . you’re some star don't yer? Playin' the last of the

real world — no yer don’t, you’re not going anywhere, not until you give me an answer. T h e lm a : Stop it. (She sees a ch a n ce to ru n a n d d o e s so, o n ly to b e ca u g h t b y th e a rm ) Let me go!

Bob: She believes I should pay the levy too.

great martyrs, that’s it, ain't it?

e ffo r t o n h er p a rt, sh e e x its rig h t o f stage. A f te r

a n d p u ll th e pin . H e th re a d s a f in g e r th ro u g h th e p in a n d d an gles th e gren ade, h o ld in g it u p high. T he c o m p u lsio n to p u ll th e pin o u t is stron g. S o ftly.

Bob: I want an answer.

Bob: Oh Jesus, oh Jesus!

T h e lm a : No.

H e p u ts th e g re n a d e back on (he chair, h e s lo w ly THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

g o e \ lo th e kitch en a n d returns w ith a can o f b e e r

lo u n g e d oor. S h e th en

a n d drin k s fro m it. H e th en lo o k s u p a t th e h e a d

lo u n g ero o m

table.

th e

O ffsta g e th e k e ttle b egin s to boil. B o b tries to

W ith p e n a n d p a p e r sh e

w alks a cross to

speak, b u t n o th in g com es. T he sh rill w h is tle o f

c a r v in g f o r s o m e tim e.

beg in s to w rite. A f te r a tim e sh e sta n d s up. looks

th e k e ttle can b e heard.

Yer bastard, yer bastard.

a ro u n d , m o m e n ta r ily nostalgic, th en sh e w alks

H e sh ou ts, a n d th en w ith a ll his s tr e n g th h e

to th e p h o n e a n d dials.

B ob : f in a lly ) Thelma, how about it tonight, tonight we ...

th ro w s th e b e e r can a t th e h e a d ca rvin g . T here is

T h e lm a : Frank, Thelma, come and get me, please ... yes now ... just put your overalls on — anything! Just do as I ask. I’m leaving Bob. (Bob

n o stre n g th left in him , h e is d ra in e d o f life and, w ith e ffo rt h e m o v e s to his a rm c h a ir a n d fa d s in to it. H e p la c e s his h a n d s o v e r his f a c e a n d

D a v ie s e n te rs b a c k d o o r c a rry in g his w a terin g

q u ie tly sobs.

can. sees T helm a, lo o k s f o r a m o m e n t as i f h e m ig h t re trea t, th en m o v e s to h is p o t p la n ts.)

Now!

T h e lm a : The kettle is boiling. B ob : (w a lk in g q u ic k ly to th e k itch en a n d th en re tu rn in g ) But you can’t — you can't just go like that, you just can't! T h e lm a : There’s two pounds of rump steak in the fridge — you shouldn’t need anything for a few days except a few odds and ends. B ob : You are serious, aren’t you? T h e lm a : I've left a note.

SCENE 3

S h e h an gs up. th e re is an a w k w a r d silen ce

This sc e n e s h o u ld b e b rid g e d q u ic k ly w ith th e

su d d e n ly h e sto p s a n d p la c e s his can on th e

B o b lo o k s a w a y f r o m his w ife. T hen th e re is a

last. T he s o u n d e ffe c t o f p o r t a n d d o c k n o ises is a

flo o r . T helm a raises h er f in g e r as i f to c o m m e n t

k n o c k a t th e b a c k door. F ran k sh e e p ish ly enters.

su g g estio n to a c h ie v e th is bridge.

on this, h o w e v e r sh e c h eck s herself.

T helm a begin s to p ic k up h er su itcase. B oth

It is m orn in g , ra y s o f lig h t a re c o m in g th ro u g h

F ran k a n d B ob g o to it. T here is a h e sita tio n as

is on a n e w d a y begin n in g. A ll se n se o f th e n ig h t

B ob: They didn’t get them all — the carnations, there's still some there. (B ob g o e s to kitch en , o ffsta g e k itc h e n ) Like a cuppa? (T h elm a d o e s n o t

back, g e stu re s s lig h tly f o r F rank to g o a h e a d a n d

b e fo re has go n e.

a n sw er. H e re tu rn s to lo u n g e — it is o b v io u s h e

ta k e th e case. T h elm a w alks o u t th e ba ck door,

b e tw e e n th em . B ob b egin s w a te rin g h is pla n ts,

th e lo u n g e a n d k itch en w in d o w s. T he em p h a sis H o w e v e r th e g re n a d e s till

b o th m e n sta r e a t each o th er. Then B ob ste p s

re m ain s on th e chair.

is u nable to took d ire c tly a t Thelma. H e m o v e s to

F rank f o r a m o m e n t tu rn s back to B ob a s i f h e is

B o b D a v ie s w a k e s a n d s lo w ly m o v e s f r o m his

his a rm c h a ir a n d sits in it. T h elm a sta n d s back

g o in g to s a y so m e th in g , th en exits. A f te r a tim e

a rm c h a ir to th e k itch en .

The kettle won't be long Look I'm sorry, it just happened. I'm sorry ... alright0 (silence). Look Thelma (he tu rn s in his ch a ir a n d lo o k s a t h er) I just can't do it. just can't. Look. I ’ll tell yer what, we’ll both go off to the Hicks tonight, you and me just like it used to be. Why, we'll even eat out first. After all I suppose we are on our own now, hey, how about that and (he o b se rv e s th e su it c a s e ) and ... T h e lm a : They don't say Hicks anymore.

H e s h o w s a ll th e

m a n n erism s o f a p e rso n su ffe rin g f r o m a b a d n igh t. H e e n te rs th e k itch en . T ap w a te r is h ea rd to run, a cou gh , th en a g u rg lin g so u n d . A g a in a g u rg lin g so u n d , a n o th e r co u g h and, a sp it. H e w alks ba ck in to

v ie w o f th e a u d ien ce, s till

s h o w in g a d a z e d m an n er. H e sta re s f o r a tim e a t th e g ren a d e. H e e x its o u t b a ck d oor. T he lig h t th ro u g h th e w in d o w s b rig h te n s fu r th e r . T helm a D a v ie s en te rs w e a rin g s u it a n d g lo v e s, sh e is c a rry in g a s u it ca se w h ich sh e p la c e s n e x t to

b e h in d th e chair.

B ob g o e s o v e r to th e ta b le a n d sta re s a t th e

f u r th e r

gren ade. F in ally, h e se e s n o te a n d rea d s it.

silen ce )

B ob: (readin g alo u d ) Pay gas bill and water rates next week. Nearly out of sugar. Buy detergent. (H e g o e s to a rm c h a ir a n d sits in it — ligh ts f a d e sin g le s p o t on Bob. in a q u ie t voice,)

Oh Christ, Jesus Christ. F a d e out.

END OF PLAY

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"ALL MY SONS” DIRECTED BY CYRIL KLEIN

AT THE COLEMAN THEATRE THE PLAZA — BONDI JUNCTION O P E N IN G N IG H T 1 5 T H JU L Y

lIP,msoh•

PERFORMANCES 16th, 18th, 19th, 22nd, 23rd TICKETS $4. Group Concessions Available.

