Burning Daylight

Marrageku
Presented by Salamanca Arts Centre and Mobile State
Hobart, November 26–27 2009

by Stephenie Cahalan

It says much about the quality of a story that is so firmly of a place, that it can be told anywhere and lose none of its impact. Burning Daylight — a story of prejudice, cultural mistrust and love’s subsequent suffering — resonated strongly in Hobart, despite being so drastically distant from Broome in every way.

This production tells a truly sad story of the wrongs done to people decades ago, and the depth of sadness that has pervaded subsequent generations. Set in Broome on one of those long booze-sodden nights, Burning Daylight mixes contemporary dance rooted in Aboriginal traditions, Japanese Butoh, film, rap and karaoke pop/love songs. Live guitar, haunting harmonica juxtaposed with caricatured karaoke, classic key-word rap and a really great bass to pull it all together made for a very cool musical experience.

Dalisa Pigram is pivotal to the production, as co-conceiver, choreographer, and performer. Pigram is fortunate to have Patrick Dodson as her grandfather to consult on the diplomacy of telling old stories without upsetting the protocols of the elders of the region. And Dodson, must feel pretty lucky to have this skilled, articulate performer as his granddaughter, linking generations of storytellers and audiences via the modern means available and necessary to reach Australians, Indigenous and otherwise.

Like the recent release of the biography of Ronnie Summers, (the Cape Barren Island elder and musician) and the enormous success of Samson and Delilah, Burning Daylight is another powerful means of educating all Australians about the way life is and was for people that have got the very short end of the historical stick, be they be the original Australians or newer members of the community, such as the Japanese and Malay characters we meet. Stories have been the essence of cultural exchange, social cohesion and daily education for Indigenous folk before and since white occupation, so it is no surprise — but no less of a thrill — to see storytellers such as these in action. With a director like Rachel Swain, whose pre-Olympics production of Mimi stirred the spirits lurking in its Centennial Park ‘venue’ in Sydney, and the stage prowess of Trevor Jamieson, Burning Daylight was bound to leave an imprint. Hobart musician Matther Fargher, who recently contributed to the Tasmanian play in development Origins, is once again displaying his talent for mixing cultural ingredients and I have yet to see anything by set-designer Joey Riogrok Van Der Werven that I haven’t loved.

So in this nation, troubled by a parlous inequality between Indigenous and other Australians, Burning Daylight has given me a tiny clue of what I can do. I can make sure I hear and see the stories that are now so accessible — in bookstores, on radio, in theatres everywhere. I am not so naïve to think that plays and music are going to alleviate the consequences of entrenched despair that too many people are living, but surely with education comes understanding, and with that comes action. And with the creativity and intelligence of artists such as these, the solutions will unfold with the trickle-down effect of success and empowerment.

There is no happy ending in Burning Daylight, but the vibrancy of the performers and their impact makes it a tale of power and survival. The audience is left with hope that is not written into the script, but purely in the telling of the story.

Burning Daylight

by Kylie Elizabeth Eastley
Burning Daylight is the latest work from Marrugeku, a contemporary intercultural performance company based in Broome, and is inspired by descriptions of Broome's bar life in the late 1800's.
Burning Daylight reflects the tension and chaos of multicultural life in Broome where inter-racial relationships were illegal, the town was brimming with exotic influences from the Far East and the traditional owners of the land were homeless.

Conceivers of Burning Daylight, Rachel Swain and Dalisa Pigram have developed an honest and engaging work that provides glimpses into the humorous and tragic life of cultures affected by government policy, segregation and the search for wealth in the form of pearls.

In an incongruous meeting of rock musical, rap and cheesy spaghetti western the combination of original live music, film and culturally-fused dance creates a mysterious place foreign to most of us. Clever stage production, direction, costuming and props draw the audience into a world that connects with all our senses. Anyone who has lived or travelled to Northern Australia will feel the warm air and smell the frangipani in this production that evokes such feeling from a Tasmanian audience that couldn't be further away culturally and geographically from the inspiration for this work.

I loved this show for many reasons, but mostly because it was Australian culture presented with great honesty and humour. There were many highlights with outstanding performances by all the cast, especially the charismatic Trevor Jamieson and Dalisa Pigram.
But there must be mention of the original and live soundtrack. Music is a fantastic vehicle for story-telling and along with the dynamic dancing, combined to make Burning Daylight a very successful production. The integrity and depth of the music gave the production greater resonance in its depiction of a confused, chaotic and juxtaposed community struggling between the new and the old school.

