Go see it while you can: Australian Ballet’s triple bill packs a punch

DANCE
Prism
Sydney Opera House
November 7 to 15
Reviewed by CHANTAL NGUYEN
★★★★½

This spring has been a great season for dance triple bills. Following last month’s outstanding Continuum by Sydney Dance Company, the Australian Ballet now packs a punch with Prism.

Prism kicks off with Jerome Robbins’ 1980s classic, Glass Pieces. Choreographed in 1983 for New York City Ballet, it conjures (reportedly to Robbins’ surprise) the bustle of New York City in that era. There’s Phillip Glass’s looping score, candy-coloured fitness fashion, geometric lines reaching upwards like skyscrapers, and dancers hurrying across the stage in a perpetual stream of human movement, like pedestrians pouring along traffic-stopping crosswalks.

NYCB itself performed Glass Pieces again in just April this year. While the AB corps lacked NYCB’s attention to detail and the sharp-edged synchronicity necessary to finesse Robbins’ choreography, the AB did bring an upbeat freshness and winning enjoyment not as obvious in the NYCB production. AB lead couple Davi Ramos and Robyn Hendricks, with her gorgeous long lines, were outstanding.

Next was Stephanie Lake’s charming Seven Days. It couldn’t be more different from the bloated banal abomination that marked her first piece as AB Resident Choreographer, Circle Electric. This time, Lake’s choreography creates an inventive vignette for a stripped-back cast of seven dancers, set to Peter Brikmani’s reimagining of J. S. Bach’s Goldberg Variations. Beautifully executed by musicians and dancers alike, it seems to be in the vein of that particular strand of European contemporary dance (like, for example, Jiří Kylián’s famous Six Dances) that is cheeky, theatrical, and pokes fun at societal mannerisms.

The final piece will take your breath away and is the undoubted highlight of the evening: William Forsythe’s Blake Works V (The Barre Project), choreographed during the COVID-19 pandemic in tribute to the scores of professional dancers maintaining their athleticism with stay-at-home ballet barre exercises.

Like much of Forsythe’s genius choreography, Blake Works V pushes classical ballet to its limits in a vision of movement that seems to suspend and fast-forward time, turning the dancers into blurs as they push their bodies into improbable spins, locks, and virtuosic balances. The sharpness of movement slightly lacking in Glass Pieces was now on full display, demonstrating brilliant technique from all dancers involved.

Forsythe’s choreography is so stunning it generates its own irresistible kinetic energy - both dancers and audience usually buzz at the end of a Forsythe piece. His choreography is not often performed in Australia. Go see it while you can.

MUSIC
Meg Washington
City Recital Hall, November 7
Reviewed by JAMES JENNINGS
★★★★

With a huge segment of Sydney’s gig-goers flocking to the first mega-hyped local reunion show of Britpop behemoths Oasis, you have to feel a bit sorry for any artist putting on a gig at the same time. It’s something singer-songwriter Meg Washington addresses head on: “I’d like to thank you for choosing to see me over Oasis,” she says to laughter from the crowd. “I want to hug and kiss each one of you.”

Washington needn’t worry about the Gallagher brothers pilfering her audience. Whereas their brand of meat ‘n’ potatoes rock ‘n’ roll is loud and boisterous, the Brisbane-based artist’s music is the opposite - introspective, delicate and nuanced.

Those qualities are all present on recent album GEM (“Meg backwards,” she tells us, as it’s a collection about “self-reflection” - geddit?), which she plays almost in full. But whereas the studio recordings can wash over the listener like gentle waves, tonight the tracks are delivered with a more immediate punch by virtue of being played live with a six-piece band.

Washington’s songs have a preoccupation with far-off places, whether real or imagined. Shangri-La channels the south-of-the-border alternative country of Texans Calexico, while the pretty Honeysuckle Island conjures an alluring locale with “a strawberry sky of diamonds”.

A lyrical focus on nature culminates in Natural Beauty, a gorgeous song played solo on keys by Washington, who tells us it’s “the heart of the album”, the track tackling themes of naturalism versus capitalism (“I never thought I’d sing about superannuation,” she jokes).

Support act Brendan Maclean makes cameos on two highlights from GEM, providing a spoken word sermon on Golden Orb Blues, and filling in for Paul Kelly on the arresting duet Fine (played after Washington stages an “interrogation of the social construct of the encore” by humorously facing the back of the stage for a moment rather than walking off).