INFORMATION & TICKETS 30-1371

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

Records

Roger Coveil

Tristan: A Set That Began An Era H indsight suggests th a t D ecca’s 1961 issue of a recording of Tristan and Isolde conducted by G eorg Solti began an era. It is true th a t D ecca h a d begun its m arvel lous com plete recording of The Ring slightly earlier th a n this; b u t Tristan inevitably h a d the greater im p act w hen it first ap p eared because it was a com plete w ork a n d generated no speculation as to how an unfinished project m ight continue. T he revelation of Tristan was, first of all, the quality an d im m ediacy of the orches tra l sound. D ecca received some criticism a t the tim e for placing the o rch estra so far forw ard in perspective an d for seem ing to m ingle it on equal term s w ith th e voices of the solosits. U p to then, I th in k it is tru e to say, m ost opera recordings h a d ten d ed to give clear priority to th e voices an d to set the o rchestra som e distance fu rth er b ack in the a u ral perspective of th e whole. T his confirm ed to the im pression of an op era given in actu al perform ance in a n u m b er of fam ous opera houses, where th e position of the orchestra in a deeply recessed pit inevitably does help voices to sta n d out m ore prom inently. D ecca a n d in p a rticu la r its pro d u cer John C ulshaw were not seeking to re p ro duce an op era house perform ance b u t to achieve som ething new in th e way of balance an d perspective. T his new ideal recognized the opportunities as well as the lim itations of th e recording studio an d sought to ta k e positive advantage of th em instead of apologising for them or m in i m izing them . It was as if th e listener was being offered a chance to h ear a n d a tte n d to all com ponents of the o p era w ith m axim um intensity, to some ex tent in the way th a t a very skilled score read er m ight piece the w ork together in his own im agination. T he o rchestra could be h e a rd in u n p recedented splendour; b u t th ere was no fear th a t the voices would be lost as a result. Fine adjustm ents in recording balance a n d the ability of stereo recording to present different stream s of sound sim ultaneously w ithout necessarily allow ing one to be sw am ped provided th e technical m eans for this to be achieved. T he second revelation of th e new set was an extension of the first: it becam e clear th a t D ecca h ad ado p ted a policy of presenting Tristan on disc as an experi ence th a t could tak e advantage of resources not available in the th eatre. T he way th a t the eighteen horns used for the h u n tin g sounds at the beginning of A ct Two were disposed throug h the tex tu re so as to give an im pression of th e g rad u al d isappearance of the hun tin g p arty into the distance w ould be rarely, if ever, practicab le backstage in th e th eatre. T he special colour surrounding the singing of the w atching B rangaene, as if it was su rro u n d ed by som e k in d of m oonlit haze, was an o th er rem ark ab le device. (It may also have been useful for the purpose of disguising or softening the ra th e r obtrusive

fact, I believe it is as cen tral to h er a rt as anything else she h as ever p u t on disc. T he title can be tak e n literally to some extent. S u th erlan d h e a rd some of these songs sung by h er m other, who from all accounts was a m ezzo-soprano of great prom ise who was able to sing pleasingly up to th e tim e of her death at th e age of seventy four. A t least th a t is how h er illustrious d au g h ter rem em bers her; a n d th a t may be all th a t m atters. It is apparen tly a fact th a t S u th erlan d ’s m o th er was a pu p il of B urns W alker, who him self studied with M archesi a n d L am perti. It is n o t h a rd to deduce th a t S u th e rla n d ’s great an d lasting success h as been b u ilt up to some extent on singing h ab its acquired in early childhood. F u rth erm o re, it is very evident th a t S u th erlan d herself finds stren gth in acknow ledging the singing trad itio n from which she cam e. By th a t I m ean the trad itio n of o p eratic excerpts an d draw ing room b allad s w hich were th e tru e heritage of a young singer growing up in A ustralia in the earlier p a rt of this century. T here is certainly no trace of condescension in her m an n er or voice w hen she sings Amy W o rth ’s “ M id su m m er” or “ I was d re a m ing” by th e A u stralian resident A ugustus Juncker. M endelssohn’s “ O n W ings of Song” , the song by D vorak from w hich the record borrow s its title, ch aracter pieces by Delibes a n d songs by M assenet an d G rieg tak e th eir place w ith “ Bonnie M ary of Argyll” , F ra n k La F orge’s “ I Cam e W ith A Song” a n d T eresa Del R iego’s “ H om ing” in a p rogram m e of m uch charm a n d som e fun. T he q u otation m arks of the occasion are supplied mostly by D ouglas G am ley’s arrangem ents, w hich do dress up th e w eaker nu m b ers a little. R ichard ' Bonynge conducts the New P h ilh arm o n ia O rch estra an d th e original recording was obviously skilfully m ade. K a ra ja n ’s new recording of th e nine sym phonies of Beethoven [Philips 2740 172-10; eight discs ] will shortly be issued, I u n d erstan d , as a series of single discs. I have been enjoying the boxed set for its virtually unrivalled quality an d consistency of sound in this m usic an d for the usually balan ced a n d im m aculate perform ances given by K a rajan w ith his m arvellous Berlin P hilh arm o n ic O rchestra. In case im m aculate should sound like a term of abuse, I should ad d th a t the perform ances in general have all th e stren g th and im petus th a t m ost listeners expect to find in satisfying recordings of the Beethoven sym phonies. I was slightly d isappointed with K a ra ja n ’s reading of the fourth sym phony; a n d m any listeners are b o u n d to p refer this o r th a t recording of one of the sym phonies. I cannot th in k of any M y M other Taught M e [Decca, re-issued oth er set, however, which is as well recorded as this th ro u g h o u t or as consis in Australia by the World Record Club te n t in p erform ance an d style. T he set rises R. 04389] m ight seem simply one of those to its greatest heights in an absolutely crow d-pleasing ab erratio n s of taste or o u tstan d in g account of the n in th ju d g em en t th a t are likely to catch up with sym phony. m ost fam ous singers from tim e to tim e. In

b eat in R egina R esnik’s voice as she sang this part). Less obvious a t th e tim e was th e fact th a t this recording gave a sensitive tenor, F ritz U hl, th e chance to p a rtn e r Brigit Nilsson w ithout o u r feeling th a t his relatively sm all voice m ade him u n fit for the p a rt. In retrospect it seems as if U h l’s singing of th e p a rt of T ristan in this recording was th e high point of his career. T h ough he went on to m ake m any im p o rtan t appearances, I do no t th in k he achieved a greater artistic success th a n in this D ecca set of 1961. M ention of Nilsson also rem in d s us th a t we were n o t nearly so ready th en to tak e th e gigantic, b rillian t a n d in dom itable voice of this singer for g ran ted . I h a d h e a rd F lag stad in the th eatre in h er final series of Isoldes a n d knew w hat a great Isolde could sound like. B ut th e fresh stren g th a n d absolutely certain progress of Nilsson th ro u g h the p a rt in th is recording b u rst on th e senses like a prolonged an d ap parently inex hau stib le firew ork display. Solti’s w ork w ith th e cast a n d th e V ienna P hilharm onic enabled him to tak e a decisive step tow ards in tern atio n al suprem acy w ith this recording; a n d the suprem acy he e sta b lished w ith th e release of these discs still belongs to him as fa r as I am concerned. If th e set h as given me less pleasure in recent years, th a t is simply because my copy showed th e scars of its early intensive playing m ore a n d m ore as tim e w ent on an d as play b ack equ ip m en t becam e m ore sensitive. D ecca has mercifully re-pressed a n d re-issued th e set so th a t it can now be enjoyed in all its original glory [Decca D41D; five discs\ T he glory is, in fact, all th e greater now because m any of us will be playing it th ro u g h b e tte r systems. T he era th a t beg an w ith th e D ecca Tristan a n d its slightly earlier Rheingold has seen the innovations of these sets sp read th ro u g h th e th in k in g of th e recording industry. It is tru e th a t m any new o pera sets of the p resent day fall fa r sh o rt of these recordings in th e ir ability to m ak e a positive m erit of th e studio process. Even D ecca h as retre a te d from the advanced position of som e of its earlier essays of th e 1960’s. T h a t is because m any recordings are u n d e rta k e n w ithout the thoro u g h pre-p lan n in g th a t was ado p ted for Tristan an d The Ring series. B ut the consciousness of th e achievem ent a n d its function as a p e rm an en t sta n d a rd an d insp iratio n rem ains. O ne p e rm an en t legacy of the D ecca techniques of th e 1960’s, I believe, has been to m ake a greater prom inence a n d closer presence of th e o rchestral share in an o p era alm ost universal. Joan S u th e rla n d ’s disc entitled Songs