We need more Australian stories and I look forward to experiencing future works from this company. Complex and flawed as they are, it is so refreshing to see our own stories in live performances. Hobart's Princess Wharf No. 1 succeeded as a venue for this production, allowing the set to extend and enhanced the arid environment of North West Australia.

Burning Daylight was presented by Salamanca Arts Centre and performed three shows in Hobart, the final leg of a national tour. For more information go to www.marrugeku.com.au

The Messiah

Tasmanian Theatre Company
Backspace Theatre, Hobart

By Kylie Elizabeth Eastley

The Messiah is a great parody of every megalomaniac in the theatre world who has ever wanted to re-enact Ben Hur on their local stage, with a props list including a Hessian toga, a ball of twine and a bottle of Clag glue.

Desmond Olivier Dingle, played by Iain Lang, proudly bursts forth as the artistic director of the National Theatre of Tranmere (NTT) to share his personal spiritual journey. In his 70’s-inspired beige suit, and rouge covered cheeks, (I suspect they do their own makeup) Lang beautifully portrays this character, invoking our cringes, dislike and even a little bit of pity at times.

Lang plays the straight man and is joined by Guy Hooper as Raymond Box, the inept but enthusiast second string of the NTT. Together they ambitiously recreate the Christmas story with the two actors playing the entire cast including Mary, Joseph, God, Herod…you get the picture.

To raise the calibre of the production Dingle employs Mrs Le Mottee, played by Noreen Le Mottee, to sing highlights from The Messiah by Handel. Her random interjections along with the chaos of Dingle and Box as they flip between enacting the play and disagreeing on acting ability create a hilarious ride for the audience.

Hooper is fantastic as he mispronounces words and physically does just about everything you can do on a small stage including a version of the military tattoo. There were many highlights, but the depiction of Michelangelo’s fresco Creation of Adam by the two actor’s sticks in my mind, as does the mime sequence by Hooper in the second half of the show. Perhaps there could have been some tightening up in the second half during the shepherd scene as this did drag and didn’t seem to be vital for the narrative.

Credit should be given to designer, John Bowling who provided clever tinker toy props that added to the sense of amateur. I particularly like the excerpt from The Secret Diaries of Desmond Olivier Dingle included in the program.

The Messiah is great fun, not just for the audience but for the players. This production must have been a relief to undertake in light of the turbulent year for the Tasmanian Theatre Company. Audiences should get to this show and immerse themselves in the world of Dingle and Box as it is something extraordinary.

The Messiah continues its season every Thursday & Saturday 8.15pm till the end of November with a family matinee on Saturday 21st at 2.15pm.

The Messiah

Tasmanian Theatre Company
Backspace Theatre
Every Thur - Sat during November
8.15pm (Special Family Matinee on Sat 21 at 2.15pm)

by Stephenie Cahalan

Not since Floating and the great Hugh Hughes experience (Ten Days on the Island 2009) have I left a theatre with aching cheeks from smiling so much. Full of clowning, miming and ridiculous slapstick humour, The Messiah had the audience hooting with laughter.

Iain Lang and Guy Hooper are the National Theatre of Tranmere’s ensemble of Desmond Dingle and Raymond Box. Joined by (NTT fixture) grand dame Mrs Le Mottee, played by the perfectly cast Noreen Le Mottee, the three put on a Christmas spectacle like no other. Where else can you seen two actors playing the roles of Mary, Joseph, God, Archangel Gabriel, the three wise men, Herod, shepherds, souk-salesmen and more.

Rough-hewn sets and rough-hewn costumes in the rough-hewn Backspace Theatre provide the necessary additions to the story, but it was Lang and Hooper’s performances that were a true delight. In the tradition of the classic comedy routine, Lang played the insufferable straight man to Hooper’s buffoon. They appeared to have fun in what were highly physical performances. Written by Patrick Barlow, The Messiah has been adapted to suit the Tasmanian context and it works well. Our audience, a good representation of ages 12 and up, was more than happy to get drawn into the fun of the production.

