2012 Sydney Festival (theatre)

Image source: Sydney Festival

L'Effet de Serge
11 January (Seymour Centre)

Blurb: Meet Serge. Every Sunday he entertains his friends with a parade of homespun spectacles, animating everything around his basement and putting some magic back into their lives. With a nod to Jacques Tati, Samuel Beckett and Mr Bean, L'Effet de Serge is a haunting and humorous tribute to the pleasures and necessity of making art.

A disclaimer: I received this as a complimentary ticket for being a good little volunteer. I'd had it on my original shortlist, but it was knocked off due to limited funds so I was glad to be able to see it.

I think it's a bit of a stretch to name Tati, Beckett and Bean in the L'Effet de Serge blurb, even as a 'nod'. I'm not familiar with Tati, but Beckett is much more profound and Bean is far more slapstick than Serge turned out to be.

Which is not to say that the play isn't funny. The gentle humour of Serge is testament to Gaetan Vourc'h's performance as the titular character: a deadpan walkthrough that makes the audience do the work to find the humour in his actions. These days, so much is handed on a platter to the audience, everything is overplayed, that this was a welcome respite from being told what to think and when to laugh. How very European.

The pace was correspondingly slow, which would border on boring for the less patient audience members, but there wasn't much I didn't like. The premise was simple: weekends in the life of Serge, who wants to entertain his friends. His friends are enlightened by what he can do with simple household objects. C'est ca. Whether on not the audience is similarly enlightened is for each individual to say. Serge is what it is.

What I did enjoy immensely was the intro and the outro to the piece. It seems director Philippe Quesne's signature is to sandwich his productions with the end 'credits' of the previous one and an overview of the next, as if in a TV show. The preceding play was D'Apres Nature, so we first see Vourc'h don a spacesuit as if exploring Serge's apartment; the next play is something funny involving invisible people and wigs (perhaps La Melancolie des dragons). Here Vourc'h overtly plays for laughs and the effect is a counterpoint to the subtlety of Serge.

Play rating: 7/10 – placid piece of theatre requires input from audience
Enjoyment rating: 8/10 – enjoyed it more than I realised

*** *** ***

Image source: Sydney Festival

A History of Everything
14 January (Wharf 2) 

Blurb: Inspired by Darwin and Dawkins on the theory of evolution, by cosmology and the realisation that we're but a tiny dot on the timeline, A History of Everything spins backwards to the first fiery bang before leaping to our possible hereafters. A profound rollercoasting journey, this production will make you treasure your place in the history of everything.

This was an extraordinary piece of theatre. Starting with the news of the day, which I've totally forgotten now, the play exponentially cycles backwards in time to events of the past that have had an impact on humankind and then beyond that to when dinosaurs populated the earth and then beyond that to life's amoeba beginnings and the Big Bang in reverse. All on a large world map.

It is conceivable that the idea is not original, but the choice of what to represent (and the changing news of the day in each performance) was key to the effectiveness of the message: that not only are we just a blip in the history of the earth, we place far too little emphasis on how the past can teach us about who we are.

There were plenty of laughs, in particular the periodic Apple product announcements highlighting a revolution in technology in reverse chronological order: the iPad, the iPhone and then the iPod, and light-hearted look at politics and entertainment history. The performers also interwove their own personal histories, each saying a few words about the circumstances of their birth, which had the curious effect of breaking down the fourth wall while effortlessly integrating it into the piece.

As the days, months, years, decades, centuries and millennia cycle back the performance becomes more profound. Most affecting was the indication of war across the continents and across the centuries, all showing that despite numerous conflicts it seems we've never learnt our lessons. I enjoyed this trip very much and was highly impressed with the performers' energy and insight into our past, which carried well across the theatre.

Play rating: 10/10 – energetic, profound, perfectly executed
Enjoyment rating: 9/10 – highlighted my ignorance of history

2012 Sydney Festival (music)

• Mountain Mocha Kilimanjaro
• Julianna Barwick
• 41 Strings by Nick Zinner
• Amiina
  

Image source: Hot Source

Mountain Mocha Kilimanjaro supported by Electric Empire
8 January (Keystone Festival Bar)

Blurb: Mountain Mocha Kilimanjaro combine the rawest soulful grooves that would spark up anyone's dancing shoes and the furious energy of rock and roll, laying it all down in the classiest of funk manners.

Firstly, it poured like crazy. I'm talking about constant rain alternating between buckets and steady drenching. Secondly, the Festival Bar is not the best place to be when it's wet. The red gravel outside gets stuck to your shoes/feet and the inside of the tent smells like mildewy sweaty people.

