...is out now, and features an interview with Melbourne author Christos Tsiolkas, as well as an exclusive extract from his new novel The Slap(out November 7 through Allen and Unwin). Other highlights in the issue include an interview with Malthouse maestro Michael Kantor and - if you're in the mood for a holiday - a sneak peak at Adelaide's queer Feast Festival; while our visual spotlight in this issue is on the beautifully visceral art of Sam Jinks.
I've decided to get with the hirsuite crowd next month, and have signed up for Movember. Come Saturday 1st of November, I'll be shaving myself smooth then seeing what sort of hairy growth I can encourage on my upper lip over the following weeks. And yes, I promise to post photos as we go so you can track the development of my brand new mo (I'm thinking a waxed, melodrama villain style mo might be the go, but that might be too ambitious: we'll just have to see what I can cultivate in the time available...).
The money raised by Movember is used to raise awareness of men's health issues and donated to the Prostate Cancer Foundation of Australia (PCFA) and beyondblue - the national depression initiative. The PCFA and beyondblue will use the funds to fund research and increase support networks for those men who suffer from prostate cancer and depression.
Did you know:
* Depression affects 1 in 6 men....most don't seek help. Untreated depression is a leading risk factor for suicide. * Last year in Australia 18,700 men were diagnosed with prostate cancer and more than 2,900 died of prostate cancer - equivalent to the number of women who will die from breast cancer annually.
To support my Movember fundraising experience, please go here and donate using your credit card or PayPal account; or you can write a cheque payable to ‘Movember Foundation', referencing my Registration Number 1529901 and mail it to:
Movember Foundation PO Box 292 Prahran VIC 3181
Remember, all donations over $2 are tax deductible.
Sad news, but not entirely unexpected: after three years in the TARDIS, David Tennant will step down at the end of 2009. Still, at least we have the Christmas Special this year, and four more specials next year before he goes...
And over here you can see the follow-up interview in which Tennant reflects on his involvement with the show, and talks about what's still to come.
So, who would you like to see as the next Doctor? Any takers for Russell Tovey...?
What does the Malthouse Theatre have in store for the first half of 2009? Michael Kantor spills the beans.
“It feels like it’s a season that is attempting, in some way, to respond to a very unstable world,” Michael Kantor says of the first of his two Malthouse Theatre seasons for 2009. “There’s a big focus on making sure we’ve found space to wryly sit back and laugh at ourselves.”
Kantor, the Artistic Director of the Malthouse, has programmed nine productions for the first half of 2009, including three world premieres of new Australian works, and three Malthouse Theatre commissions. Central to the season is playwright Tom Wright’s Optimism, a reworking of the classic satire Candide by the French writer Voltaire.
“This great story … was a satire about the nature of optimism, and yet 350 years later we’re sitting thinking ‘How can we continue to feel optimistic?’ It’s still the same question, because there’s a natural desire for optimism,” Kantor says.
“It’s something that’s always intrigued me, because I’m naturally an optimist, and yet every indication around us should be proving to us again and again that there’s no reason to be optimistic, really, and that things end badly.
“It’s a wonderful story to look back on because its last line is the very famous Voltairean line, which is open to a lot of analysis: Candide, after seeing all the worries of the world and thinking about what is the best possible of all worlds, simply says ‘We must cultivate our garden’, which is exactly right in my mind.”
But not every work Kantor has programmed for 2009 is so cheerful.
To be staged in the Malthouse’s Tower Theatre (an intimate space created for more experimental works) Adam J.A. Cass’ I Love You, Bro is a one man play about obsession, desire and the internet. Based on a true story, the play explores the double life of ‘Johnny Boy’, a teenage chatroom junkie who conspires to murder himself.
“It’s a devastating little piece,” Kantor observes. “It’s a really bizarre and macabre story, but it also talks about how we’re increasingly interacting with each other through mediums that allow for huge subterfuge, and which can be very dangerous, with all the pretence that’s possible through electronic relationships.”
Unsurprisingly, the first half of 2009 also continues Kantor’s exploration of non-text based theatre, including a new focus on dance.
“Dance Massive is something that we’re doing with Arts House and Dancehouse; and I think it’s great for us to focus for two weeks on just celebrating that extraordinary thing, which is the absolute vibrancy of Melbourne’s contemporary dance scene,” he explains.
As part of the collaborative Dance Massive programme, which is also supported by Ausdance Victoria, the Malthouse will be presenting Rogue, a triple bill featuring recent graduates from the VictorianCollege of the Arts.
“We’re hoping to make this a biennial or even annual focus, and built it into a kind of important festival in the process of how Melbourne interrelates with its art,” Kantor says.
Recent Malthouse productions, such as last year’s Sleeping Beauty starring Renee Geyer, and more recently, Vamp,have included a strong musical element, and in 2009 this continues with a new production of Georg Büchner’s modernist classic, Woyzeck, starring You Am I’s Tim Rogers, with music composed by NickCave and Warren Ellis.
“I think there’s a little NickCave revival going on at the start of next year. He’s doing a tour, he’s doing that big concert that he’s curating up at Mount Buller (All Tomorrow’s Parties), and then in February we’re doing this work with seven new songs by Nick Cave which no-one’s heard.
As you might know, I've moved over from editing the weekly LGBT newspaper MCV to heading up a brand new fortnightly arts and entertainment magazine called CANVAS.