The Messiah is so worth seeing, even just for Hooper’s mime sequence and the touching homage to Digger, the highly-decorated 127 year-old Kelpie. It is the perfect primer for Christmas-mania that is bearing down upon us. I will invoke it during dreaded long-wait-at-the-till experiences, and use the memory of Mrs Le Mottee’s Bizet to block out the ubiquitous Christmas muzac.

While Desmond’s diva dummy-spit in the second half of the show is amusing, a little trimming to shorten the second act would not go astray as those extra ten minutes did not add substantially to the story.

If you have been thinking that you should get to the theatre and that you should patronise our local company then The Messiah is the answer. The Tasmanian Theatre Company deserves our support and this production, especially with the long season, will allow you to perfectly satisfy all those ‘shoulds’ before the end of year, leaving no excuses to miss out.

IDENTITY

Tasdance
Theatre Royal
October 30, 2009

In a thrilling double bill, Tasdance served its Hobart audience another chance to dine on the shiningly expressive technical skills of its talented troupe of six dancers. Artistic Director Annie Greig invited renowned Indigenous choreographer Frances Rings and choreographer, dancer and filmmaker Anton to collaborate with these talented dancers and choreograph a suite that sheds light on our day-to-day quest for authenticity.

Feeling as if, at times I live on the brink of my own sanity in a modern world, I personally responded to Anton’s The Blur. One might say that his response to our contemporary plight was a bit too literal. The dancers moved fiercely on either side of large, flexible Perspex slabs (symbolising the myriad technologies ruling our lives), their referred body movement building to the point of sensory overload and exhaustion, then back again. Nevertheless I was entranced (as I can be by any glowing screen) by the choreography — both combative and submissive — and the dancers’ empathetic response to the reality of a globalised lifestyle. The perspex was not suspended independently but always held or bent by one or two dancers to epitomize our situation. Technology connects us, but we are also slaves to it.

Amidst the hypnotic haze there were memorable moments such as a lull in the throbbing soundtrack when you could hear the frenzied sound of the dancers catching their breath—a brutal instant of relief after a prolonged segment of what looked like electrocution. Or Trisha Dunn and Sofie Burgoyne hunkered down, deformed and distorted under their flexi-plastic fields. I particularly loved the Pyramus and Thisbe-esque movement of Floeur Alder and Malcolm McMillan as they yearned to find each other on either side of the translucent screen, never to be united. You could liken this to a game of mobile phone tag, but I’d prefer to err on the side of romanticism in this day and age.

Though the movement, music, lighting and use of plastic was scintillating, the cheap fabric of the costumes in this number did disservice to the dancers. Reminiscent of the terry-toweling jumpsuits we wore in the 80’s the women’s costumes were uncomfortably distracting on their beautiful physiques. Sarah Fiddamen’s lithe limbs, in a brown costume beside her counterparts’ of green, blue and pink, were nearly invisible in the blur. Was that the choreographer’s intention, or the only other colour available?

By the time Remembered of Us began I was emotionally exhausted and rattled by The Blur and its terrible jumpsuits, so I could not settle into Frances Rings more lyrical, expansive and distinctly feminine thematic. I wish I could have seen it first. I suspect, too, that the dancers’ bodies still held the memory of The Blur—how could they not after all that gyrating? But they were all exquisite nonetheless.

The incorporation of the dancers’ narratives at the beginning of the piece was a beautiful inclusion and left me wanting more as its lyrical intertwining of bodies reached a crescendo. The set concept was exquisite in its matriarchal glory, but unresolved as it attempted to convey too many messages. The gorgeous life-sized loom through which dancers wove themselves became a little too literal and superfluous while acting as projection screen bearing images of double helixes. The large crocheted net of red satin cord was once again a beautiful idea, but would have been more effective were it carried through in its unravelling and interplay with the dancers.

If you weren’t there, I am tempted to refer you to watch SBS’s latest series of Who Do You Think You Are? to get the gravity of what Rings wanted us to grapple with. What are the building blocks of your individuality? But sitting at home in front of your glowing screen is a far inferior experience to making your way into our quaint Hobart CBD to see contemporary dance at this level. I can’t wait for our next opportunity. They are too few and far between!

Sara Wright

IDENTITY

Theatre Royal
30 October 2009

Regardless of our age or experience, we all have moments of anxiety and self doubt as we teeter between the defiant individualist and the need to be part of a community.