When I finally made it to the venue—wet despite my raincoat *and* umbrella—I headed straight for the bar and had a cider, then settled in a safe little corner in front of the mixing desk for Electric Empire's final three songs. The mood was jovial and people were bopping energetically. I wrung out my dress in a small puddle.

MMK alighted the stage to wild screams and applause. I'd seen these guys before, a couple of years ago at Festival First Night, and they were deserving of the over-the-top welcome. The gig hit all the right notes: amusing banter in stilted English from the frontman, some really tight jazz-inspired solo instrumentals from each of the musicians, and an infectious rhythm that got the house jumping early on.

I spent the better part of the night in the air, surprised at my own stamina as much as MMK's. The musicians played with vigour and verve, with a love for the music and the crowd that was clearly visible even from halfway down the tent. There wasn't anything to fault in the set, but correspondingly there wasn't anything extra special here, just a solid night of funk. Which, it must be said, is never a bad thing. 

Gig rating: 8/10 – top marks for making a miserable night worth coming out for
Enjoyment rating: 7/10 – it's hard to dance in a wet dress

*** *** ***

Image source: Sydney Festival

Julianna Barwick

15 January (The Famous Spiegeltent)

Blurb: Julianna Barwick's atmospheric world is one of ghostly echoes, galactic lullabies and traditional chants. By means of loops and pedals, and occasional piano and percussion, she builds layer upon layer of abstract vocals to create a delicate sound of lush ambient folk.

I'll start by saying that Barwick sings as if she's doing the theme music that might accompany a flight of angels. There are equal parts longing and wonder in her voice, a beauty so ethereal that it hurts the good hurt.

Coupled with the magnificent interior of The Famous Spiegeltent, my favourite festival venue, Barwick's songs capture that which most singers find elusive: a certain enigma in the aural aesthetic. Lush and ambient, indeed.

Unfortunately the performance didn't amount to much more than Barwick and her loop pedal and a couple of instruments. I spent a large part of the set squandering my second-row seat and gazing up at the chandelier (for Meow Meow's show) or closing my eyes and letting the notes sink in. There have been more interesting things done with loop pedals (I'm thinking of Mr Percival or Holly from Fergus Brown), so the method is a means of creating a choral effect rather than a novelty. Barwick also didn't bother to invest in a rapport with the audience, despite the reach of her music.

So, although I was glad for this introduction to Miss Barwick—and believe me, I spent a large part of the gig transfixed—I wouldn't rush to buy a ticket to another live performance of hers when the money and time would be better spent just acquiring her albums and getting to know them.

Gig rating: 7/10 – not so much a performance as a recital
Enjoyment rating: 7/10 – aurally spectacular, but no meaningful connections

*** *** ***

Image source: Sydney Festival

41 Strings by Nick Zinner featuring the Australian Youth Orchestra

5.20pm, 22 January (Sydney Opera House)

Blurb: The piece is part concerto in the classical tradition, but with the modern rock ‘n' roll feel one would expect from Zinner. Zinner conducts and plays an in-the-round experience with an impressive line-up of acoustic and electric strings, ranging from violins to electric bass (with some drums and synths thrown in for good measure).

I don't know Nick Zinner from Adam. Oh yes, I've heard of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs but have no idea who's in the band and would not be able to hum a bar of any of their songs if my life depended on it. So let's just establish that I came to the concert on the promise that this would be a dynamic and interesting orchestral experience more akin to an epic instrumental with rock sensibilities than an alternative version of Vivaldi's The Four Seasons. I'm happy to say it was all that and more.

The support act was IIII, a piece also inspired by The Four Seasons, performed by a drum circle. The start was wayward, more noise than music, but once a more conventional rhythm kicked in, all was well. While the piece provided a good kickstart to proceedings and foreshadowed what was to come, I felt it outstayed its welcome. I love me a good drum (I'm a taiko enthusiast after all and a big fan of TaikOz and Synergy Percussion) but I felt the repetition drag on the ears after 10 minutes. The audience were also restless and eager to hear the main performance.

After the interval we were rewarded with the appearance of Zinner surrounded by members of the Australian Youth Orchestra, a handful of drummers from the first set and a few guitarists. To say the piece exuded big themes would not be an understatement. There was a palpable sense that music—and the musicians—knew what it was like to be alive, which complemented a feeling of human insignificance in a bigger picture.

It was great to hear guitar licks alongside the heightened emotions of the strings and I highly recommend that anyone who enjoyed this check out deepblue orchestra, which I would nominate as the only other group that could pull off something this ambitious on roughly the same scale. One petty gripe, one that affected the gig for me, was that the violins were far too shrill at the afternoon performance—more a fault of sound engineering than performance.