It's both an arts magazine and a gay magazine, but it's not capital G gay. Think of it as an arts magazine with a queer sensibility, if you like, rather than a magazine about gay art. Quite apart from the fact that there's not enough gay art out there to warrant such a narrow focus, my guidelines for the inclusion of anything in CANVAS are about quality, not sexuality. If it's good art, I'm interested.
Two issues of CANVAS have been published to date, and so far the feedback from both the arts sector and the queer community has been extremely positive. The new issue hits the streets this Thursday, so please check it out - especially if you're a fan of contemporary Australian fiction...
And hey, if you run a gallery, or an artist-run initiative, or maybe a theatre company, please please please think about taking out some advertising in CANVAS. I want this new magazine of mine to reflect and support the diversity of Melbourne's creative communities, but to do that I'll need some reciprocal support, you dig?
Creating a brand new publication from the ground up is not exactly a simple task, and certainly I would have liked more time to develop the magazine, to plot and plan its design, its audience and its content; but that said, I have to say I'm pretty bloody happy with the results so far.
You can check out the CANVAS website here; alternatively you can examine each issue page by page, should you prefer, which will not only let you digest the content, but will provide you with a sense of our emerging design template. Things aren't prefect yet - we're still tweaking and exploring and experimenting - but we're getting there.
Issue zero - the teaser issue - can be viewed here; while issue #01 - featuring a special look at the forthcoming Rennie Ellis exhibition at the NGV, as well as an interview with queer American humourist David Sedaris, and a preview of the 2009 MTC season - can be read here. Enjoy!
And of course, feedback about either issue, and expressions of interest from would-be CANVAS freelancers, are always welcome: contact me at richard.watts@eevolution.com.au or via the website.
Thanks to excellent film blog My New Plaid Pants, I've just discovered that producer par excellence Christine Vachon has greenlit a new film called Kill You Darlings, whichis based on a little known murder that helped catalyse the birth of the Beat Generation: the 1944 killing of David Kammerer by Lucien Carr, the youth Kammerer had ardently pursued (read stalked) for several years.
Both Jack Kerouac and William S. Burroughs were connected with the murder, indeed Kerouac was jailed as an accessory after the fact; an event which he touches on in both his first novel, The Town and the City, and many years later in The Vanity of Dulouz.
Interestingly, a novel which Burroughs and Kerouac co-wrote about that murder, And the Hippos Were Boiled in Their Tanks is about to be published by Grove Press next month.
Let's get one thing clear right from the start. My first ever international media junket was paid for by the 2009 World Outgames, with money provided by Wonderful Copenhagen, the city's official tourist body.
In return for flying me over for a crash course in cultural tourism and putting me up in an ideally-located boutique hotel, they want me to place articles about Copenhagen, the Outgames and the games' major cultural event - the OUTcities project - in both the LGBT and mainstream media. So I plan on doing just that. However, that won't stop me being frank and honest about my time there. If I had any negative experiences, trust me, I won't hold back from blogging about them.
But I don't think I really have anything bad to say about Copenhagen. My all-too-brief time there was, in all honesty, fan-fucking-tastic. I so didn't want to leave.
Anyway, that disclaimer aside, here are some impressions - and the occasional photo - of my four all-too-brief nights in the Danish capital.
THURSDAY OCTOBER 9
Flying in to Copenhagen airport from London, the first thing I noticed from above was a fuck-off big bridge stretching out across the ocean which appears to end in the middle of the water (I later found out it was the road link between Copenhagen and Sweden). Then you notice all the modern windmills along the coast generating electricity. Then you land. Bump. In my case at 7pm, but with any tiredness from my loooooong trip allayed by exhilaration at being on the other side of the world.
It cost me 235 kr (Danish krone, plural kroner) to get from the airport to my hotel, Hotel Twentyseven, in the centre of the city. Not somewhere I would have chosen to stay if I was paying my own way to be honest: backpackers are more my style (and price range). It has both a cocktail bar and an ice bar for fucks, and drinks ain't cheap in either, but what the hell; I wasn't paying for the room.
I quickly met up with Jennifer, the Australian freelance producer overseeing Melbourne's element of OUTcities who's here for the conference that my visit coincides with. We share a couple of (expensive) glasses of wine downstairs, and I learn that the city's name is pronounced Copen-HAY-gen; not Copen-HAAG-en, the latter being offensively similar to the German pronunciation; and given that the city was occupied by the Nazis during WWII, that's something to avoid...
After about an hour I decide to go for a short stroll before bed. I don't go far: down the street past a small square, down another, cobbled street between high, narrow buildings that looked distinctly medieval, and which opens out onto another square beside a canal. It all screams age and elegant atmosphere. Okay, I think to myself. I like this city already. Another 10 minutes later I've passed a large statue and found a huge square, and what I thought was the royal palace - I later discover it was, but it was the old palace, now occupied by the Danish parliament. Awe-struck and delighted, I stroll back to my hotel and fall into a deep and dreamless sleep...
FRIDAY OCTOBER 1O
...only to be woken by the sound of tolling bells at 8am. Rise and shine: help self to free organic breakfast buffet downstairs, and out into the city. As I'm not meeting my fellow press junket journalists (thought it turned out to be a journalist, singular) for a couple of hours, I have time to explore.
