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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 />

51

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