Yes, I still breathe. For anyone who is following me, I am profoundly sorry.
Moving on: I spent the most part of my hiatus assignmenting, watching films, going to my first proper party in years, turning seventeen and making it out of the ominous seven non-consecutive hours of hellishness that is the QCS Tests. Alive, too!
I also did that blissfully indulgent thing that some theatre people do, where you love a play so much that you go and see it again.The play was shake&stir theatre company's stage adaptation of one of my aforementioned favourite books, 1984, performed at QPAC's Cremorne Theatre, where the slightly rawer, independent shows come out to play. Having already seen the company's adaptation prowess in Animal Farm last year and devoured the original novel, I was quick to book two tickets to see this latest production.
Truth be told, deciding to see it a second time wasn't as whimsical a situation as I'd have liked: I bought tickets to see it of my own accord, and then a week or so later my Drama class were handing in payment and permission forms to see it as a group. But still, having been in a state of severe withdrawal (sniffing the show program dementedly and tragically clicking through the production stills on shake&stir's Facebook page), I was incredibly keen to relive Orwell's fear-mongering tale of conformity and rebellion.
As I had been at Animal Farm, I was seated in the front row at the first viewing. The show's opening sequence--an unsettling soundscape of air raid sirens, detonating bombs and screaming children to heighten the mood necessary for the Orwellian concept that was the Two Minutes Hate--was an introduction whose energy was of a magnitude I had never before experienced at a live theatrical show. Since Animal Farm, I had actually worked with most of the actors in an after-school youth theatre workshop for a term, befriended them on Facebook, and generally formed an affinity of sorts with them. Seeing my kinda-sorta cronies clad in navy-blue overalls and 1930s haircuts and sitting poised for hurling abuse, I almost smiled, even though I was anticipating the dense wall of livid noise that would follow. The first thing I noticed when one of the cast members let forth a gruff yell of "BASTARD!", was that there was no trace of a British accent to be heard. Props to shake&stir (see what I did there?) for giving such an English tale an effortless Australian sensibility! The momentary portrayal of the proletariat community (i.e. the scum of this dystopian world) was deliciously ocker, just one of the many artistic decisions that proved to be wonderful little gems that only added to the overall experience that was this show.
Brisbane theatre veteran and occasional film cameo Bryan Probets portrayed Winston Smith, the humble, awkward rebel whose perspective served as the window to the story. His performance was more or less flawless, his control of voice tailored seamlessly to every emotion he performed. shake & stir Artistic Director Nelle Lee's portrayal of Winston's female counterpart, Julia, was wonderful: spirited, passionate and a little bit naughty. The apparent chemistry between the pair was gorgeous, it was clear that the oppression they were living beneath was immense, hence the intensity of their tactile pursuits during the handful of carefully orchestrated trysts they managed to snag, despite their continuously controlled lives. The fact that their like-mindedness and shared hatred of the Party trumped the age gap between them was also a facet to their relationship that the actors portrayed beautifully. The smattering of sexual intimacy in the show was executed tastefully, yet still refused to shy away from a certain degree of realism.
The scenes that saw Winston's brutal conversion therapy in the Ministry of Love proved to be the kind of live theatre that truly chills you. I shook in my seat, not entirely due to the ridiculous level of air conditioning in the room. The tension of mystery in terms of Probets' role was at its pinnacle. As his quietly sadistic oppressor O'Brien (played by Hugh Parker) asked him question after manipulative question, the answers given by Probets' character were always delivered with a dense air of apprehension, which made for a deliciously frightening experience. Naturally, this was pumped up ten-fold when Parker wrenched Probets from the gurney and forced him in front of an imaginary mirror... that was apparently situated at the very edge of the stage, smack-bang in front of me. If they were any closer, they would have kicked me. The sequence also evoked emotions at the sympathetic end of the emotional spectrum, where my strangely maternal heartstrings were tugged hard by the crescendo of Probets' solitary sobbing.
Possibly one of the most interesting and unique facets to the show is the utilisation of a digital backdrop as the primary set piece. The footage displayed upon it took on the aesthetic of evidence from a surveillance camera, which inevitably, was the very thing that set Winston and Julia's grim fate into motion.
In conclusion, well, I don't think I need to narrow it down. I think it's perfectly clear that it was a flippin' spectacular show, made all the more theatrically successful by its concise cast of five. The heightened tension and unsettlingly prophetic themes that dominated the show combined forces to bring to the stage a contemporary yet timeless performance that I walked away from wearing a rather stupid grin, evoked by the most blissful realisation: I would be experiencing this tumultuous bout of excitement all over again in a week!
...Also, Nelle recognised me during curtain call on my first viewing. WINNING.
...Me again: this post, minus the update on my social and educational pursuits, could have been my final piece of Drama assessment EVER, but my Fascist teacher is forcing me into presenting a ludicrously long monologue. So SCREW YOU, [INSERT NAME OF TEACHER], I DID THE FUCKING RESPONDING TASK ANYWAY, STICK THAT IN YOUR PIPE AND SMOKE IT!
No comments:
Post a Comment