Month: September 2019

Theatre

Review: I’m a Phoenix Bitch

An intense and vital story of motherhood, madness and hope.

By Irene Bell

Don’t go see this show with your mum … or do, I don’t know.

Bryony Kimmings’s latest, I’m a Phoenix, Bitch, is not a gentle and loving portrayal of motherhood. The descent into madness in this autobiographical performance piece is not in any way sexy or mysterious. While the sets are cartoonish, the asides comical, this play is unashamedly real and brave. What an absolute privilege to see this show.

Kimmings is a fantastic writer; her monologue never gets stale and the rapport she builds between her and the audience is almost instant. I’m a Phoenix, Bitch is her story of becoming a mother, a series of traumatic events and how she ultimately finds herself again – or meets and comes to understand her new self, at least. Early on in the show Kimmings says the we are safe with her – this is true, but it doesn’t mean only an hour later you won’t be crying ugly, therapeutic tears.

The staging is wonderfully simple and clever. Four set pieces covered in white sheets wait for the show to begin. Each represents a part or a place in Kimmings’s story. As she uncovers each one, inviting us into her past and revisiting it herself, we are drawn deeper and deeper into the trauma. The separate scenes are delivered with humour and wit, mostly shown through a camera whose filming of Kimmings’s performance is projected onto a screen. The scenes are played as pastiches of various classic cinema depicting women, mothers and female mental illness. It’s tongue in cheek until it becomes too real, until the scene spits Kimmings back out into the monologue, no hiding behind a camera.

I’m a Phoenix, Bitch is the beauty of theatre: at its heart it is a room full of strangers flexing their empathy muscles as we listen to a woman’s story and truly, from the bottom of our hearts, wish her all the best. You wish for a happy ending that doesn’t come, not because the ending is sad, but rather because life goes on. Go see I’m a Phoenix Bitch ready to open your heart to a stranger on stage and her son.

I’m a Phoenix, Bitch is playing at the Arts Centre until 15 September. Tickets can be bought here online (www.artscentremelbourne.com.au/whats-on/2019/theatre/im-a-phoenix-bitch) or by calling the box office on 03 9281 8000.

 

Fringe, Theatre

Review: After, The End

A story of love, loss, glitter and wine

By Samuel Barson

Death has very quickly become one of the biggest taboos of the modern era. Nobody wants to talk about it, let alone talk about it in front of an audience of people whilst drinking an entire bottle of wine, dressed in a glittering jumpsuit and high heels.  Until Jayden Walker, that is …

Walker, in his latest show, appropriately titled After, The End, does exactly that. Jayden’s father passed away in 2016, and Walker spends an hour with his audience reflecting, joking and pondering death, both in a general sense and in the context of his own personal experiences.

What strikes you right away about Walker is his immense strength. He is powerful, both in his emotional integrity and performative skill. He expertly weaves between highly exaggerated comedy and a more subtle and natural reflective state. In one moment he is strutting around the stage flaunting himself with his sassy, razor sharp wit, and the next he is standing still, describing the final moments of his father’s life.

The love he has for his father is palpable. As is the love he has for performing and storytelling. And it’s an absolute honour to be invited in to be a part of it his very personal story.

Naturally, there are going to be critics of what Walker does in this show. The jokes he makes about death do enter fairly dark territory. But it’s important they’re not misinterpreted as insensitive. For many using comedy is a valid form of coping and healing for some. As both an artist and his father’s son, Walker exercises his right to do so, and does so incredibly well.

Unable to be viewed as anything but original, I wouldn’t advise going in expecting a conventional piece of theatre or comedy. Instead, expect to form a connection with another human being and their story of loss and love … as well as their contagious love for glitter and wine.

After, The End is currently playing at The Motley Bauhaus in Fitzroy North until Sunday 15th September. Tickets can be purchased online at https://melbournefringe.com.au/event/after-the-end/) or by calling the Melbourne Fringe box office on 03 9660 9666.

Theatre

Review: Strong Girl

Calm and precise authentic storytelling

By Owen James

Director and creator Nadja Kostich has been running weekly workshops with both indigenous and non-indigenous girls from years 10-12 at Worawa Aboriginal College in Healesville for over a year, taking their “stories of strength” and theatrically translating them into performance. For many of these girls, they are the first in their family to attend secondary school, English is not their first language, and some have left their home and community to be part of the college. Kostich has framed their stories with the 12 tests of strength from the classic Herculean myth, allowing their determination and resilience to shine on stage.

There are understandable nerves and hesitance in every young face here likely unfamiliar with the stage. Though they sometimes needing coaxing or reminding of what comes next, these twelve brave girls tell us what challenges them, tempts them, the many differing trials and tribulations they have overcome, and how they will thrive and survive into the future. It is a very personal journey – we the audience are privileged to hear their truths.

There are so many very simple but very clever devices used to theatricalise their storytelling, masterfully integrated by Nadja Kostich and the cast. Use of projection, material and choreographed gesture helps to engage us and physicalise their words. The stories are further enhanced with the set of beautiful sheer black sails by Emily Barrie, and evocative lighting by Rachel Burke and John Ford which fuses traditional par cans with futuristic neon bars hanging overhead. There is a very real depiction of these girls learning to “walk the two worlds” of the “parallel realities of Aboriginal lore and Western culture” (Kostich).

This hour of smooth and peaceful storytelling shines with authenticity, in a harmonious blend of tradition and modernity. Each individual Herculean feat is steeped in ritual, pride, and courage, which makes for a fascinating and important contemplation.

Runs until September 7th at St Martin’s Youth Theatre.
Tickets: https://stmartinsyouth.com.au/project/Strong-Girl