Predictably, there’s a dip into the past to play fan favourites - Clementine, the first song Washington wrote; How to Tame Lions; and Lazarus Drug, a song featured on kids’ show Bluey, in which Washington voices a character. Regardless, the show acts more as a compelling argument for the strength of Washington’s new material, as well as a showcase for how much of a funny and engaging performer Washington is - even without a Union Jack, parka or bucket hat in sight.

MUSICAL THEATRE
THE LOVERS
Theatre Royal, November 5
Until November 16
Reviewed by JOHN SHAND
★★½

What a shame. Given A Midsummer Night’s Dream was Shakespeare’s first masterwork, you’d think that even when bastardised into pop musical, it had half a chance of being better than this. At the very least you might expect it to improve upon Bell Shakespeare’s premiere production of The Lovers three years ago.

Wrong on both counts.

It’s not that Laura Murphy’s musical is without merit (including using Shakespeare’s dialogue), but this revamped Shake & Stir production dilutes those strengths. As I said three years ago, the decision to expunge Titania and Bottom leaves only Oberon and perhaps Puck of Dream’s most enthralling characters because three of the four lovers are surely among the play’s dullest, Helena being the exception.

Murphy, alas, has used the same cookie-cutter on Helena as the other three. Worse, there’s no delineation of character in the songs they sing, which are wretchedly samey, with their confection of pop choruses, heavy-metal power chords, screeching climaxes and some rapping to show they’re hip.

While the diaphanous glories of Oberon’s verse lie in some gutter, Murphy still gives us an Oberon of interest, played by Stellar Perry, who stole the show in the same role for Bell Shakespeare. In director Nick Skubij’s version, she’s been reduced to a sexy cowgirl trope, but at least Perry gives Oberon presence and a voice.

The rest struggle to find definable characters. Jason Arrow must have come down to earth with a thump going from playing Hamilton to playing Murphy’s Demetrius. (To go from Hamilton to Shakespeare’s Demetrius would still be a let-down!) Loren Hunter reprises her Bell Shakespeare role of Hermia, to no advantage. She’s joined by Mat Verevis as Lysander and Jayme-Lee Hanekom as Puck, the latter’s characterisation having no discernible puckishness.

The sound-mix made the lyrics unintelligible whenever the band (under Heidi Maguire) stamped on the loud pedal, which was often. When you could hear them, the characters expressed their baldest feelings, with no trace of self-deception, irony or nuance. Even the Sex Pistols had a stab at irony.

Compounding the problem, there are 33 songs. Whatever happened to the days when musicals were rigorously workshopped? Surely, someone could have pointed out that with these songs the story grinds to a halt each time anyone sings, and that a dozen might reasonably be cut, allowing the odd extra glimpse of Shakespeare’s glistening verse.

A well-performed Dream – which is too rare – is all lightness and air, as well as being hilarious. Murphy is reduced to relying on f-bombs for laughs. When Marcel Duchamp put a moustache on a reproduction of the Mona Lisa a century ago, there was wit in the vandalism. Skubij’s production wallows in a vulgarity of conception, music and design. Sometimes one wondered exactly what would be happening without the dry ice and the cascading glitter. Teens, perhaps, might lap it up.

MUSIC
Twice
Qudos Bank Arena, November 1
Reviewed by MICHAEL RUFFLES
★★★

How many K-pop stars does it take to change the globe? The honchos at JYP Entertainment clearly thought more was merrier when they unleashed the nine-member girl band Twice on the world 10 years ago.

Sydney hosted eight of them on Saturday, plus the band and dozens of dancers, as the juggernaut landed for two-plus hours of family-friendly pop positivity on an industrial scale.

Rapper Chaeyoung was out injured (“she’s been benched,” the family’s biggest Blackpink fan quipped), while singer Sana spent the first two acts seated as the mothership carried on emitting lasers and loud noises around her.

The remainder had more than enough energy and sweetness, and the gaps in the staging and choreography designed for nine were never too glaring.

There were anthems of empowerment (I Can’t Stop Me an early barnstorming highlight, Options a bit too cookie-cutter cutesy) and danceable ditties of love and affection (Moonlight Sunrise was a standout, closing the first act with aplomb).