The first thing I discover is Copenhagen Town Hall, the source of the bells. A stately, authoritarian building overlooking the city square and guarded by stone walruses and god-knows-whats. Then I look for an ATM and try to withdraw cash from my savings account. Can't. Oh fuck. Start to worry about how the hell I'm going to get through the weekend seeing as my credit card is already maxed out. Decide I'll worry about that later.
Stroll around a bit more. return to hotel. Use free internet to discover I can't access internet banking either. Panic a little. Completely fail to realise that all I have to do is get a phone card and call the usual telephone number I use here in Melbourne for telephone banking, transfer cash from savings to credit card, and all will be okay. Eventually think of this solution at Heathrow Airport on Monday, while returning home. Doh!
Shortly afterwards am met in the hotel foyer by the urbane, informed and charming Erik Madsen, a former high-ranking member of the Danish Department of Foreign Affairs, now retired, who is volunteering with the Outgames and is coordinating the press tour. He introduces me to the other journalist on the trip, from Mexico City; gives me my itinerary and a huge dossier of media releases, flyers and other info compiled by Wonderful Copenhagen; and - oh bliss oh joy - gives me a crisp 500 kr note to cover last night's taxi from the airport, and the taxi I'll have to catch back out there on Monday morning.
Finances sorted, it's time to get down to business. First things first: wheels.
Copenhagen is one of the most bicycle-friendly cities in the world: the roads are constructed in such a way that the bike lanes are physically separate from the car lanes; raised up above the level of the road so that even a non-cyclist like me quickly felt at ease. I was constantly struck by the lack of cars on the road and the vast number of bikes parked casually all over town. And where the bike lanes cross over intersections there are clearly designated paths across the tarmac showing you where to go; and even separate traffic lights for bikes, cars and pedestrians respectively. Brilliant. It wasn't long before we were confidently whizzing around the city on the bikes Erik hired for us for 400 kr for three days from KøpenhavnsCyklerApS ( Reventlowsgade 11, 1651 København) located in a street beside the main Copenhagen Railway Station.
Said bicycle hire place is, it must be said, located right at the edge of Copenhagen's red light district, and virtually next door to what I think was a homeless shelter and/or methadone clinic, judging from the number of obviously homeless guys and junkies standing around in the street outside, but it didn't feel at all threatening; though it might be a different story at night.
Then Erik took us into the red light district, which is very small - don't expect a Danish version of Amsterdam's notorious red light district; this is more akin to the sleazy end of Melbourne's Swanston Street!
Next, in quick succession, it was on to the Copenhagen City Museum, the Danish Design Centre (did you know that design and fashion are considered among the most prestigious industries to work in, in Denmark? Me neither, til last week.) and then on into the old city: up narrow streets where cars gave us right of way; stopping off briefly at an amazing cake shop, La Glace, founded in 1870; past the University of Copenhagen, founded in 1479, and on to - and up - Rundetaarn, the Round Tower: the oldest functioning observatory in Europe, from which you get a fantasticview of old Copenhagen.
Here's a photo of the Round Tower: it's not one of mine, though.
Next we had a late lunch with Henrik Thierlein, the international press officer at Wonderful Copenhagen, at Cafe Oscar, a popular gay cafe. Henrik, who's quite a character, shouted us lunch: in my case three traditional Danish open sandwiches topped with roast beef, egg and shrimp, and potato and bacon, respectively. Together with a glass of wine, they went down very easily!
Thereafter it was back to the hotel to change, and onwards to the Town Hall, for a formal reception for all the international OUTcities delegates from cities such as Tel Aviv, Rio deJaneiro, Mexico City and Melbourne - sadly Reykjavik's delegates had to pull out due to their country's financial meltdown - as well as Denmark's second largest city, Aarhus. Not only was Copenhagen's Mayor of Culture, Pia Allerslev (the city has several deputy mayors who are dubbed 'mayors' of their respective departments) in attendance, but so was the Australian Ambassador to Denmark, Ms SharynMinahan, as well as the Mexican Ambassador and other dignitaries!
At this stage, things really started feeling surreal.
Formalities were thankfully brief, and after about an hour the reception wound up, and those of us who were present for the OUTcities conference - about 25 of us in total, including the Outgames organisers - trouped off through the city for a relaxed dinner at a very pleasant restaurant, Madklubben (Store Kongensgade 66, 1264 København). While I would have loved to have spent the evening drinking, eating and getting to know the Outgames and OUTcities crew better, I left soon after the main course was served.
I was, after all, working. And given that I plan to write at least a couple of articles about Copenhagen's cultural highlights, I wasn't going to let this night of nights go to waste. You see, Friday October 10 was KulturNatten (Culture Night)!
KulturNatten is an annual event that sees Copenhagen's cultural venues - 300 of them - throw open their doors until midnight, simultaneously programming a vast and fascinating array of events and activities. (You can read one tourist's experiences of this year's Culture Night here.) It's been running for about 15 years, and is overwhelmingly popular. It was like being in Melbourne on the night of the Grand Final, but instead of pissed footy yobs staggering through the streets there were throngs of art-lovers, average families, huge groups of friends, excited teenagers, elderly couples and more. Provided you purchase a badge (at a cost of 75 kr - approx €10 or AUS $20) entry is free to everything on offer, as is public transport. It's an amazing night. Just stunning. This is one of the photos I took on the night, which should give you some idea of how the city was transformed on this particular evening:
Leaving the restaurant, I retraced our party's steps to the hotel to change out of my formal attire. On the way, I stopped off at a church that had been been converted into the contemporary art gallery Kunsthallen Nikolaj, as the Outgames' cultural programme manager, the lovely Jane Rowley, had recommended a work of video art that was screening there. I'm so glad I took her advice.