THEATRE ALSTRALIA JUNE 1978

William Shoubridge

T he A ustralian D ance T h eatre is now type, she throw s off the kim ono an d one year old. H aving p erform ed eight generally m akes a nuisance of herself an d seasons collectively in South A u stralia an d th en goes straig h t into a very o rdinary V ictoria, garn ered together an enviably dance sequence, so any sense of ch aracter large repertoire an d discovered already a goes for a b u rto n . T he rest of the dance couple of choreographic talen ts w ithin its sequences a re n ’t th a t interesting either, own ranks, one would say th a t by a n d large being of the drop, kick, stretch, b en d it is self supporting. H aving a loyal variety th a t ram b les on by fits an d starts, audience (steadily growing) also helps. shrugs an d p ratfalls fueled by an inane I fear th a t some audiences m ay have nagging brightness. T he A D T dancers m ade the w rong ju d g em en t on the stren g th p erform ed it w ith an acute look of apology of the A m erican choreog rap h ers’ season on th eir faces w hich is a b o u t all they could th a t was the A D T offering for the Festival, do poor things. for it was to m e an d for m any audiences a W hen Y u rik o ’s Celebration p opped up, deep disap p o in tm en t an d as fa r as the I th o u g h t th a t th ere m ust be som ething in com pany is concerned, definitely u n re p Japanese lady ch o reographers th a t m ade resentative. them so optim istic a n d witlessly joyful, W hy the decision was m ade to have an som ething th a t I h a d missed. Celebrations all A m erican program m e I d o n ’t know, has m uch th e sam e sort of anecdotal, b u t to have four works, two of th em “ lig h t” athletic firew orks feel to it b u t at least h ad an d two “ heavy” p articu larly when the the saving grace of p attern in g th a t was people involved are not really of th e front attractive a n d dynam ic. Totally plotless, it ran k , strikes m e as artistic a n d box office was sassy, shiny a n d a little self c o n g ratu insanity. F a r b e tte r to have h a d a w ider latory, p ep p ered w ith long leaps, ju m p s selection w ith at least one A u stralian work. an d steel h a rd footw ork. T he m usic was a Since th e new ideal of the A delaide Vivaldi concerto w hich always m akes me Festival is to have A ustralian w orks one suspicious. So m any h alf talen ts use this would have th o u g h t th a t the A D T, being style of m usic w ith lots of busy notes so m ore flexible m ight have tak en th e lead, they can cram lots of busy little steps into seeing th a t the SATC an d th e State O p era it, k idding them selves th a t they possess a h a d n ’t. fecund ch oreographic invention. Y u rik o ’s O n e’s ire w ould have been d iluted if the skill however saved it from becom ing a w orks seen were of some w orth b u t only p e rt little ro u tin e num ber. D u ring the one or two of th em were anyw here n ear finale the dan cers rollicked aro u n d with keeping. T here are lots of good to g reat roses in th e ir h an d s, placing them in a vase A m erican creators to chose from all of a t the end, a nittw itty touch th a t did wildly divergent styles; People like Re my nothing for me b r the ballet. C harlip, Jennifer M ueller, R obert W ilson, M ore in teresting, an d not ju s t because Elliot Feld, Louis Falco an d Twyla T h a rp , of its m ore “ serious” subject m atter, was b u t surely it is A ustralian choreographers Cliff K e u te r’s For One Who D ied Young. th a t should be given the chance to try an d Someone told m e th a t this was n o t the fail before all these com parable overseas elegy th a t K eu ter h a d com posed for his people? younger b ro th e r who h a d been killed by a O n the stren g th of her first w ork for th e sn ip er’s b u llet on M alibu beach, b u t it A DT, S ara Sugihara, I venture to suggest, looked like it to me. is best left to lift h er gam e a b it a n d th en T he w ork begins w ith a clutch of venture o u t as a choreographer. She a n d dancers g ath ered over the corpse of a the com pany could be b e tte r served by young m an. They u tte r calls an d recrim getting h er o u t here for a prolonged season inations into th e void, fall into tw isted to w ork w ithin the com pany a n d im prove heaps of escape a n d self protection, none h er work as it goes along. S u g ih ara’s piece of th em w anting to tak e the blam e for F has a lot less p o ten tial th a n some pieces w hat h ap p en ed . T iny nodules of a dance by A ustralian based creators who are still p hrase are p assed from one to the other, w aiting in the backblocks for atten tio n . growing to create an accum ulation, a F is irritatingly throwaw ay, a n d th a t is feeling of collective a n d personal loss; a bout the best thing th a t could be done phrases th a t peel away to reveal each of w ith it. W ith a set com prising a row of low them alone w hilst together. They all realize stools a n d a projected back drop of M o u n t th a t it could have h a p p en ed to them an d Fugi th a t has little to do with anything, th e one day m ight. T he corpse, L azarus-like piece is one of those works th a t w ander comes to life an d tears th ro u g h the group as a ro u n d endlessly looking for a form a n d a if h a u n tin g th em or trying to give com fort, fram ew ork. b u t none will be com forted. As th e ghost T he cast of five w ear black kim onos over flutters th ro u g h this guilt rid d en group, coloured tights and one of the cast is tim e a n d sequence loop in on them selves, always idiosyncratically ou t of sync w ith p ast a n d p resen t interm ingle, while fact, the events, a renegade th a t precip itates fantasy a n d m em ory becom e tangled. m uch frisking and frolicing ab o u t from th e In fact th ere are too m any tangled others. B ut even the renegade isn’t tru e to strands in th e w ork. T he sense of loss an d 42

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

Dance

guilt is im m ediately conveyed, b u t the physical a n d em otional im pact of the event on each person isn ’t all th a t clearly illu strated , it rem ains essentially ju s t an event, a reactio n a n d a group recollection. P erh ap s if it was longer an d the m aterial given m ore tim e to work itself out, those stran d s could have been m ore intrinsically u nderlined. As it was, if it w asn’t for the co m m itm en t an d edgy intensity th a t the A D T dan cers b ro u g h t to it, For One Who D ied Young could have subsided into a mess of n eurotic w riting, ripe for the analyst’s couch. But m en tio n of the coherence of the dancers in this w ork brings me to the reason of th e m ajor dance piece of the pro g ram m e, K e u te r’s Field rem ained rem ote a n d enigm atic. M ost of th e dancers were confused a n d d id n ’t quite know w hat it was supposed to be saying. M ost of the com pany’s dancers are classically trained; they do n o t yet have enough (dram atic) stage experience, b u t have been ta u g h t to sell the p ro d u c t as classicism is wont to. T h a t distinction m akes all the difference in such an introspective a n d febrile work as this. To say th a t Field tread s deep into E ugene O ’Neil country is to categorise it unduly, b u t it is flecked with O ’N eil’s cum ulative power, his guilt an d obsessive ness a n d his fa th e r/so n love/hate them es. T he idea of Field is sim ple a n d tim eless, th a t of a son leaving the fam ily for the first tim e a n d th e webs of m em ory, love and pow er th a t still b in d him . The fam ily as such is p erip h eral, existing only to focus the fa th e r/so n struggle for dom inance a n d /o r release. O ne sees the event thro u g h b o th th e ir eyes, of the son reliving childhood struggles, of the fath er reliving his p a st th ro u g h his son an d the m em ory becom ing too m uch. T he duets for the two m en are at tim es ten d er a n d gentle, coloured by sim ple lifts an d tru stin g balances, a t o thers they becom e a grapple; frau g h t b a ttle s for dom ination. A clue to th e w ork is the m usic chosen, being pieces by G ustav M ahler, (“ Song of the E a rth ” , R u ck ert Lieder, 4 th m ovem ent from th e 3 rd sym phony). All of these songs deal w ith rem em berance, joy, sorrow, evanescence a n d loss. Blake Brown as th e son a n d Joe Scoglio as the fa th e r are obviously good actordancers, otherw ise the them e of fa th er/so n would never have com e across. They were fath er a n d son locked into an interior struggle, n o t a couple of hom osexuals having a sp a t as it could have a p p eared in lesser h an d s; th e rest of th e com pany should tak e its clue from them . T hings are b o u n d to im prove once the work settles into repertoire. It is continual p erform ance of w orks like this th a t m ake them live, n o t ju s t rehearsal. Being lim ited by space, th e only oth er m ention of th e A D T ’s Festival season I can

m ention is the choreography for the Ritual Dances th a t Jonathon Taylor choreo g raphed for the produ ctio n of The M idsum m er Marriage. I was n o t aw are of any differentiation or progress in them e in any of them , b u t th a t m ight have been partially the fault of the singularly hideous (and dangerous) set of John C ervenka, cluttered w ith glad w rap foliage an d four-ply lily p ads at the weirdest angles. N evertheless, despite the u ngrateful an d cram ped conditions it was only these dances th a t conveyed any feeling of exhilaration and w onderm ent in which the opera is supposed to abound. Of the oth er offerings at the Festival, all the sm aller experim ental groups from Sydney I will talk about later, when space perm its. To the K abuki T heatre, a w estern critic is im m aterial. I simply k ep t w ishing I could have seen the entirety in Ja p an itself. C ultural exotics like these rarely travel well, as even Sir P eter D aubeny adm itted . The m uch lau d ed Polish M im e Ballet T h eatre was a disastrous bore. Sim plistic scenario, repetitious choreography a n d a total lack of ecstasy and tran scen d en t joy and to tal despair (all them es cen tral to b oth the Bachae a n d Theorama) m ade this to rtu ro u s production one of the m ost depressing an d yaw n-enducing evenings I have ever sat through. Given the sam e

