Lot's Wife Edition 8 2013
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PERFORMING ARTS<br />
MELBOURNE FRINGE<br />
FESTIVAL REVIEWS<br />
It’s Happening in the Space<br />
Between My Face and Yours<br />
Hannah Barker<br />
There is theatre that<br />
makes you want to see<br />
more theatre. There is<br />
theatre that makes you<br />
want to perform more<br />
theatre. There is theatre<br />
that makes you want to<br />
design more theatre. There is theatre that makes you want to write more<br />
theatre. Izzy Roberts Orr’s It’s Happening in the Space Between My Face and<br />
Yours is theatre that makes you want to do a little bit of each.<br />
When a young woman named Jack goes missing from her inner-<br />
Melbourne share house, her roommates are at a loss. They can’t contact<br />
their friend. They can’t pay the rent. They can’t resolve their various<br />
sexual tensions. They can’t deal with the vacuous RIP messages their<br />
acquaintances are posting on Facebook. They can’t ride their fixies too far<br />
at night, can’t roll their cigarettes, can’t fill the void. They can’t drink the<br />
soymilk because the replacement roomie is relentlessly stealing it. Said<br />
soy-thief can’t even describe the new musical direction his band is taking.<br />
Meanwhile, the audience is sporadically confronted by a sullenfaced<br />
Jack (Jennifer Speirs), back from beyond the grave to deliver<br />
ever-more graphic monologues on her experience of death. The stage<br />
is also flanked constantly by two ever-vigilant, ever-scathing ‘wolves’<br />
(Tom Molyneux & Meagan Lawrie), who wait their turn to spit threats<br />
and obscenities that embody the sense of fear permeating through the<br />
story. Mesmerising and penetrative, they might be distracting were their<br />
purpose not so emblematic.<br />
Co-presented by MUST and Spare Room, It’s Happening ran as part<br />
of the Fringe Festival at Sketch and Tulip Café/Bar in North Melbourne.<br />
The upstairs space lent itself to the dingy rawness of the show. Precarious<br />
piles of chairs in either corner of the stage sank into the brick backdrop<br />
seamlessly, and the transformative door cum table cum bed looked as if it<br />
belonged to the venue. Dim lighting threw appropriately eerie shadows<br />
across the floorboards, and across an LED sign to one side of the set ran a<br />
series of alternately lyrical and blunt observations relating to each scene<br />
(because what’s a Fringe show without a bit of Brecht?)<br />
First-time director Nick Fry, also responsible for the lighting and set<br />
design, deserves commendation for his efforts, and kudos similarly go to<br />
sound designer James Hogan, who successfully matched the audience’s<br />
eardrums and heart rates with the characters’.<br />
I’m not saying it’s the most polished piece of theatre – it’s not. Some<br />
scenes were rather clunky, and some characters appeared two-dimensional<br />
and under-developed. That said, the entire cast was infuriatingly attractive<br />
so I’m willing to suggest that these flaws were merely representative<br />
of the kind of ungainly squalor and haughty individuals that every good<br />
twenty-something share house encounters.<br />
Reeking of poeticism and finesse, the script was penned by the<br />
talented and charming Izzy Roberts-Orr, who, whilst gratified with the<br />
production, promises to take the show back to the workshop for reinvigoration<br />
before a second season sometime in the future or so.<br />
Surreal and visceral, It’s Happening in the Space Between My Face<br />
and Yours is at its core an exploration of sex and death, à la hipsterdom.<br />
The tagline says it best: “We love. We fuck. We live. We survive. We’re<br />
afraid.”<br />
Gouti: The God of Them All<br />
Hannah Barker<br />
I honestly do<br />
not have the<br />
words to accurately<br />
describe<br />
the spectacle<br />
that is Gouti:<br />
The God of<br />
Them All. A<br />
two-hour long<br />
combination of musical comedy and absurdist theatre, Gouti (pronounced<br />
GOO-TEE) is a strange, boisterous adventure among the mythical Spanish<br />
gods. It’s as charming as it is peculiar, and probably broaches some<br />
sincere issues to do with human eccentricity - but I just can’t be sure.<br />
Performed at The Owl and the Pussycat in Richmond, in a cramped,<br />
cement space (which is actually cosier that it sounds), Gouti’s cast members<br />
outnumbered the audience on the evening I attended (other nights<br />
were sold out, though). Despite the scale and flamboyance of the show,<br />
the intimate setting played to its advantage, heightening its melodrama<br />
and absurdism tenfold. It also allowed for close admiration of the array of<br />
crude and colourful costumes.<br />
LOT’S WIFE EDITION 8 • <strong>2013</strong><br />
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