This non-linear installation performance piece incorporates music, visual arts, acting, mask work and some damn impressive technology in an exploration of human longevity (and potential immortality) and the possibilities and consequences for the future.
To begin with, the audience was uncertain, as we were herded onto The Street Theatre’s main stage and corralled there, behind the curtains, in a space demarcated by hanging transparent sheets. The mood was eerie and evocative, thanks to the music of Charles Martin and digital artworks of Benjamin Forster (and writer Peter Butz) and it felt like we’d been plunged into a game without knowing the rules. In fact, the performance was controlled by the audience – we each had a coded ticket, which we could scan to trigger a new performance scenario. Hard-working actor Hanna Cormick appeared from a nook in the corner of the stage for some sequences, while others used projections of video and graphics.
In one particularly effective scenario, audience members had our faces ‘scanned’ to see if we were candidates for longevity (I, sadly, was not). Our own ghostly faces were later projected onto one of the four transparent walls. This scenario was repeated several times, but always different and Cormick’s customer service hostess character grew more and more belligerent.
I’m not sure how clearly the setting – a derelict museum exhibit of the future – came across to other audience members who didn’t have the benefit of back story that I did. But in the end, I don’t think it mattered. It provided a framework, a fiction, for the performers. And for those looking hard enough, the imagery was there.
Martin’s mesmerising music and percussion underscored most of the performance. One composition in particular stood out for me, evoking Vangelis’ iconic score from Blade Runner. It was a reference other film theory nerds would have appreciated; an echo of the film’s own exploration of concepts of longevity and the ethics around humanity’s use of technology.
By far the most technologically impressive feat was a scene about jellyfish – in fact, a type of jellyfish that is essentially immortal. Images of these jellyfish were projected onto the walls and Cormick, fitted with something presumably like a Wii remote, entered the performance space and danced with them. Her movements controlled the movements of the projected jellyfish, flinging them from side to side, guiding them to glide from one place to another. The message – that by controlling the jellyfish, we have the potential to control our own lifespans.
This was just one subtextual message of many, but you didn’t need to be able to excavate the deeper meaning of the performance to enjoy it. It’s not a show for everyone, but despite the philosophical subject matter, the audience interaction made it accessible and engaging.
THESE FRAGMENTS I HAVE SHORED AGAINST MY RUINS:
22 SHORT PLAYS by David Finnigan has had a long life for a series of shorts. Picked up for a play reading in 2010, and drawn out of itself over the last year by MKA Richmond’s head honcho Tobias Manderson-Galvin (last seen here as part of CYT’s Open House in 2010, doing Afternoon of the Faun), the performance comprises 22 bite-sized plays from Finnigan’s breviary of unperformed scripts. “Having drawn a few millilitres of vivid blood from the veins of a whole army of cankered scripts, 22 Short Plays mixes them together in an actual mix,” says Finnigan. “Not a sketch show format where one show follows the next, but in a complete arc, courtesy of Tobias Manderson-Galvin’s brilliant editing and oversight."
22 Short Plays reflects a growing interest in stretching the boundaries of collaboration and challenges assumptions about what theatre ‘is’. The following is a necessarily truncated version of an email interview with Finnigan and Manderson-Galvin.
How much of the plays’ structure was up to you, and how much of it is the work of the other? Is Tobias the Pound to Finig’s Waste Land-era Eliot?
TMG: What a luxury it is to collaborate on a play like this. MKA peeked into the Finnigan brain vault and 28 plays surfaced from which to make a selection. Some real talent made the squad whilst others sat on the bench patiently waiting for their shot in the big league. […] Does 22 Short Plays end in us chanting Shantih shantih shantih? Absolutely. All plays should. And all credit should go to the author who gave us the opportunity to make Shantih Shantih Shantih.