Split across three screens, Romantic Delusionsby the Danish artist Jesper Just is an exploration of gender, identity and the fragility of masculinity enacted by Udo Kier. Operatic in its intensity, and coupled with a haunting and evocative score, it's a stunning meditation on impermanence and decay. (Melbourne readers can see some earlier Just works at the current ACCA exhibition, Intimacy, now showing until November 30.)
After changing, I jumped on my bike and happily and slightly tipsily cycled through the busy city centre back to the Copenhagen City Museum. As I'd told Erik that I was keen to see some local bands during my visit, he'd asked around, and discovered that two young indie pop outfits were playing at the Museum for Culture night: Messy Shelter and Jong Pang. While I missed the first band by about 20 minutes, I caught most of Jong Pang's set - which was performed in an 18th century ballroom on the top floor of the museum, and featured a piano, cello, guitars and carefully harmonised vocals.
Afterwards I seriously considered swinging past the Danish Design Centre, where Trentmoller was playing a set, but I was pretty certain it would be a capacity crowd; on top of which I hit a wall, very rapidly deciding that sleep was the most sensible option - especially as I had two more tightly scheduled days to come!
To be continued....
(This was supposed to be a brief post - it's taken me four hours to write so it's probably full of tense changes and spelling/grammatical errors. Stuff it!)
Some three weeks ago, my already hectic life went supernova. It was Tuesday September 23, the Melbourne Fringe Festival was in full swing, and I'd just put that week's issue of MCV to bed. Dragging my weary self home, I found an email from the City of Melbourne waiting for me in my inbox, asking me to call a certain number ASAP.
One short phone call later, I learned I'd been nominated by the committee steering Melbourne's participation in the OUTcities project (part of the cultural stream of the 2009 World Outgames) as their journalist of choice to participate in a three-day press tour to Copenhagen, the games' host city. Copenhagen had suggested a journalist from The Australian, but the steering committee had suggested me, given my strong ties to both the queer and the arts communities. To say I was flattered would be a major understatement. But more importantly: would I accept the nomination?
Damn right I would!
There was just one problem: the press tour was scheduled for a date in October to be determined, and I was heading off to Morocco on the annual Triple R/Intrepid Travel tour on October 20. I was told we could work around that, so I said yes.
One day later, the Outgames team emailed me to say they'd accepted my nomination, and that they'd be in touch with the details of the trip in due course. So far, so good.
One week later, my publisher offers me my ideal job: would I like to step away from editing MCV after 18 months at the helm, in order to create a brand new, fortnightly arts magazine for Melbourne's LGBT community? Hell yeah!
This is where things started to go a wee bit pearshaped.
My deadline for the first issue of the new magazine, which I've christened CANVAS, was very tight. Simultaneously, it rapidly became apparent that taking the 17 days leave necessary to visit Morocco would just not be possible; not if I was going to take my new role and my new magazine seriously. The clincher was another email from the Outgames asking me to fly out to Copenhagen in just under two weeks.
Result? I'm not going to Morocco; another Triple R broadcaster, Breakfaster Sam Pang, is going instead of me. Instead, I put the first, teaser issue of CANVAStogether in record time; and also the first issue proper less than one week later. It's a fortnightly magazine by the way: check it out, I'm extraordinarily proud of it.
And then, last Wednesday at midnight, I flew out to Copenhagen via Hong Kong and London. It was my first visit to the Danish capital, and god I can't wait to go back. But you can read all about that in the next post...
Airports, during stop-overs between flights, are a curious Limbo; full of - on the one hand - bright-eyed and excited tourists about to disembark on a Great Adventure (tm); but also the sunken-eyed, haunted-looking travellers like me, who are caught in the closest I've ever experienced to a black hole while awaiting a transfer between Hong Kong and home.
Still, it could be worse. The cute early-20s something guy near me just slumped onto the bar and started sobbing. Either that or snoring. It's hard to tell. Maybe I should buy him a drink and find out?
Hmm. No. Unshaven and sunken-eyed as I am, I probably look more like a serial killer than a prospective shoulder to cry on, let alone a romantic knight in shining, slightly jetlagged armour.
But anyway. Copenhagen was fantastic. A beautiful city, populated by warm and lovely people. I can't wait to go back. That said, given that I expressed similar sentiments and wishes about A) Glasgow, B) Dublin and C) Amsterdam in 2005, and I've yet to find the time and more importantly the finances necessary to allow me to return, we'll just take the above comments with a pinch of sodium chloride, shall we?
A full update (with pictures, dear devoted reader - aren't you just a-thrill with the thought at viewing my holiday snaps?) will be posted upon my return to Melbourne. Not immediately though. I'll be home in about nine to ten hours, but I think a shower and a good night's sleep in my own bed will be my first priority, rather than a long and detailed blog post about my experiences over the last few days of travel, bike-riding and Outgames conferencing.
One last observation about Hong Kong airport though: bloody Facebook is bloody blocked on this computer terminal! How am I supposed to cope with that? Oh the pain, the pain...
Flying out of Tullamarine shortly after midnight after a frantic afternoon trying to put the editorial content for issue #1 of Canvas to bed is perhaps not the best way to kick off a four day media junket to Copenhagen, but is (perhaps appropriately) indicative of the manic nature of my life...