It was all charmingly inoffensive, and at times so saccharine you worried about your blood sugar levels. Fortunately, the rock-tinged Gone brought a welcome bit of angst and guitars … within acceptable limits, of course.

The songs, like the choreography, are structured to give everyone about equal airtime, and the effect early on is a bit bamboozling. Where to look and who are we listening to?

Jihyo is tasked with being leader and main vocalist, and she brings Nicole Scherzinger-style swagger to the role.

But it is birthday girl Jeongyeon who emerges as MVP, her voice a warmer, richer counterpoint to others, and her charisma more natural. When she sings that she can fix you a drink rather than your heart in a country-pop toe-tapper, you believe her. It’s no Lucinda Williams but it could be a Miley Cyrus song.

Act three solves the “where to look” question with eight solos. Tzuyu gets a slower burn, Nayeon’s Meeeeee could give you a toothache, Dahyun translates Fur Elise for the dance floor because Beethoven wrote some bangers, and Momo does her best to emulate Lisa from Blackpink because you might as well borrow from the best.

The late highlight, honestly, was watching the fans on the dancecam while waiting for the encore. Their joy and enthusiasm were enough to slay cynical demons.

Twice themselves? Worth seeing, if only once.

Twice plays Qudos Bank Arena for a second show on Sunday before the This Is For tour heads to Melbourne on November 8 and 9.

THEATRE
Naturism
Griffin Theatre, October 30
Reviewed by CASSIE TONGUE
★★★

Australia is full of hidden wonders: shy eastern whipbirds, with whip-crack call and lilting response. The whispered secrets of wind rustling through leaves. And hidden communities of naturists – social nudists – living off the land.

That last one sounds like a stretch, but not in Naturism. This new work by Australian playwright Ang Collins, making its debut with Griffin Theatre, is an exploration of how we live with, harm and heal alongside the natural world. It’s also about Ray (Glenn Hazeldine), Sid (Nicholas Brown) and Helen (Hannah Waterman), three naturists living unclothed and connected to the Earth. They’re blissful.

Well, mostly. One of their number has buried secrets, and another is desperate to know what arthouse films are playing in the world they left behind.

When outsider Evangeline (Camila Ponte Alvarez), a Gen-Z eco-influencer, crashes the group and begs to join, she can’t answer that question. Her phone (cue the generational divide) has burned her attention span, and she has bigger problems, like her own buried secrets – and her profound anxiety about the climate crisis.

Collins, and director Declan Greene, know many in the audience are feeling that anxiety, too. The play is a comedy about that anxiety, exploring climate disasters, personal and community responsibility, and the possibilities of renewal, but it has a vulnerable heart. The pair protects it by wrapping it in gentle jabs at generational differences, middle-class conflicts and social trends – and Greene maintains a welcoming sense of warmth as the 80-minute play unfolds.

There’s also the nudity. For most of the play, the cast is naked (you’re asked to seal your phone in an envelope for the duration). Collins wisely opens the show with a few quick sight gags to let the audience get their nervous giggles out and relax into the play, but after that it becomes simply a costume or storytelling element: necessary, cohesive, unsensational.

It’s important the nude element of the play is frictionless but the play could benefit from more friction. Without sharper edges and more depth to its conflicts, pacing and narrative development it’s hard to feel connected to the characters. The character we do know the best – Waterman’s wonderful Helen, who has the greatest level of complexity in her relationships and current life situation – is outstanding; she makes you wish for more.

If we knew these naturists and surprise additional character (Fraser Morrison) better, the second half of the play – which ramps up the stakes and contains some of the staging’s most striking elements – would land with greater impact.

Because there is real potential for impact when the play really gets going. Set designer James Browne, composer and sound designer David Bergman, and lighting designer Verity Hampson bring a bushfire to urgent, unstoppable life, all violent crashing and crackling, colour and ash.

As we reckon with destruction, change and helplessness, Collins offers a small source of hope through our connections to nature, and to each other. These feelings are well worth sitting with, turning over and investigating.

MUSIC
Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition
Sydney Symphony Orchestra, Opera House Concert Hall, November 1
Reviewed by PETER McCALLUM
★★★★½

Most composers of the second half of the 19th century revered the monuments of Austro-German music. Its politics, not so much.