DF: …There’s a school of thought behind the well-made short play – I believe the Short and Sweet cats even provide lessons on the topic. None of the plays in 22 Short Plays qualify in that regard. None of them have gags, or if they do have gags they’re accidental. This is not a highbrow collection of well-formed nuggets honed into pearlescence and then lined up in order from start to finish. These are the highlight snapshots from nine years of failure. These are not handsome short plays, they are fragments – and in that sense, they are amenable to being molded and reworked into something greater than their component parts.
Enter Toby. […] The way he structured [the plays] had something in common with the way an electronic musician might structure a DJ set. There are recurring themes, motifs, there is a continued thread and a pulse that runs like a spine through the whole thing, but things segue one to another, overlap, intercut, weave in and out, and build.
How much ego do you have to sacrifice to allow someone else to edit and evolve your work?
DF: […] My scripts sit at the intersection of a huge scope of creative collaboration across all disciplines within the performing arts. As a playwright, I’m less a creative auteur who generates something new than I am the owner of a venue which hosts the coming together of an extraordinary collaborative venture. A play script is not a work of art in itself - even 22 play scripts together do not equate to art - it is the starting point for the rad shit. Put another way, a script is not interesting or worthwhile until it’s covered in the director, designer and actors’ scribbled notes.
Tobias: What are the challenges involved in performance? What drew you to Finnigan’s work?
TMG: The challenges are many and the rewards few but I knew on reading the work of David Finnigan that he was just like himself which is a lot like you and a bit like me too. For example he was enquiring into what makes the tilting upper-lip of a series of rock’n’roll singers so violently alluring. He was contemplating why we don’t use Discmans anymore. He was contemplating the mortality of his closest relatives. And at one point he’d read a TV programming guide with sentence long description attachments. Do you have a short attention span? We do.
Can you talk through MKA’s raison d’etre for those Canberrans who may not be aware of your stuff?
TMG: MKA is about the playwright. Based on the successful model presented by companies like the Royal Court, the SOHO Writers Theatre (London) and Instant Cafe Theatre (KL) […] we stage work that’s bold, urgent and we’re not afraid of time travel.
On MKA, David: what do you think of these cats?
DF: One of my favourite things about the Canberra indie theatre scene is the fear, the fever and the desperation that drives companies. You can work all day and all night and make stunning work after stunning work, but you’re always just a few minutes away from complete failure. Every show could be your last […] and everyone knows it and everyone can feel it and so people create and create with a furious energy and passion that wants to scorch some kind of mark before your fire goes out.
[…] in Melbourne, MKA are scrabbling at the walls of the scene with that same mad hunger that looks like they’ve got nothing left to lose and nowhere to go but out, so they’re risking basically everything and aiming for the top of the heap. A lot of guts, a lot of skill and a lot of ambition, and it’s paying off in a really crazy way.
MKA Richmond present 22 Short Plays by David Finnigan at The Street Theatre, Thursday September 15 to Saturday September 17 at 8pm, Sunday September 18 at 6pm. Tickets and bookings are through thestreet.org.au, and for more on the genesis of 22 Short Plays, check out David Finnigan’s blog at blind-dragonfly.com .
HANY ARMONIOUS is the sole artist in the Australian Pavilion for the 54th Venice Biennale, showing until Sunday November 27. Regarded as a playground of the very wealthy, Venice’s public contemporary art exhibition democratically shares shocking ideas, political comment and artistic experimentation. Armanious was born in 1962 in Egypt but has lived and worked in Sydney for his adult life. His work is infused with his diasporic existence, living between two cultures and inhabiting a third, the art world.
Perhaps Armanious’s 11 sculptures were chosen for his thoughtful re-formatting of ordinary objects to satirical ancient relics – a unique achievement. Armanious is long established in contemporary Australian art and his work is an essential component of the development of Australian art history proper.
Armanious’ message is universal and subliminal. He is interested in things; the things we see, remember, like, dislike and eventually file away as part of our collective consciousness. By remodeling recognisable objects, images and even historical and commercial imagery, Armanious converts what we once thought of as immaterial to something tangible.