So after four and a half hours sleep and a 14 hour day at work, I had an eight hour flight to Hong Kong (for a 45 minute stop-over: so frustratingly close to where Kerryn, an old friend lives, but completely unable to contact her - besides which, it was 6am local time when we landed in Hong Kong and I didn't think she'd appreciate a phone call at that hour!); and then another 12 hours to London for a one hour stop-over (again, so frustratingly close to another friend, Rick) before a quick jaunt across the North Sea to Copenhagen.
We got in at 7pm local time, and within 40 minutes I was checked into my hotel in the centre of the city, just around the corner from the main square and a five minute walk from the royal palace. I went for a short walk last night, and another walk this morning since I woke at 8am feeling remarkably refreshed; so consequently I can say with confidence that this is a beautiful, beautiful city.
There's just one fly in the ointment. I was so focussed on getting the magazine's editorial to bed before I left that I forgot about my finances; specifically that I can't actually access my bank account from here! The last time I was overseas I was casually withdrawing cash from ATMs using my credit card whenever I ran short, then topping up the account from my savings via online banking. Now, I realise that apart from the Danish bank notes I specifically organised for my taxi fare from the airport before I left, I only have about 50 kroner on me, which is not going to last very long at all! Added to that, I can't remember my online banking password. Shit, shit, shit!
Time to make an international call to Westpac, I think, to try and sort something out. Otherwise it's going to be an interesting couple of days with no money whatsoever... Lucky for me, my hotel provides a free breakfast and dinner buffet every day!
Mea culpa, mea culpa - the insanity which has been work over the past week and a half (ie creating a brand new fortnightly LGBT arts and entertainment magazine from the ground up within a single week) , plus planning for a very short notice trip to Copenhagen tomorrow (which I had less than a fortnight's notice of!) means that I haven't had time to blog regularly. For that matter I haven't had the time to see as many shows as I'd planned to either, dammit.
This two-man comedy show, built around a series of lists such as '10 alternate ways to start the show' and 'Members of the audience we'd like to do 'sex' with'was funny, engaging, and only very occasionally strained. Matt Kelly and Rich Higgins are already strong performers, with good rapport and an excellent 'warmly daggy' and 'sardonic straight man' vibe going on: given another year or two honing their writing and performance skills, they'll be amazing.
Oh. My. God. This show was amazing - definitely my pick as the best show I've seen in the Fringe so far. To call it 'just circus' would be like saying J.R.R Tolkien was 'just' a fantasy writer. A complex and intense show that played with ambient sound, lighting, comedy, fragility and one's sense of smell, as well as providing moments of tension, awe and sheer joy, and which I wholeheartedly recommend you see before it closes this Sunday. Promise me you will?
Four and a half gasps of awed delight out of five.
A deliberately low-fi, shlocky horror-comedy about a group of students making a film in a suspiciously abandoned Tasmanian town. Cue secret affairs, Evil Dead-style shennanigans, and attacking zombies. Not a great show - if nothing else it needed more blood - but certainly a fun one - and at only half an hour, what's not to like?
Though occasionally too self indulgent and self conciously intellectual for my tastes, there was much I enjoyed about this one-woman show at the Croft Institute. Inspired by a Celtic myth about the god who gives us our dreams, this show incorporated dance, performance and video projection to sometimes stunning effect: such as a sequence when a young woman danced (on stage) in awkward sync with her idealised self (projected behind her) at a party. The stories of a series of characters, including the god himself, were never quite as fully realised as they needed to be, which resulted in a lack of clarity and lucidity; but ultimately I Dream Angus conveyed both longing and dream-state confusion, and so in my book at least, was ultimately successful.
Three chin-stroking contemplative moments out of five.
Sadly, because of work commitments, I arrived late at this show in the festival club, and had to leave early to judge So You Drink? You Can Dance! at the Bella Union Bar, but what I saw, including Asher Treleaven's fashion tips, Sammy J's songs, Heath McIvor's puppetry, and Adam Hill's interactive crossword puzzle segment (thanks Adam - now I have be a column every five years until I'm 91) was as hilarious as it was shambolic. I'm so there in 2012 or is that 2013? I so failed maths in Year Nine!
Three and a half gales of laughter out of five.
Then there's also been The League of Shideshow Superstars. the Fringe Festival Trivia Challenge to the rest of Melbourne's arts and cultural organisations (won - again - by the increasingly bloated Comedy Festival team not that I'm jealous or anything), some stunning gigs and films in the festival club, and more more more. My wholehearted and utterly unbiased congratulations to the Fringe team - luv yr work!
Sadly I have to fly out to Copenhagen this Wednesday night (indeed, I should be packing instead of blogging), which means I'll miss the final weekend of Fringe frivolity and madness - but fuck it's been a good festival this year!
Another of the free (FREE!) events on at Fed Square as part of Fringe, this family-friendly show is a collaboration between one of Australia's leading parkour and free-running companies, Trace Elements, and South Morang's First Impressions Youth Theatre. The result is a fascinating display of athleticism and community cultural development presented by a combination of professional traceurs and amateur traceurs and traceuses, with video used to tell the story behind the show. While not quite as tight as the show by Team Loco which it follows up, in some ways Drop and Roll is even more engaging, as it shows that the skills on display can be cultivated by anyone, given time and dedication.