Gig rating: 9/10 – epic
Enjoyment rating: 8/10 – inspired some dynamic dreaming 

*** *** ***

Image source: Sydney Festival

Amiina

25 January (The Famous Spiegeltent)

Blurb: Beginning life as the string section for Sigur Rós, Amiina have a unique electronically-infused and ethereal sound. The band's original line-up has since been augmented by the percussive sounds of glockenspiels and bells, as well as saws and other instruments. Live, Amiina deliver an aural treat, creating a dreamy, enigmatic and precisely organised chaos. A must for fans of the beauty and subtlety of contemporary Icelandic music.

What exactly is 'contemporary Icelandic music'? Does anyone actually have a solid definition of this term? Is it sparse ambient music, the kind you'd expect whales to make talking to icebergs? Or is it an icy whisper, like snow falling on a leaf?

Amiina's music embodies the essence of nature in an eloquent, electronic form. There is much that is folksy about the band members' performance but the sound goes beyond a cabin in the woods to bring listeners a flavour of the outdoors. It's like one of those films where the protagonist goes off to 'find himself' and discovers that the world is so much bigger than he imagined. A lot of Amiina's work stands on the precipice where there's an overwhelming tightness in the realisation of the enormity of it all followed swiftly by an acceptance, a love of one's place in the big wide, beautiful world.

The performance, while at times shambolic, was comforting gig with enough humour and grace to make the wait in the pouring rain a worthwhile one. I was particularly impressed with the instrumental handsaw. I mean, where do you get that kind of thing? How do you learn to play it? How do you make sound that blossoms with such a tool?

As a whole there was a lot of love in the room. The lush interior of the spiegeltent fit well with the music, and even the rain outside contributed to the cosiness of it all. Amiina were talented and endearing, and I hope when I see them again it will be in a venue as intimate as this.

Gig rating: 8/10 – sweet but not exceptional
Enjoyment rating: 8/10 – too much drifting can make one impatient

Committed (book)

Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert (Bloomsbury, 2010)

The blurb: At the end of her bestselling memoir Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert fell in love with Felipe, a Brazilian-born man of Australian citizenship who’d been living in Indonesia when they met. Resettling in America, the couple swore eternal fidelity to each other, but also swore to never, ever, under any circumstances get legally married. But providence intervened one day in the form of the United States government, which gave the couple a choice: they could either get married, or Felipe would never be allowed to enter the country again. 

Having been effectively sentenced to wed, Gilbert tackled her fears of marriage by delving into this topic completely, trying with all her might to discover through historical research, interviews, and much personal reflection what this stubbornly enduring old institution actually is.

Those who have read and enjoyed Gilbert's ubiquitous memoir Eat, Pray, Love will probably also enjoy this next chapter of her life—but not as much.

While there's travel, emotional upheaval and a cast of interesting side characters that Gilbert meets along the way, Committed is a far more intellectually involved book containing a good balance of history, informal interviews that say more than the questions ask, and a dash of politics under the unfolding drama of Gilbert's personal experience whereas Eat, Pray, Love sat heavily on Gilbert's physical and emotional journey.

For my part, I found this to be a superior book that 'spoke to me' more clearly. Gilbert's breezy tone is deceptively clever. She imparts humour and intimacy with ease and her anecdotes and emotions are well wrought. If anything, she is a better writer in this memoir than in the preceding crisis story: being more or less focused on the subject of marriage, the chapters work to convey certain elements of the ritual to make a whole, which satisfies long after closing the book.

She is also a master of pacing. Just as you think she's going to let the tearaway narrative have its way, she reins back the informational and emotional avalanche so I finished each section with a sense of bonding with the text that went beyond the words on the page.

Although Gilbert rightfully claims to know very little about marriage compared to the many scholars she lists in her appendix, the book's accessible style was the key reason I enjoyed Committed far more than its predecessor. And, let's admit it, I probably liked it because I am also a marriage sceptic.

While I read Gilbert's personal experience with interest and absorbed some of the wisdom she relays from the people she interviews about marriage, the chapter that secured my loyalty was 'Marriage and History'. My own feelings about marriage were changed by some of the facts revealed in this section, how marriage not only pre-dates but transcends religion, politics and the law, and the alternative view of marriage as a form of rebellion.

This chapter is pivotal to the book. Gilbert's own scepticism comes from a messy divorce but through her research she discovers that marriage is not the institution she thought it was. Reviewing marriage through the lens of her research, her experience and the experience of others she meets, Gilbert discernibly comes around—and I wouldn't be surprised if many a reader came with her.

This is the book for you if you are a fan of Gilbert's writing, a marriage sceptic, or need some good arguments for why excluding certain people from the institution of marriage is wrong.


Book rating: 9/10 – a convincing, accessible memoir written with panache
Enjoyment rating: 8/10 – marriage-sceptic reader makes peace with marriage