In Tasdance’s latest work, IDENTITY, Artistic Director Annie Greig invited two choreographers to explore the complexities of ‘unique personality’. Both explored individuality and unity, yet the results are very different.

The Blur, by Anton an experienced dancer, choreographer and film maker, was an edgy hard and fast response with the dancers manipulating sheets of translucent perspex to create a sense of voyeurism, manipulation and control. With filmic qualities that included an evolving and rhythmical soundscape, the dancers moved in a staggered unison – together but not identical.

Movements were jolting and spasmodic with conflict between dancers giving way to touch, support and harmony. It was a fearless performance from Sofie Burgoyne, Joel Corpuz and Trisha Dunn who worked together seamlessly.

In contrast, the storytelling voice over that introduced Remembered Of Us , by choreographer Francis Rings, welcomed the audience into the work through narrative. Francis has worked extensively throughout Australia and overseas as a choreographer and dancer and brings an earthiness to the piece that is mimicked in the stage production.

The warm lighting, by Darren Willmott and textured set and costuming, by Odette Arietta-Shadbolt, was extremely effective and worked to create a sense of place. The walls of wool and ribbon provided opportunities for dancers to interact and contrasted well against The Blurs’ stark white down lights and empty stage.

Unlike The Blur, this work was full of cliques that tapped into our own memories in a tapestry that explored inherited traits and relationships. It was solemn, nostalgic and quite beautiful. The music overpowered the performance at times but did not distract from the duet by Sarah Fiddaman and Malcolm McMillan, who presented a strong and sensual representation of ‘a grown up relationship’ and a meeting of equals.

These two works engaged with the audience in very different ways. The Blur connected through a less reflective hypnotic partnering of sound and movement. Remembered of us was more conventional contemporary dance which presented clear ideas to the audience and invited us into the narrative.

With few empty seats at the Theatre Royal, it’s clear there’s an audience for contemporary dance. I look forward to more experiences like this.

IDENTITY continues on its Tasmanian tour, heading to Devonport Entertainment and Convention Centre 5-6 November. For more details contact www.tasdance.com.au

Identity

Tasdance
Theatre Royal
October 30, 2009
Anica Boulanger-Mashberg

Tasdance’s latest offering, Identity, pairs works by two choreographers exploring what makes us who we are. Anton’s ‘The Blur’ is a slightly edgy, abstract work playing with the disconnections and distractions of contemporary urban life, and ‘Remembered of us’ by Frances Rings is a gentle, lyrical work with a strong narrative thread about ancestry. Both are evocative and delivered with strength and commitment by four veteran and two new Tasdance performers.

In ‘The Blur’, sheets of slightly frosted Perspex create a sense of separation between dancers, and between dancers and audience. When working with the sheets, the dancers test the texture, the resistance, and the possibilities of the material, just as they push these relationships with space, with gravity, and with each other. In their movement they find breaking points, barriers, and sometimes support and protection. With ‘The Blur’ Anton challenges us, with a determined intensity, to question our own relationship with the modern world.

‘Remembered of us’, developed around the stories and histories of the dancers, asks fewer questions than ‘The Blur’ and instead offers melodic and comforting patterns of movement. The opening voice-over, about family resemblance and heritage, is both welcome and restrictive. It provides an accessible narrative context for the rest of the performance, but also dictates interpretation. The work is enriched by Odette Arietta-Shadbolt’s beautiful set (a series of woven, knitted, and wrapped wooden frames) but suffers under the weight of its slightly intrusive and self-conscious soundtrack, which occasionally suffocates the careful, symbolic, filmic phrases.

It’s not always easy (or important) to find and follow the narratives of contemporary dance, but in Identity I felt very drawn to the journey the dancers were making, as they traversed points of convergence and divergence. A highlight was Trisha Dunn’s solo in ‘Remembered of us’, as the other dancers caressed and lifted her limbs through a screen of the threads on one of the wooden frames. As she stepped away from the frame into a solo proper, the echoes of the other dancers’ hands and their impact on her movement were very vivid; a poetic metaphor for the way our history and ancestry can shape us even when it is not physically present.

The contrast between choreographic styles of the two works (with Rings’ more traditional) echoes the different understandings of ‘identity’ that each of us holds. Yet the two works also share a certain energy and intensity, reminding us that there is always some common cultural ‘identity’ underpinning our individual experience.