This concert explored music by European composers who, in their different ways, wanted to do something different, not simply to escape the sense that the greatest music had already been written but to assert political and cultural independence for their emerging national identity. The results were new forms of expression and organisation, and musical utterances that courted earthy folk-music, free of civilising refinement.

Janacek’s Sinfonietta (1926) is bookended by splendid fanfares for nine trumpets, two bass trumpets and two tenor trombones, striking for their raw, elemental sound, and pealing repetition without over-refined nuance. These have a festive, ritualistic quality and, for Janacek, also announced the advent of the Czech nation.

Conductor Simone Young placed the group in the gallery behind the orchestra, where they had a different relationship with the Opera House’s reflective sound panels above, giving the balance a free, open-air quality.

The second movement, representing the Castle, which Janacek had previously hated as a symbol of German oppression but came to love, is infused with flickering, nervous arpeggios (a textural device Janacek slightly overused) before more lyrical music. The second was haunted by melancholy until the strikingly original combinations of trombones, cut through by flutes that flash like summer lightning. The third found simplicity in a set of variations, which becomes increasingly bizarre as it leads back to a return of the trumpet choir.

By contrast, Dvorak had sought to express Czech identity through the Austro-German tradition rather than outside it. Kian Soltani played his Cello Concerto in B minor, Opus 104, with vivid intensity and engagement, spinning the expressive musical line with both heroic strength and tender sensitivity as though it were an Ariadne thread on which the whole world depended.

This was compelling playing of emotional power. His tone was strong, rich and pure, energised with a lush, at times passionate vibrato. The prolonged epilogue of the slow movement became a dream of reflective melancholy and the finale was driven and energised, interleaved with colourful playful interactions with soloists in the orchestra.

Familiar as it is, the final work, Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition orchestrated by Ravel, still contained moments of revelation. Over and above the splendour of the solo playing (particularly from trumpeter David Elton) the clarity of the Opera House’s acoustics kept throwing up forgotten or unnoticed details of Ravel’s orchestral genius to savour.

Young’s tempi were broad, and care with Mussorgsky’s subtle irregularities of nuance and phrase meant that when we reached the Great Gate of Kiev the music was monumental without becoming overexcited in the way Janacek had been at the start.

M.I.A.
Enmore Theatre, October 29

Reviewed by JAMES JENNINGS
★★★★

There’s cool, and then there’s being propped up on a stage barrier, biting the cap off a marker, spitting it out, signing a book and then casually lighting a smoke for a fan moments later – all while performing a song. It helps that the track, Galang, sounds as cutting-edge and genre-blending as it did upon release in 2004, a pre-streaming era where file-sharing sites made obscure music from all corners of the globe accessible to everyone.

Born in London to Sri Lankan Tamil parents, rapper, singer, producer, activist and former art school student Mathangi Arulpragasam – personally known as Maya, professionally known as M.I.A. – has made a career out of being far cooler than most, as well as making world music-influenced dance bangers that still sound unique decades later.

That fact is hammered home when M.I.A. opens with the first three tracks from high-watermark 2007 LP Kala, which draws upon everything from Bollywood samples to African folk. That run culminates with the world beat/dancehall mash-up Boyz, reminding us M.I.A.’s musical magpie tendencies have resulted in a sonic identity that’s often been copied but never bettered.

Flanked by long-haired dancers in tiger-print jumpsuits and columns shooting lasers, M.I.A. tears through a succession of rump-shaking crowd pleasers: the reggae-meets-EDM of Double Bubble Trouble; the krautrock-goes-nuclear Born Free; and the viral TikTok hit Bad Girls, which kicks the crowd excitement into overdrive.

No stranger to speaking her mind and courting controversy – she’s done everything from get sued by the NFL for flipping the bird while performing with Madonna at the Super Bowl to recently appearing on far-right commentator Alex Jones’ show – M.I.A. stays on brand by keeping the stage banter largely political. Julian Assange gets a shout-out, as do audience members who attended the recent pro-Palestine protests in Sydney.

It’s a nice touch to see her take a moment to talk about each of her albums before signing vinyl copies and throwing them into the crowd, but the best gift is saved until last with 2008’s eternal banger Paper Planes. Replete with iconic gunshot and cash register sound effects, it’s a track with the power to make you briefly feel as glacier cool as M.I.A. herself, an artist who has aged as well as her impressive catalogue of music.