them e, any of o u r own com panies could have done a b e tte r job (witness G raem e M u rp h y ’s Poppy of w hich m ore next issue). Of the w orks in the first program m e of the A ustralian B allet’s Sydney season, Jiri K ylian’s Sym phony in D and Louis F alco ’s Caravan were selected by A nne W oolliam s. F rederick A shton’s The Dream was selected by D am e Peggy van P raag h . In view of the upcom ing works in the season, this speaks volum es to me. D espite Seregi’s Spartacus being the big exception, m any m em bers of the AB are apprehensive ab o u t a re tu rn to the b a d old days when the AB was having the style of the Royal Ballet foisted upo n it, a style th a t ju s t does not sit well on th e hom e team . O u r com pany h as its own m an n er an d outlook, one which is gutsy, u nsubtle an d dram atic, not elegant, effete an d as poised as the Royal. Any a tte m p t to “ refine” th e AB will be a disaster. T his was perfectly obvious to me w ith the p ro d u ctio n of The Dream, a w ork th a t is the epitom e of “ E ng lish ” lyric dancing. It should be airy, elegant a n d courtly, b u t here it w asn’t, it was laboured, mimsy and under-w helm ing. F alco ’s Caravan is m ore in tu n e w ith the AB attitu d e, it dazzles an d sizzles, it is

frenetic a n d highly strung, b u t it is not directionless or em pty. It is simply a collection of dances done by people en route; dances designed to d istract or engage. It is “ a b o u t” th e C aravan of life, the m om ents we fill up w ith action to side-step boredom , dances of discovery, sociability a n d exploration. Every dancer in the work p u t th e last ounce of energy th a t he h a d into it. D espite th e free form , it is severly stru c tu re d an d organized. People should realize th a t a serious w ork is not serious ju s t by virtue of its subject m atter b u t by the th o u g h t th a t h as gone into it. W orking in an un fam iliar idiom , the AB dancers acq u itted them selves w ith tru e verve a n d conviction. Same goes for K ylian’s Symphony in D, a work th a t satirizes all the hoary conventions of classical ballet. Even if one doesn’t know a lot of classical ballet one can still get the poin t of the tongue-incheek com m entary; all those fluffed lifts, m is-tim ed entrances, tangled p artnerings an d little b its of scene stealing. Only one critisism here, the wit has to be exact to m ake its point, the “ m istakes” should be obviously m ean t, som etim es they w eren’t and the audience was left w ondering w hether or not som e of th e gaffs a n d faux p a s’ were intentional.

the dance com anv 1978 season

Graeme Murphy

Drama Theatre — Sydney Opera House June 21-July 8 Two Exciting Programmes PROGRAMME 1 June 21-June 28,8 PM (Matinee Saturday 2 PM) WHITE WOMEN (Premiere) Choreography Graeme Watson EVERYMAN’S TROTH (Premiere) Choreography Don Asker FIRE EARTH AIR WATER Choreography Graeme Murphy PROGRAMME 2 June 30-July 8,8 PM (Matinees Saturday 2 PM)

RETURN SEASON BY PUBLIC DEMAND Choreography and Production: Graeme Murphy Music: Carl Vine Book now S yd n ey O p era House, M itc h e lls A gencies

Q a n ta s S u p p o rts T h e D a n c e C o m p a n y

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUN E 1978

David Gyger

Opera

Ten and Thirty years on

M elissa C happell (Flora), M arilyn R ichardson (Governess) a n d A lexander G ibbs (M iles) in U N S W ’s Turn o f the Screw. T hirty years after its first pro d u ctio n , Sydney’s su b u rb a n R ockdale M u nicipal O pera C om pany is still going strong; ten years after its d eb u t production, so is Roger Covell’s U niversity of New S outh W ales O pera. In the p ast couple of years, they have all b u t m onopolised the Sydney o p era scene below the olym pian heights of th e n a tio n al com pany itself; only the o d d stu d en t productio n at the NSW C onservatorium an d the even ra re r brief season or odd p erform ance of m usic th e a tre h as su p p lem ented th eir offerings. Both these com panies began th eir 1978 seasons w ithin a week of each o th er in m id-A pril, an d w ith w orks utterly typical of the p eculiar repertory mix w hich has enabled them to survive an d keep on surviving w here oth er scratch com panies have come an d gone. T he U N SW O p era was first off th e m ark with an am azingly successful new p ro d u c tion of B enjam in B ritten ’s The Turn o f the Screw (which is based, of course, on the H enry Jam es novelette of th e sam e nam e); R ockdale’s offering was th e G ilb ert a n d Sullivan o p eretta The Yeomen o f the

this year, m ean t th a t M arilyn R ichardson — who m ade h er o p eratic d eb u t in th a t role in th e original prod u ctio n — again ap p eared in th e p a rt. P earl Berridge, who originally sang th e role of M rs G rose the housekeeper in 1968, again played the p a rt this year; a n d Coveil, of course, was again m an n in g the b ato n . It was sad th a t th e opening p erform ance was m a rre d by highly eccentric lighting th ro u g h no fau lt of the prod u ctio n team , or a t least very little: the in n ate eccentric ities of the eq u ip m en t at the U niversity’s Science T h eatre were ex acerb ated by the fact th a t a g rad u a tio n cerem ony up set last m inute p re p a ra tio n s for th e opera. The result was very w eird, giving the im p res

sion eith er th a t som ebody was trying to be very arty o r th a t some club-footed oaf was bu m b lin g a b o u t backstage trip p in g up over the tan g led cords an d switches. M usically, the pro d u ctio n was very strong indeed, p articu larly in the ad u lt soloist d e p a rtm e n t which after all m ust b ear the b ru n t of th e atten tio n of any audience. R ichardson was in ravishing form vocally a n d dram atically; she a n d R onald Dowd, who was a m asterful Q uint, shared the vocal honors w ithout any doubt. B erridge’s housekeeper an d P atricia Brow n’s ex-governess were m ore th a n ad eq u ate, b u t n eith er riveted the d ram atic atten tio n o r p ro d u ced the exciting vocal sounds of R ichardson an d Dowd. A lexander G ibbs acq u itted him self adm irably in the role of the boy M iles, a p a rt difficult ju s t ab o u t to the po in t of im possibility; dram atically he was thoroughly credible, b u t he was vocally tentative in th e m an n er of all b u t the m ost gifted boy sopranos. M elissa C happell was closer to perfection as the girl Flora, alth o u g h in fairness it m ust be no ted th a t F lora is a m u ch less pivotal a n d d e m an d ing p a rt. P erh ap s th e big troubles w ith this Turn o f the Screw arose directly from the in h eren t im possibilities of th e piece itself, which req u ires p h an to m s visible only in the m ind of one c h a ra c te r to be given au ral a n d — at least to som e extent — visual reality. O ne was a good deal too conscious of th e contrivings involved in the visual realisation of the ghostly characters. P artly th is was no d o u b t the fau lt of the last-m in u te lighting crisis, b u t the a p p e a r ances were in general h an d led in an altogether too lum beringly concrete m anner. F ine as is th e idea of having them a p p e a r from th e bowels of the stage or from th e g u ts of th e audience, the effective

Guard. T he U niversity com pany’s distinctive mix encom passes the old, the new a n d the off-beat; R ockdale’s th e sta n d a rd repertory, the tried an d tru e au d ien c e pleasing G an d S pieces, a n d slightly off-beat b u t thoroughly accessible pieces such as little-know n O ffenbach o perettas. T he U N SW com pany officially was celebrating its 10th anniversary by restaging the sam e w ork it p resen ted as its in augural p roduction; an d in th e event the 1978 perform ances were even m ore ak in to the 1968 ones th a n originally announced. T he illness of Beverley Bergen, who h ad been engaged for the role of the governess 44

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JU N E 1978

M elissa C happell (Flora), P earl B erridge (M rs G rese) an d M arilyn R ichardson (Governess) in U N S W ’s Turn o f the Screw.