For example what takes the shape of a throwaway Burger King crown is actually a casting of the consumer item embellished with semi-precious stones. It sits on the bottom rung of a leaning tower of bronze desks. The work, Adzeena Persius, 2010, contains gold plated silver, tourmaline, rubelite, blue topaz, garnets and citrine. By choosing materials from all over the world and selecting gems with various values, Armanious gives a critique of high and low art.
His sculptures are ‘process based’ and as a result take on complex metaphorical meaning. They can be thought of as ‘assemblage’ art, putting one object in the context of another. Armanious also applies this to reassembling ideas. Take Effigy of an Effigy with Mirage, 2010. The iconic imagery of Picasso is echoed in the sculpture cast in fibreglass and pewter with pigment. Not only does Armanious displace the function of the original object but by doing so ‘assembles’ a totally foreign object.
Previously Armanious has toyed with our perception of solids; his objects look like they have crawled out of primordial ooze. His Biennale contribution, 17 years since the creation of Snake Oil, 1994, NGA, shows that his early ideas have evolved to look deeper into cultural difference and the modes of production of cultural materials, such as art. These works express the transnational and global identity that is the norm in Australia today; an idea that ought to resonate with the 33,000 international guests coming through the Palazzo.
Hany Armanious has exhibited widely in Australia, the United States, New Zealand and Europe. His work can be found in The National Gallery of Australia, The Art Gallery of New South Wales, Roslyn Oxley9 gallery and most recently at The Drill Hall gallery, Canberra.
The CANBERRA SHORT FILM FESTIVAL (CSFF) has been a staple in the cinema diet of filmmakers and film enthusiasts in Canberra for the past 16 years. This year, under the direction of Anna Koprowska, the film festival is bigger than ever before.
Koprowska, a native from Poland, had extensive experience with festivals and film production in Europe. When asked what aspects of the festival she is involved with as director, Anna replies, “Really everything. It’s been a lot of work. With larger film festivals, even when you’re the director, there are many more people involved. With a smaller festivals, you are involved in every single thing.”
She clearly has a vision and a lot of affection for the festival, saying, “I really love this little project – and when I mean little, I actually mean short, because it’s not a little event at all. In Canberra it’s really the second largest film festival after the International Film Festival.” The number of films they received this year was “200! Well, it was really 199, but only because one had to be disqualified!”
Anna is particularly animated when she talks about the opening and closing nights of the festival, which will include screenings of Oscar-winning short film The Lost Thing, and Yorram Gross’ (creator of Blinky Bill) cartoon Professor Filutek.
Talking about what makes the CSFF stand out from other film festivals in Canberra, Anna says, “If you look at the Canberra film festivals they’re either very local, like Lights! Canberra! Action!, or they’re international film festivals, like Flickrfest. We are very strictly a national competition.”
The CSFF used to have a specific Canberra focus, but looks to be angling itself to become a major national competition. Anna talked about her decision to remove the Canberra region category this year, saying, “I understand that caused a controversy… It was done because in the Canberra region category you had schools, emerging, and practicing filmmakers. Obviously for whoever was judging these things… it was difficult.”
However, Anna stresses that, “in every section we have at least one Canberra film.” In the practicing category are Marisa Martin’s Tegan the Vegan, andAlex Chapman and James Lane’s Occupants. In the emerging category is Christian Doran’s Falling, in the grassroots category Jimmy Ennett’s Invasion, and in the Schools category a film from students at Narrabundah College.
To close, I ask Anna what category is not to be missed this year, and she gives an inspiring answer: “I really like the grassroots category, because these people are mostly students. And while they don’t get that much money, they are so full of ideas. Big money, in many cases, can kill imagination and limit a filmmaker. It shows you how innovative young people can be… with their passion and their motivation and their dreams, they can really do a great job.”
The Canberra Short Film Festival will be screening at Dendy Cinemas Canberra from Sunday September 16 to Tuesday September 18. Tickets are available from dendy.com.au, for $16/$14 concession.