Written and produced byRebecca Cook, this show about an office drone at an ad agency who decides to try devoting his life to doing good unfortunately failed to engage or entertain me. The narrative was confusing, and its dramatic tone varied wildly; while the occasional moments where the cast burst suddenly into song struck me less as awkward and rather forced. Maybe you have to be a dog person to really like this show...
The creators of this show, Will Tait and Jodie Ahrens, have won plaudits and praise in recent years for developing a performance style which utilises all the senses, not just sight and sound. Having missed their previous show, Source/Sauce, I was extremely eager to catch their new Fringe show, which is staged in the garden of their own home. And god I'm glad I did. While there were some minor dramaturgical problems with the work the night I saw it, these are sure to be overcome as the season gets underway and the show itself gets tighter. In essence, Deceased Estateis the story of a house, as presented by the house itself. Instead of a straight-forward narrative, the show consists of fragments and impressions of memories, evoked using sound (hammering and sawing as the house is built), scent (Dettol), touch (a silk sheet) and by brief encounters with the men, women and children who once lived on the premises. Vivid and delightful; a triumph of imagination and emotional resonance.
Four ear-to-ear grins out of five.
Disclaimer: the views expressed in these reviews are personal, and not those of the Fringe Board or staff.
This free show, on as part of the Fringe programme at Fed Square, is TOTALLY BODACIOUS* and should be seen by all. As displays of physical prowess go - think backflips performed from the temporary platform created by the interlinked hands of two lithe and muscular blokes (note to self: don't drool)and forward rolls performed by two ace chicks off a head-high platform - it's fast-paced, spectacular, and is guaranteed to make you feel more unfit than you've ever felt in your life.
An unholy fusion of the lives of Adolph Hitler and David Hasslehoff that's performed by a cast of three with the assistance of some simply superb video projection (congrats to Anto Skene and Puck Murphy) this twisted piece of camp irony was outrageous and laugh-out-loud funny. It did seem to drag a little towards the end, so I think it might have benefitted from being maybe 10 minutes shorter (though this may also have been an opening night flaw, as I was told today the show ran overtime on its first night), but for the most part it's a very silly, very funny, and very wrong show. Special mention should be made of of Simone Page Jones and Exra Bix, who between them play a punishing range of characters, and do so with comic aplomb.
Three and half 'did he just say what I think he said?' gasps out of five.
The strictly limited return season of McClelland's mock lecture about pirates and piracy, complete with limes to ward off scurvy and wonderful props - puppets, forts, even a cannon (!) - was one of those shows I circled the minute I got my hands on the Fringe programme, and I wasn't disappointed. Having already seen the show once I was worried that it wouldn't live up to my memories of it, but I'm pleased to say it exceeded them. McClelland's awkward, endearing, slightly bumbling shtick isn't to every comedy fan's taste, but it definitely works for me. Arrr!
* Dude. You like, said, 'bodacious'. That's so awesome.
It never rains but it pours: in the opening days of The Age Melbourne Fringe Festival, my boss has asked me to take on a new project: the creation of a brand new fortnightly GLBT arts, lifestyle and entertainment magazine. I've agreed.
So, from Monday I'll be stepping across from being editor of MCV to editing this new, as-of-yet unnamed fortnightly magazine.
So, oh denizens of the arts worlds, what I want to ask you is:
What do you want to see in a new arts and culture magazine, which, though stylishly designed and catering for GLBT readers, is also envisaged as having a much wider readership?
3000 artists. Almost 300 shows. 19 days of arts goodness. What's not to love?
Yes, The Age Melbourne Fringe Festival kicks off in just one more day, and I can't wait! My copy of the programme is already thoroughly adorned with circled shows and hand-written exclamation marks and asterisks, and my diary is bulging with dates for the delights to come. It's my favourite festival in the world, and unlike other Fringe festivals around the planet, which predominantly feature interstate (hello Adelaide) or international guests (yes Edinburgh, I'm looking at you), the Melbourne Fringe consists almost entirely of shows and exhibitions and indefinable creative strangeness created by Melbourne artists.
It's an expression in art of Melbourne's creative and cultural soul.
As I said before, what's not to love?
There's wonderful comedy to be seen, such as Andrew McClelland's not to be missed special short return season of A Somewhat Accurate History of Pirates (1550 - 2017). There's the post-modern melange of psychosis and pop culture that is Tom Doig's Hitlerhoff; and the top secret soft assault that's set to unwravel across Melbourne on Wednesday, K2TOG.
Maybe you'd prefer a spoken word exploration of Madonna's Like a Virginalbum at Babble's Liner Notes; or the visual documentation of Melbourne's punk scene that is Punk - A Photographic Journey? What about having the dreams of a house brought to full, rich, touching-all-your-senses life, in the must-see, must-experience Deceased Estate.
And you can't go past the glorious Festival Hub and Club, where you can catch 64 events over 14 nights all in one compact North Melbourne precinct (a great introduction to Fringe for first-timers or the time poor - see a show, grab a drink in the bar, see another show or two all in the same night - even the same venue - thanks to the carefully scheduled programme); and more, more, more.
Circus! Visual art! Cabaret! Theatre. Artforms I can't begin to describe!
Yes I'm biased, I'm the Chair of the festival Board. But I loved the Fringe long before I was officially involved with the organisation. It offers audiences and artists alike the chance to take a risk, creatively; to expose yourself to artistic innovation and excellence and raw passion from professionals and first-timers alike.