realisation of the effects was all b u t im possible because of the in h eren t pace of the m usic itself, w hich in any opera inevitably dictates the pace of th e stage action. O rchestrally, this Turn o f the Screw was very good b u t not as im peccable as Covell som etim es has m anaged in the past. As an overall operatic event it m ore th a n deserved the three capacity audiences it lured to K ensington, though; an d it was quite a good curtain-raiser, as it were, for the second decade of the m ost am bitious, active, a n d artistically successful university opera group in A ustralia. T he R ockdale Yeomen o f the Guard was neither disappointing nor exh ilaratin g in the context of the usual stan d ard s of this m ost veteran of A ustralian o p era groups. Two things in p articu la r stru ck me about the perform ance, the advent of m ore th a n the usual q uota of new and unfam iliar faces to the ran k s of th e cast an d the recurrence of so m any of the perennial flaws — particularly orchestral ones — th a t have m arred every p e r form ance I have ever atten d ed in the R ockdale Town Hall. I can n o t b u t record my d isappointm ent th a t so m uch orchestral sloppiness is tolerated in the R ockdale context, for I am sure the players are capable of b e tte r th an they p roduced a t tim es in this Yeomen. Som etim es they played very well, in fact: often enough to indicate th a t a little firm er bearing down from the conductor, Cedric A shton, m ight not only have produced finer playing b u t w ould quite probably not even have been resented by th e m usicians. A m ong the soloists of the nig h t only John W irth-L inquist (Colonel Fairfax) and M ary B lake (D am e C arruthers) an d Rhys D aniell (Sergeant Meryll) were Rockdale regulars. All acq u itted them selves very well, in p a rtic u la r Blake: advancing years have rob bed h er singing voice of som e of its pow er of yore, b u t she is an unequivocal m aster of the vocal and dram atic subtleties of the G an d S dragon ladies. W endy O liver (Elsie) and Sylvia Byron (Phoebe), whose faces are a good deal less fam iliar on the R ockdale stage, were both adequate. John C olditz h a d alm ost the optim um mix of b la ta n t stupidity, guile lessness an d heartless cruelty to m ake the m ost ou t of the strange role of W ilfred S hadbolt the head jailer an d assistant torm entor. But the unquestionable triu m p h of the night was D avid G o d d a rd ’s Jack Point. Those who saw him at R ockdale as a superb Little P risoner in O ffen b ach ’s La Perichole a couple of years ago will need no convincing of his basic talents, a n d in this pivotal role he was m agnificent. H ad the rest of the cast been as effective as he, this would have been a Yeomen to treasu re for a good m any years to come. Both the cu rren t offerings of The A ustralian O p e ra ’s program m e for child ren O pera-G o-R ound, have a good deal of m erit purely as en tertain m en t for infants and prim ary school children.

Sid the Serpent Who W anted to Sing (m usic by M alcolm Fox, words by Jim and Susan Vile) is angled for the little ones;

Professor K o b a lt’s Kinetic Kontraption (m usic by Jeff C arroll, words by R ichard Davey) is aim ed at a slightly m ore m ature audience. Sid is a pastiche of varied m usical styles justified ra th e r tenuously by an episodic

story line which sees the hero traip sin g aro u n d th e globe in search of a place to sing. Kobalt is m ore com plex as to story line, a n d contains a ra th e r sledgeham m er like ecological message th a t tends to annoy ra th e r th a n convert. As one w ould expect, b o th are m ost professionally done an d each provides a good alternative to an h o u r of classroom schooling. W h at relevance they have to o pera education, however, I do not know: musically they please ra th e r th a n exalt; dram atically they are at best ad eq u ate. I cannot help th in k in g th a t the best intro d u ctio n to o p era is op era itself: even the very young can accept it at face value, do not req u ire to have it sugar-coated an d w atered down eith er musically or d ra m a t ically. By fa r th e best effort I have seen in this direction is th e tailored-dow n version of

R ossini’s Barber o f Seville by John T hom pson, executive director of the Q ueensland O p era Com pany. It involves only a h an d fu l of singers an d a set th a t can be packed into a trailer towed by a kom bi van a ro u n d the bush. B ut every note of the m usic is u n a d u lt erated R ossini, including the m andatory audience p a rticip atio n ditty ta u g h t to the children when m usic m aster Basilio steps m om entarily o u t of ch aracter. T he kids love it ju s t as m uch as they love Sid an d Professor Kobalt. P ortions of oth er pro p er operas could obviously be tre a te d the sam e way. In th eir own way, Sid a n d Kobalt are ju st fine; b u t if we are really trying to expose the young to o p era in the hope they will come to em brace it an d love it eventually, do they go a b o u t it the right way? THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

Elizabeth Riddell

Film

Living drama from the words on a page.

M elissa Jaffer (Vi) an d John W aters (R ab b it) in W eekend O f Shadows

The thing th a t strikes me im m ediately about W eekem d o f Shadows is its tr u th fulness. I t’s a h it below th e belt, the nearest thing to Wake in Fright th a t the A ustralian film industry has p ro d u ced . I d o n ’t m ean th a t the b a d news is neces sarily “ tru e r” th a n the good news, b u t th a t the co-producer an d director, T om Jeffrey has tak en the film script (by P eter Y eldham from H ugh A tk in so n ’s novel The Reckoning) an d got it right, w ithout fudging. O n the face of it th a t may sound m ore negative th a n positive, b u t it’s not so. By hewing to the line — no pauses for sentim entality or even en dorsem ent — he has actually created living d ra m a from the words on a page. H ugh A tkinson’s novel was set in NSW , in a tow n w ith a quarry, som ewhere around, I suppose, the foothills of the Blue M ountains. Jeffrey moved the locality to M acclesfield in South A ustralia, possibly because the SA Film C orporation was p u ttin g up some of the money, w ith th eir M att C arroll as co-producer (with Sue M illiken). M acclesfield an d environs is simply perfect, non-picturesque; the period props are sparse a n d nostalgia never gets a look-in. The story is about two people u n a c c e p t able to a sm all com m unity: a Polish 46

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUN E 1978

im m igrant, illegal or otherwise (the tim e is betw een th e wars, w hen H itler sent a tidal wave of people from E urope to o u r shores) an d H arry B aker, nick n am ed R abbit, who isn ’t very b rig h t. T he Pole is alien by definition, R a b b it ditto because he isn’t one of th e boys an d has a history of defeats. F o r one thing, w hen Vi, a cheerful, prom iscuous girl, who in those days an d th a t place was probably know n as the “ tow n b ik e ” , becam e p reg n an t lots were draw n as to w hich of h er m any p atro n s would m arry h er to gjve the child a nam e, an d R a b b it drew th e short straw . They m arried , the child was born, an d the sm all fam ily drew together protectively against the rest of the world. O ne sunny spring S aturday the tow n’s only industry, th e brickw orks, closes at noon an d the m en d e p a rt for the p ub, except R ab b it, who goes hom e to Vi an d the boy. In a few m om ents the place is alive w ith savage ru m o u r: a youth looking for m ushroom s n ear a house on the edge of the town h as found Daisy T aylor lying on the b a rn floor, ch opped into a h u n k of red flesh by som eone wielding a cleaver. The police decide D aisy was done to death by the Pole who lived in the b a rn an d helped with th e chores in exchange for a roof over his head. He is missing. A search, vigilante style, is organised.

The sergeant invites the m en to p u t their nam es down to go on the h u n t, an d all do, except R ab b it. L ater Vi, whose life is m ade difficult because of R a b b it’s “ o th erness” , p ersuades him to do th e sam e. She w ants to walk down the street in the knowledge th a t h er R a b b it is a m an am ong m en. Led by th e sergeant, the m en — N olan, Bernie Collins, Bosun, B adger, Ryan etc — tak e to the su rro u n d in g hills. Also R ab b it, whose n earest ap proxim ation to a friend is N olan, who is his neighbor. They stay o u t in th e country, grousing, boozing, fantasising a b o u t w hat they will do to the Pole w hen they get him . Ryan recalls th a t the Pole once m ade an ill-advised a p p e a r ance a t th e local hop a n d asked R yan’s wife to d ance while Ryan was sinking beer a t the b a c k of the hall, he received for this courtesy a terrib le b eating-up, boot-in and all, an d Ryan plans to rep eat the p u n ish m en t. O nly R ab b it a n d th e school teacher, who is along m ore because he is a strin g er for the n earest new spaper th an due to any relish for the search — suggest th a t p e rh a p s the Pole d id n ’t kill M rs Taylor. T he m en sta rte d by enjoying the h u n t, b u t it tu rn s sour when the d rin k runs out an d th e sergeant bullies them . The sergeant also sta rte d ou t by enjoying it, as a m eans to p rom otion, b u t he also begins

John W aters as H arry “ R a b b it” B aker. to wilt. It goes b a d for the women, too. Vi is d istrau g h t w ith worry; the serg ean t’s wife, who saw the operation as a way ou t from country exile, hides beh in d h er lace curtains as the women come knocking at h er door to find o u t w hat has h a p p en ed to

w 67 2418

th eir m en who were to be gone for only a few hours. T he little town is w ounded, a self-inflicted w ound. A uthority in th e form of a su p erin ten d e n t is annoyed because it h a sn ’t been alerted. A th re a d of despair stretches betw een th e m en in the hills an d the w om en in th e town.