2010's inaugural ANU ARTS REVUE was, by all accounts, a resounding triumph on all imaginable fronts. Far from what may be expected to result from the lacklustre 'she'll be right' nonchalant attitude ascribed to most BA students, the production was a professional, tightly-scripted affair to the last detail. As one reviewer put it, the 2010 crew "…succeeded in creating a show that was brilliantly witty, original and entertaining, and which at the same time struck the perfect balance between Arts-centric comedy and comedy that could be appreciated by your regular, off-the-street Canberran."
Such a precedent is undeniably altitudinous, but was it at all unfair or burdensome for this year's cast and crew? On a crisp spring afternoon in Glebe Park, Sal Withnell (this year's co-director alongside Carl Reinecke) explains how the Arts Revue 2011 is certainly no Room on Fire or Aha Shake Heartbreak.
"I wouldn't say it was like second album pressure, but we were aware that we did something pretty special last year," she says. "Even though a lot of the people that were involved last year are involved again this year, we don't see the productions as connected in any particular way. They're really different shows. But at the end of the day, it's all the same vibe – we're just a bunch of students procrastinating from our Arts degrees. We did put a lot more thought into the timetabling of it. But then, we're all Arts students, so it's all done the night before. Not matter how much planning we do, it's always a last-minute rush, but always a lot of fun."
Alongside Withnell and Reinecke are Bec Taylor (of Fun Machine fame) as musical director, Sham Sara as producer, and a cast of 16. Last year's director, Meg O'Connell is not involved this time around, having been busy with her production at this year's Edinburgh Fringe Festival. As Withnell explains, aside from what the crew learned from last year, the context of the show is still much the same: a faculty that until last year had no revue despite - ironically enough - having an army of students with all the time in the world on their hands.
"I think what we learnt the most from last year's performance is that people definitely loved the songs, so we've put a lot more emphasis on music this year," Withnell says. "Last year we had a running vibe of a cabaret show; this year we have a completely different focus, which I think is a bit brighter."
On the topic of music, this year's Revue is said to be a 60/40 split between skits and music, with several of the musical numbers being original songs written by Taylor and her crew of musicians.
"The new musical numbers are pretty cool and we're really excited about them," gushes Withnell. "Bec Taylor is just so good at what she does, so we wanted to use her as much as possible. Everyone is going to be pretty impressed with what she pulls off."
Another departure from last year's production is the content and subject matter of the skits and musical numbers. 2010's revue threw out a relatively equal balance of skits accessible to both students and non-students (especially in comparison to the revues of other faculties). Yet, with last year's skits all but exhausting the myriad of stereotypical perceptions of Arts students, this year the writers took a more inclusive approach to their targets.
"We tried to avoid doing direct lecture-bashing and things that only Arts students would understand. We tried to go off-campus a lot more this year," Withnell explains. "A lot of our skits this year are just generally funny things that could happen anywhere. They're not ANU-specific. I mean, the Arts faculty is so big that we might as well make jokes about anything – we don't need to have a hot lecturer skit. Besides, it's hard to get the whole cast to agree on who the hot lecturer is, so we just canned it."
And then, of course, there's the particular social or political bent that your off-the-street audience member would – not unjustifiably – expect from an Arts Revue. Putting aside Withnell's comment that all participants must be Bolsheviks (in jest, I assume...), she speaks to the mostly impartial tone of the production.
"I think it's pretty well balanced. We look at stereotypes a lot, and we give as much as we get. We try to be pretty objective about that sort of stuff. It's all fairly democratic,” she instructs. And as far as risqué or touchy topics go?
"Yeah, we've been pretty careful not to put in material that is too controversial; we don't want to isolate members of society. However, I don't really hold back all that much in the script-writing. I think the more abuse the better. People want to go and be entertained for two hours. It's not a coffee at Tilley's, it's a theatre show."
ANU Arts Revue plays at the Courtyard Studio (Canberra Theatre Centre) from Friday September 30 to Sunday October 2. All evening sessions have sold out. Tickets for 2pm sessions on Saturday 1 and Sunday 2 October are available from Canberra Theatre Centre for $20/$15.