So, seize the Fringe program in both hands and select, randomly or rationally - or perhaps best, a combination of the two - a range of shows across artforms and locations. What are you waiting for?
Go to www.melbournefringe.com.au to browse the programme and book tickets, or call the lovely crew in the ticketing office on (03) 9660 9666, or swing by the Ticketing and Info Centre at Federation Square.
And hell, if you find browsing through the festival guide and selecting a bunch of shows daunting, then post a comment below and I'll recommend something for you - hell, I might even invite you out with me for a night on the town!
Photographer Jill Greenberg, you're a bloody deadset legend! The above, photoshopped image is an outtake from a recent series of shots the US photographer took for Atlantic magazine. You can read the full story here...
Illustrator Maurice Sendak, author of the classic children's book Where the Wild Things Are, has publicly come out at the age of 80. In a New York Times interview, Sendak responded to the question if there was anything he’d never been asked. “Well, that I’m gay,” he answered. “I just didn’t think it was anybody’s business.” Sendak lived with Dr Eugene Glynn, a psychoanalyst, for 50 years before Glynn’s death in May 2007. Sendak said he never told his parents about his sexuality because he wanted to make them happy; and that he hadn’t come out when younger because the idea of a gay man writing children’s books would have hurt his career when he was in his 20s and 30s, the paper reported.
Two more brief impressions of some of the events I've attended in recent weeks (certainly more recent than the last post of this nature, which covered events that were staged up to two months ago). I think this should cover the majority of them, save for the latest, Vamp, which I'll cover in my next post.
Oh look, there have been a few events or occasions here and there that I won't be blogging about; the Victorian Premier's Literary Awards, for example (I was seated next to one of the Premier's police bodyguards; a big burly chap who didn't read much but who was an interesting conversationalist indeed - though I felt sorry for him that he had to sit through so many speeches at so many events just because he was babysitting Mr Brumby), and the wonderful launch of the 2008 Melbourne Fringe Festival programme (more of which shortly); as well as a disappointing film or two such as Hellboy II - The Golden Army, and a good film or two - such as the wonderful, animated memoir Persepolis, but you don't really need to know about them.
Do you?
BalletLab's AXEMAN LULLABY
Last year's BalletLab production was the inspired Brindabella, which you can read about here. This latest work was more inimate, but while it may have lacked the grand scale of Brindabella it was no less ambitious, as I have come to expect from choreographer/creator Phillip Adams (who I interview about the production here).
Inspired by Fred Schepsi's film, The Chant of Jimmy Blacksmith, this dance piece was a meditation on Australian colonial identity and the gothic tradition; and a physical exploration of the clash between Indigenous culture and European sensibilities.
Blood-red lights lit the hazy dance floor, which dancers then proceeded to tear up piece by piece (a literal depiction of the impact of European settlement on the environment?) as the ominous, metronomic sound of champion axeman Lawrence O'Toole (pictured) wielding his blades echoed across the set. A work replete with tension - generated by the presence of so many axes swung hynotically close to the dancers' bodies - and creating a palpable sense of drama, which the sound of woodchips spraying across the floor and the scent of freshly-hewn timber succinctly emphasised.
Women in ornate Victorian gowns drop casual racial slurs into their gossip. An Aboriginal dancer establishes a new tempo. Tension builds to a near hysterical pitch, and suddenly the film's explosive violence is screeened on the studio wall. For me this was the only off-pitch moment of the show, as if Adams was so attached to the film which inspired the work that he couldn't let it go, even though its presence felt almost irrelevent in this context. Finally, the dance reaches its end; the closing sequence promising a calmer future; evoking closure, completion, the end of the cycle.
An inspired work.
Tiny Dynamite Theatre's THE LONESOME WEST
The cavernous space of Theatreworks, in which this play is staged, works against the success of The Lonesome West right from the start, reducing what could be an enjoyably intimate, oppressive and claustrophic experience into something much less memorable. Director Gorkem Acaroglu's choice to emphasise the comedy at the sake of the darker emotions which run through this play also detracts from what could be a masterpiece of black humour spiced with the ever-present threat of violence.
The last in a trilogy of plays by Martin McDonagh set in the small town of Leenane, on the isolated west coast of Ireland, The Lonesome West centres on two brothers who hate each other yet who are forced by circumstances to live under the one roof. Valene Connor (Luke Elliot, pictured above, left) is a miser who has returned home only recently; Coleman Connor (Ben Grant, pictured above, right) has lived in the village his whole life, until recently with his father, from whose funeral he has just returned at the start of the play, accompanied by the local priest, Father Welsh (Mark Tregonning).
Welsh is something of a broken man; an alchoholic who is struggling with his ministrations in the violent village ("The murder capital of Europe") and who sees the feuding brothers as his last chance to succeed in his posting.
The fourth and final character in the production is Girleen (Gemma Falk), the teenager who keeps the brothers supplied with poteen (a highly potent triple-distilled liquor, often akin to moonshine), and whose motivations and desires only become clear as the play unfolds.
The tension and chemistry between Elliot and Grant is superb, though as previously mentioned, the production focusses more on the comedic aspects of their relationships rather than the violence; and Tregonning successfully presents the conflicted and tragic aspects of his character. But while these three do well, and also credibly maintain their thick west Irish accents, I was much less impressed with Falk, who brought little in the way of credible emotion to her role.