EBBERS

W e have seen some gim m icky casting in recent film s, b u t here the p ro d u cers/ director have been honest as well as, in some cases, positively inspired. T he ch aracter of R ab b it, based on the possibly false prem ise th a t those who lack push, or p erh ap s all th e ir m arbles, are mysteriously “ in tu n e ” w ith n atu re, is played by John W aters. He exp an d s this prem ise accept ably, acquiring confidence a n d grace to m atch his know ledge of the bush. M elissa Jaffer, an actress who has often seem ed u n sym pathetic to h er roles, u n d e r stands this one perfectly. W yn R oberts, an actor good at p aran o ia, plays the sergeant who was exiled from the city w hen he shot two youths dead in a m om ent of over excitem ent w ithout actually being sure they h a d com m itted a crim e. His out-w ardly p lian t, inw ardly rigid wife H elen is played by B arb ara W est w ith the right precision. A m ong the rest of the cast G rah am Rouse stan d s out as N olan, an am iable oick; Bill H u n te r as Bosun, trigger happy, a dangerous stirrer; Kit T aylor as R yan; Les F o x c ro ft.a s B adger the craw ler; G raem e B lundell as a k ind of parody of a sheepdog, nipping any passing heel. It is h a rd to say w hat A ustralian audiences, or in fact any audiences, will m ake of this. T here is a shock ending, b u t the them e can hardly be called anything b u t dow nbeat, an d one rem em bers the local resistance to Wake in Fright. It can be assum ed th a t people like to see them selves as nice, an d in W eekend o f Shadows not m any of them are nice. The film is beautifully p h o to g rap hed by R ichard W allace. A nother plus is C harles M araw ood’s evocative music.

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MARLENE : The Life of Marlene Dietrich

THE PLEASURE-DOME

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by Graham Greene The Collected Criticism of Film (1935-40)

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Graham Greene was a critic who relished the cinema for itself, at its most popular, its most shamelessly nonsensical. He can appreciate the finer points of Shirley Temple, or recognize in early Bette Davis “ a kind of corrupt and phosphorescent prettiness” ; a gift of phrase, the vivid sense of occasion, the sometimes quirky likes and dislikes are constantly in evidence. $9.70

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In this, the first account of Dame Sybil’s long career to be published since her death in 1976, the drama critic and biographer Sheridan Morley looks back through her letters, reviews and interviews, and his own transcripts of talks with her, to compile a chronicle of one of the longest and most remarkable of all theatrical lives. $14.95

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THE PERFORMING ARTS BOOKSHOP 232 Castlereagh Street, Sydney. 2000. Telephone: Patrick Carr [02] 233 1658

Books

John McCallum

Defining the drama of the seventies.

T he C lu b — David Williamson.

Distributed

Australia

Cambridge

University Press. Price: $3.50

C urrency Press has come a long way in the last six years. From the first, uninspiring series of volumes, sold by subscription to enthusiast and academ ics, they have grown to becom e A u stralia s m ajor d ra m a publishers, leaving their rivals (O utback Press, E dw ard A rnold, H einem ann and Q U P) far in the b a c k ground. W ith the early series there was a feeling of scraping arou n d for plays to justify the enterprise. The new b a tc h of plays show how C urrency an d A ustralian playw riting, have progressed. Currency now has forty two titles. They have begun a series of New Z ealand plays in association with Price M etb u rn , called T asm an Plays. T he d istribute Theatre Quarterly plays here (while TQ distribute C urrency plays in the U nited K ingdom). A nd they have b ran ch ed out into general publishing, on a sm all scale, w ith a volum e of cartoons by A u stralia’s w ittiest cartoonist, P atrick Cook.

It is fitting, a n d nice for Currency, th a t they should now a d d to th eir list Sum m er o f the Seventeenth Doll, w ith th e prom ise of the com plete Doll trilogy later this year. The Doll is alm ost too m uch of a “ classic” (one feels it should be in C urrency’s N ational T h eatre series) an d it is only in the last few years th a t it has stopped loom ing over us, a b a d exam ple for th eatre m anagem ents an d playw rights alike. Now we can look b ack an d see it for w hat it was — not th e beginning of a new sta rt for A ustralian dram a, b u t the end of an era, b ringing th e b u sh legend into the city an d laying it firmly to rest. If it did not also lay to rest th e bogey, by now notorious, of A u stralia’s N aturalism , then th a t is hardly Lawler’s fault. T he C urrency edition contains an interesting in troduction by K atherine B risbane a n d a great deal of useful m aterial from the original prod u ctio n — reviews a n d photographs. I can n o t agree entirely w ith M s B risbane’s reading of the play. She argues th a t seeing the Doll as p a rt of the trilogy changes slightly o n e’s ap p ro ach to it, b u t it is still possible to see it as a celebration of Olive’s dream ra th e r th a n a revelation of her childlikeness. T here is an im m ense accum ulated loss by the end, b u t th a t merely intensifies th e play’s trib u te to h er idealism . H er rejection of R oo’s p roposal th u s becom es, as A nne Sum m ers argues, th e only p ro p er w omanly response, after seventeen years of selfsacrifice, a n d n o t a childish refusal to bow down to th e gloomy realities of life. The Club is an o th er sign of the stability of A u stralia’s play w riting an d of C urrency Press. D avid W illiam son’s plays keep com ing out, an d each belies the criticism th a t he is becom ing too established, or too com m ercial, or too p opular. His h um our, his insight a n d his craftsm anship speak for them selves so strongly in th e th eatre th a t there is little which can be said of the book. It is good th a t we have lost o u r selfconsciousness a b o u t A u stralian plays to an extent w here a play is published simply so th a t people who enjoyed the show can find th eir favourite bits again. T his is n o t th e case with P eter K enna. K enna h as c rep t up on us ra th e r an d the p ublication of these three plays gives us an o pportunity to try a n d see how. W ith A Hard God an d now w ith The Cassidy Album , b u ilt up from A Hard God, he has found an established place in theatres, b u t on the whole he h as never been a p o p u lar or an o ften-produced w riter. T he three plays in this volum e have all h ad sm all p roductions b u t they have h a d little im pact in the th e a tre generally. Fittingly,

then, they are published in an expensive hard-cover, w hich serious stu d ents of dram a who wish to see some of K en n a’s earlier work, will w ant to buy. T his is a pity in a way, for K enna is an im p o rtan t w riter whose p a rtic u la r exploration of fam ily life should be interesting to everyone. H e has a nice feeling of detached involvement, as if everyday life were an exercise to which his ch aracters (and he an d his audience) are passionately com m itted, b u t which is a mere surface represen tatio n of a deeper reality lu rk in g ben eath . T his is presently the world of his “ h a rd god” in w hich people “ have to stum ble on blindly with his mercy rain in g down on us like th u n d e rb o lts” . T he first T asm an Play is M others and Fathers by Joseph M usaphia. It am azes me th a t anyone would w ant to see or produce, let alone read or publish, this b an al an d offensive piece of ru b b ish, and yet in the th eatre it has been highly successful. It is ap parently the biggest hit in New Z ealand th eatre history. T his is the rem oteness from the real world of people who write in m agazines revealed. I cannot bring myself to outline the “ im probable b u t h u m an story” w hich this play presents, b u t to be fair it is fu n n ier to read th a n you would ever guess from Bill R ed m ond’s production at th e O ldT ote last year. Surely the im plied attack s on directors in the a u th o r’s preface are directed a t the Tote production. T he play may perform a lot b etter th a n I im agine, given M u sap h ia’s treatm en t. T he latest in th e series of C urrency D ouble Bills is a volum e of two one-act plays, by M ary G age an d Jill Shearer, b oth concerning th e problem s facing people who move into a new environm ent. N either is particularly adventurous b u t b o th deal effectively w ith th e alienation a n d disloca tion of living am ong strangers. M ary G age’s play, p articularly, encapsulates the whole dilem m a facing h er heroine, in a neat an d finally moving th eatrical idea. C urrency Press is in a position of great responsibility in A ustralian d ram a. H aving a virtual m onopoly they control which plays will com e to general atten tion and which will fade into obscurity after their productions have ended. In years to come dram a of the ’70’s will be m ore or less defined by the plays C urrency publishes, ju st as d ra m a of th e late ’50’s is defined now by the h an d fu l of slum plays which were pu b lish ed then. The general range of th eir titles is im pressive (even if the series of one-acters looks a little conservative). It is to be h oped th a t C urrency continues to live up to th e ir responsibility. THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

THEATRE OPERA DANCE

A .C .T . THE BARD’S THEATRE RESTAURANT (47-6244) Blue Hat Productions

Command Performance in honour of the visit of H M Edward VII on the occasion of the Federation of the Commonwealth of Australia. Devised and directed by Gordon Todd, with Monsieur Frederick. Thursdays to Saturdays. Continuing. CANBERRA OPERA (47-0249) Opera in the Schools The Puppet Master by Tchaikowsky. Producer, Nina Cooke; Designer, Ron Butters. Touring ACT schools until July. CANBERRA THEATRE (49-7600) London Theatre Company. East by Steve Berkoff. Director, Steve Berkoff. 29 May — 2 June. The Australian Ballet.

Swan Lake. 7,10,12,13 May. CHILDERS STREET HALL (49-4787) Grapevine Productions. Witold Gombrowicz in Buenos Aires by Roger Pulvers. Directed by Adrian Guthrie. On tour from Newcastle. 14 — 24 June. JIGSAW COMPANY (47-0781) In repertory: Act Now, a documentary for adults, on self-government in the ACT; Crumpet and Co., a participation play for children; The Empty House, a participation play for preschools; Prometheus, a participation play for primary schools. Various locations. PLAYHOUSE (49-7600) Canberra Philharmonic Society. The Sound o f Music 29 June — 1 July. THEATRE 3 (47-4222) The Department by David Williamson. Director, Anne Godfrey-Smith. 7 June — 1 July. TIVOLI THEATRE RESTAURANT (49-1411) Canberra Professional Group Vaudeville Capers, devised by Tikki Taylor and John Newman. Director, Jim Hutchins. Fridays and Saturdays. Continuing.

N EW S O U TH W A LE S ACTOR’S COMPANY (660-2503) Romeo and Juliet, by William Shakespeare, directed by Steve Agnew, with Kate Ferguson and Dallas Lewis. To June 10. The Glass Menagerie, by Tennessee Williams, 50

THEATRE AUSTRALIA JUNE 1978

directed by Rodney Delaney, with Betty Cheal and Di O’Connor. From June 19. ARTS COUNCIL OF NEW SOUTH WALES (31-6611) The Grand Adventure, a musical comedy marionette show created and directed by Phillip Edmiston. New South Wales country tour from June 12. Moose Malone, a country rock group. New South Wales country tour from June 19. Sleuth, by Anthony Shaffer, with Sydney Conabere and Shane Porteous. New South Wales country tour from June 8. Schools Tour: Stax o f Sax, Contemporary Saxaphone Quartet with Colin Smith, Sydney metropolitan area. Wane Roland Brown, multi instrumentalist. Sydney metropolitan, South Coast and Riverina areas. Bob Sillman — ventriloquist, puppeteer and magician. Riverina and Sydney metropolitan areas. Alex Hood — guitarist and singer. Hunter Valley and North Coast areas. Koalaroo and Major Mangrove by Tony Wright. Sydney metropolitan area. AUSTRALIAN OPERA (26-2976)

Madama Butterfly, by Puccini (in Italian). June 14,17, 20,23,28.

Marriage o f Figaro by Mozart (in English). June 24, 29. AUSTRALIAN THEATRE FOR YOUNG PEOPLE (699-9322) Kaspajack by Richard Tullocb, directed by Des Davis — for infant schools. The Fabulous Cappucinos by Richard Tulloch, directed by Jane Westbrook. Running A way by Michael Cove, directed by Raymond Omodei.

The Actor at Work in Othello and Romeo and Juliet. Directed by Raymond Omodei. North West Arts Tour ’78. ENSEMBLE THEATRE (929-8877)

Spokesong by Stewart Parker, directed by Don Reid. From June 1. FRANK STRAIN’S BULL ’N BUSH THEATRE RESTAURANT (31-4627) Magic o f Yesterday with Noel Brophy, Keith Bowell, Julie Fullerton, Neil Bryant and Alan Norman, directed by Frank Strain, choreo graphed by George Carden. GENESIAN THEATRE (827-3023) Royal Hunt o f the Sun, by Peter Shaffer, directed by Tony Hayes. To June 24. HER MAJESTY’S (212-3411) Barry Humphries in Isn't It Pathetic at His Age. June. MARIAN STREET (498-3166) What Every Woman Knows by James Barrie,

directed by Alastair Duncan. From June 9. MARIONETTE THEATRE OF AUSTRALIA (357-1638) Whacko the Diddle-O, directed by Richard Bradshaw and Steve Hansen. Three week Sydney western suburbs tour. MUSIC HALL THEATRE RESTAURANT (909-8222) Crushed by Desire written and directed by Michael Boddy. Continuing. MUSIC LOFT THEATRE (977-6585)

Encore, a musical revue starring the Toppano family and Lee Young. NEW THEATRE (519-3403)

The Radio Active Horror Show, by John Romeril and the APG, directed by Paul Quinn with musical director, John Short and designer, Rob Eadie. To mid-June. Friday the Thirteenth, by Kevin Morgan, directed by John Armstrong. From late June. NIMROD THEATRE (699-5003) Upstairs: Comedy o f Errors by William Shakespeare, directed by John Bell. To June 18. Henry IV by William Shakespeare, directed by Richard Wherrett, with John Bell, Frank Wilson and Alexander Hay. From June 24. No. 86 THEATRE RESTAURANT

A l Capone’s Birthday Party by Pat Garvey, directed and produced by Pat Garvey, choreo graphy by Keith Little, sets by Doug Anderson, costumes by Ray Wilson. Continuing. OLD TOTE (663-6122) Drama Theatre: The Misanthrope, by Moliere, directed by Ted Craig, with Kate Fitzpatrick, Trevor Kent, Judi Farr, Barry Otto, Graham Ratcliffe, Russell Kieffel, Ron Ratcliff. To June 6. Parade Theatre: Da, by Hugh Leonard, directed by Peter Collingwood. with Maggie Kirkpatrick, Max Meldrum, Alan Tobin, Tom Farley, Tom Burlinson, Des Rolphe, Jessica Noad, Claire Crowther. To July 11. PARIS THEATRE (61-9194) The Paris Company in Pandora’s Cross, by Dorothy Hewitt, with composer, Ralph Tyrell, and lighting designer, David Read. From June 15. OSCARS HOLLYWOOD PALACE THEATRE RESTAURANT, Sans Souci. (529-4455) Fasten Your Seat Belts by Don Battye and Peter Pinne. Director, Jon Ewing. Continuing. Q THEATRE, Penrith (047- 21 -5735) Ghosts by Henrik Ibsen, directed by Kevin Jackson. Penrith June 7-25, Bankstown June 28July 2.

SEYMOUR CENTRE (692 0555) York Theatre: Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare, directed by Graham Corry with the Players Theatre Company. From June 10. SYDNEY OPERA HOUSE (20588) Opera Theatre: Australian Ballet: Programme Three: Afternoon of a Faun, Mam'zelle Angot, New work by Graeme Murphy. Australian Opera: Madam Butterfly by Puccini, with Leona Mitchell. From June 14. Marriage o f Figaro by Mozart with Glenys Fowles. From June 24. Exhibition Hall: Canadian Contemporary

Painters. THEATRE ROYAL (231 6111) Dusa, Fish, Stas & Vi, by Pam Gems, with Nancye Hayes, Carol Burns, Pat Bishop and Vivienne Garrett. To June 24. WHITE HORSE HOTEL, Newtown (51-1302) Done to Death, by Peter Stephens, directed by Foveaux Kirby, with Peter Fisher, Grant Dodwell, Julie Kirby, Emma Gray. Graeme Richards, May Howlett, Sian Pugh. Terry Mahboub, choreographer. Ian Tasker, Cathy Smith, Peter Glencross, designers. Throughout June.

Q U E E N S LA N D ARTS THEATRE (36-2344) Wait Until Dark by Fred Knott (Mystery Thriller). Director, Margaret Brown. May 25 to June 26. Nude with Violin by Noel Coward. Director, Marion Gould. June 29 - July 29. LA BOITE (36-1622) City Sugar by Stephen Poliakoff. Director, Jennifer Blocksidge; Designer, Graeme Johnston; with Craig Cronin as Lenny Brazil. May 25 to June 17. The Good Person of Setzuan by Bertolt Brecht, translated by John Willett. Director, Fred Wessely. June 23 to July 15. HER MAJESTY'S (221-2777)

Thoughts o f Chairman A If with Warren Mitchell as Alf Garnet. In association with the Queensland Theatre Co. Commencing June 12th. QUEENSLAND THEATRE COMPANY (221-3861)

King Lear by William Shakespeare. Director, Alan Edwards; designer, Peter Cook; with Warren Mitchell as King Lear, Ben Gabrielle, Gordon Glenwright, Russel Newman and Geoff Rush.

Director, Bryan Nason; designer, Fiona Reilly; music by Ralph Tyrrel; choreography by Keith Bain; with Candy Raymond, Brian Blain, Michael McCaffery, Mark Hembrow. Continuing. TWELFTH NIGHT THEATRE (52-5888) The Puppet People with Spring (Puppetry) Gwen and Peter Iliffe. Commencing June 24.

S O U TH A U S T R A L IA ADELAIDE DANCE THEATRE (212-2084) Playhouse: Series of new works June 19 -July 1. ADELAIDE REPERTORY THEATRE (87-5777) 53 Angas Street The Constant Wife by Somerset Maugham; director, Phyllis Page. June 10-17. ADELAIDE THEATRE GROUP (267-3751) Sheridan Theatre, 50 McKinnon Pde. A Winter's Tale by Shakespeare; director, Brian Debnam. Tues. to Sats. June 1-24. QTHEATRE (223-5651) 89 Halifax Street. Present Laughter by Noel Coward; director. Bill O'Day. May 20 - June 17. SOUTH AUSTRALIAN THEATRE COMPANY (51-5151) Playhouse; Marx by Ron Blair; director, Colin George; designer, Axel Bartz. June 1-17. STATE OPERA OF SOUTH AUSTRALIA (51-6161) La Traviata by Verdi (in English). June 28 July 8.

V IC T O R IA *1 4 3 2 ARENA CHILDREN’S THEATRE (24-9667) Plays-in-Performance; Lower primary,Storytheatre. Primary, Legends Alive. Touring metropolitan and country schools. CAT-CALL: Tutorship scheme for schools (pupils and staff). BOW-TIE: Theatre-in-Education programme 1. Whizzy the Wizard, prep to grade 2 2. Crew Four Fruit Cake, grades 2-6 3. Truck-a-luck, grades 5-6 4. Shake, Rattle and Roll, ages 10-14. SCAT: Suitcase Activity Theatre, one actor/teacher drama experiences. Saturday Matinees: Every Sat. for all ages (door sales). The History o f the Movies. June 15, 16, 17 (evenings). Play devised and performed by children.

June 21.

AUSTRALIAN PERFORMING GROUP (347-7153) Front Theatre: Troilas and Cressida, directed by Peter King. June 5 - June 24.

RIALTO THEATRE G & M Promotions by arrangement with Harry M Miller and by special arrangement with Michael White Ltd. The Rocky Horror Show.

FOIBLES THEATRE RESTAURANT (347-2397) Whimsy. Original comedy entertainment. With Rod Quantock, Mary Kenneally, Geoff Brooks,

Point o f Departure by Jean Anouilh. Director, Joe MacColum; designer, Fiona Reilly; with Alan Wilson and Gaye Poole. Commencing

Stephen Blackburn and Neville Stern. Wed. to Sat. New Acts Mon. nights. FLYING TRAPEZE CAFE (41 -3727)

Beyond the Lamington. To June 3. The Slim Whittle Show, featuring

the

Tamworth Hot Shots. From June 6. HOOPLA PRODUCTIONS (63-7643) Playbox Theatre: Let Me In by Ted Neilsen; director, Graeme Blundell; featuring Jillian Archer, Peter Cummins, Michael Duffield, Anne Phelan, Mamie Randall. Continuing. Upstairs; Innocent Bystanders, by Gordon Graham. To June 17. The Everest Hotel, by Shoo Wilson. From June 22 . Thursdays to Saturdays, 11.00 p.m. Fridays, 6.00 p.m. J C WILLIAMSON THEATRES Her Majesty’s Theatre: A Chorus Line. Continuing. Comedy Theatre: Love They Neighbour, with Jack Smethurst and Nina Baden-Semper. To July 22. LAST LAUGH THEATRE RESTAURANT (419-6226) New show opening June 5 to be announced. LA MAMA (350-4593)

Loin of Poet by Ian Nash. Directed by Karen Scott-Watson. June 1-18. Thurs. - Sun. 8.30 p.m. A new play by Graham Parker June 22 July 9. MELBOURNE THEATRE COMPANY (654-4000) Russell Street Theatre: Departmental by Mervyn Rutherford. Directed by Bruce Myles. To July 8. Atheneum Theatre: The Beaux' Stratagem, by George Farquhar. Directed by Frank Hauser. To June 10. Electro by Sophocles. Hauser. From June 13.

Directed by

Frank

NATIONAL THEATRE (94-0221) Whitehorse Musical Theatre production: LIT Abner. June 1-13. PILGRIM PUPPET THEATRE (818 6650)

Alice In Wonderland, adapted by Burt Cooper; director, Robert Akins. PRINCESS THEATRE (662-2911) The Victorian State Opera Company Idomeneo, by Mozart. June 23, 24, 27, 29, July 1. TIKKI & JOHN’S THEATRE LOUNGE (663-1754) Old Time Music Hall: John & Tikki Newman, Myrtle Roberts, Vic Gordon. Tues. - Sat. Vaudeville Theatre: Terry Norris, Brian Hannan, Berrie Cameron-Alien, Alan Easter. Tues. - Sat. VICTORIAN STATE OPERA (4! 5061) Schools programme, touring. Idomeneo at Princess (see above). Major Amateur Companies: Please contact these theatres for details of current productions. THEATRE AUSI RALIAJENE 1078

GOVERNOR’S PLEASURE THEATRE GROUP (C/o Box 226, P.O. St. Kilda West, 3182). HEIDELBERG REPERTORY (49-2262) MALVERN THEATRE COMPANY (211-0020) PUMPKIN THEATRE, Richmond (42-8237) 1812 THEATRE, Ferntree Gully (796-8624)

Australia^magazine of (he performing arts

Theatre Australia

W E S TE R N A U S T R A L IA CIVIC THEATRE RESTAURANT (272-1595) Laughter Unlimited, director, Brian Smith.

‘The elusive good night out can be found here!’ ... says Peter Smark’s Eating Out In Melbourne 1978

HAYMAN THEATRE, WAIT (350-7026)

Dear Octopus. Director, Tony Nicholls. June 1 July 1. HOLE IN THE WALL (381-2403) Waitingfor Godot by Samuel Beckett. Director, Mike Morris. June 1-28. Hole in the Pocket workshop production: Moby Dick Rehearsed by Orson Welles. Director, Damien Jamieson. June 28 - July 1. NATIONAL THEATRE (352-3500) Playhouse: A Streetcar Named Desire by Tenessee Williams. Director, Stephen Barry. May 31 June 24. A Happy and Holy Occasion by John O’Donoghue. June 28 - July 22. Greenroom: Miss Julie by August Strindberg. From May and continuing.

Shakespeare on the Australian stage

REGAL THEATRE (381-1557) Big Bad Mouse. Director, Paul Elliot; with Eric Sykes and Jimmy Edwards. June 7-28.

Love

WEST AUSTRALIAN BALLET COMPANY Not playing during June.

Reviews: Opera, Theatre, Ballet, Film, and lots more.

New show opening Thursday June 8th

N ext M onth Paris Theatre Company

Playscript: Peter Kenna’s Furtive

PRODUCERS & DIRECTORS

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A night of Lot harmonies and humour with

T he C ra c k e rs Directed by John O’May

S U B S C R IP TIO N RATES ATTENTION ALL

Makin1Wicky Wacky

S u rfa c e m a ll By a ir

A$25.00

Choreographed by Karen Johnson

Starring: Yasmin Shoobridge Ruth Schoenheimer Patricia L'nane Peter Crichton David Evans Marsh Robinson

BOOK NOW 419.6226,419.6225 Fully Licenced 64 Smith St., Collingwood

New Zealand, New Guinea AS45.00 U.K., U.S.A., Germany, Greece, Italy A$50.00 All other countries AS70.00

922-4494

THEATRE A L S T R A U A J l NE 1478

Bank drafts in Australian currency should be forwarded to Theatre Publications Ltd., 80 Elizabeth Street, Mayfield, N.S.W. 2304, Australia.

We are always interested in new acts and scripts... contact fo r circus to cabaret!!