This lack of emotion was, for me, the production's greatest flaw. Not once did I get a frisson of fear or impending violence as the play unfolded; and while there is humour-aplenty in the work, it seemed emphasised at the expense of the play's blacker moments. Certainly The Lonesome West is far from being a bad production, but it struck me as a play that could and should be much, much better. The Lonesome West is presented by Tiny Dynamite Theatre and is now showing at Theatreworks until September 21.
Hoorah! I've been verbally spanked by Sydney's version of Andrew Bolt, the conservative sexual predator Mr Piers Ackerman, over my part in awarding the John Curtin Prize - the Victorian Premier's Literary Award for Journalism - to Richard Flanagan for his passionate polemic in The Monthly last year. Finally, I can die happy!
In its 150th year, is the AFL finally ready to deal with the poisonous presence of homophobia? Richard Watts reports.
Photo Credit: Wikipedia
According to Australian Football League (AFL) Media Manager Patrick Keane, the AFL’s existing rules and codes of conduct are more than adequate to police a case of harassment on the basis of sexual orientation, should such a situation ever arise.
“In terms of Rule 30, which is called ‘Racial and Religious Vilification’, under the terms of that, a person can lay a complaint on any form of abuse or harassment that’s directed towards them, which includes someone who abuses or harasses you for your sexual status,” Keane explains.
That may be the case, but it’s also true that the AFL rule in question makes no mention of sexual orientation; instead referring only to ‘conduct which threatens, disparages, vilifies or insults another person on the basis of that person’s race, religion, colour, descent or national or ethnic origin’.
Conversely, the AFL Player’s Association (AFLPA) specifically acknowledges sexual orientation in its Code of Conduct.
‘AFL Players must not vilify other AFL Players on the basis of their race, religion, colour, sex, sexual orientation or other related characteristics,’ item 3.4 of the Code states. The Code also prohibits AFL players ‘from making public comment that vilifies or tends to vilify persons on the basis of their race, religion, colour, sex, sexual orientation or other related characteristics’.
Dr Pippa Grange is the AFLPA’s General Manager for Psychology, People and Culture. She believes that acknowledging issues of sexuality such as discrimination and vilification are important to both the AFL and the AFLPA, but recognises that the AFLPA have “perhaps gone a little bit further in being explicit about it”.
That said she’s also aware that there’s much more that needs to be done on the issue.
“We can get more explicit in the way we air topics around gender diversity and sexual preferences ... I think that any topic that involves diversity comes from a core value of respect, and when we talk to players about any of these topics more broadly, we’re coming at it from that angle; but we don’t do anything specifically to educate or raise awareness of diversity around sexual preference or gender diversity, and that’s possibly something we can look at, moving forward,” she explains.
Grange’s enthusiasm for fostering acceptance of sexual diversity among the AFL’s playing body is tempered, however, by her awareness that a culture of homophobia exists to some degree within football circles.
“Individually, when I speak to players one on one or in small groups, they’re really very tolerant. I haven’t seen examples of overt, explicit or spoken homophobia,” she says.
“However, the cultural, traditional norms that the whole group espouse are something different. I do think that homophobia is alive and well in AFL football - as in any groups of Australian males, particularly in traditions where the whole part of you being involved in it is the gaining of masculine capital. It is there, but I don’t think it’s implicitly stated, and I don’t think it’s deeply held by the individuals.”
However, Grange is also quick to point out that generalising about AFL players as a whole – such as suggesting that they are all homophobic, based on the words or deeds of one or two individuals – will not help anyone.
“What happens then is that [the players] withdraw their voice from the conversation; I think it could be a really powerful voice, and I really hope that on the whole we’re able to use the players’ voice for any role-modelling, and any power that the brand of AFL football has, in a really positive way, rather than as a negative label being applied to the players,” she concludes.
Grange’s perspective on homophobia in football culture is not shared by AFL Media Manager Patrick Keane.
When asked if the AFL has even a slight problem with homophobia, he replies simply: “No, we don’t.”
Nor will Keane speculate, when invited to do so, as to why Britain’s Football Association sees homophobia as a problem, whereas the AFL does not.
“I can’t speak for the British Football Association, only the AFL,” Keane said.
When asked to conjecture, he replied shortly, “No”.
On its website, The Football Association (The FA) states that: ‘Male or female, an individual’s sexual orientation should never be a barrier to people taking part in – and enjoying – our national sport … As the guardian of the game in this country, The FA is uniquely placed to tackle issues such as homophobia … we can – and will continue to – amend the laws of the game to outlaw homophobic behaviour.’
The AFL, meanwhile, shows no such commitment, as illustrated by its response to the case of Ken Campagnolo (a Victorian football trainer who was sacked by the Bonnie Doon Football Club when his bisexuality was made public).
Keane agrees that the AFL is the peak body for football in this country, but says of the organisation’s response to Campagnolo’s sacking and ongoing discrimination claim: “That does not mean we are responsible for the actions taken by another person at another completely different level of football.”
As the peak body then, does he believe that the AFL has a moral obligation to lead other clubs?
“Yes, and we believe we do that,” Keane replies. But when asked if the AFL’s response to Ken Campagnolo demonstrates moral leadership, Keane can only repeat, “I said, we believe we do that”.
While the AFL is dragging its heels on this issue, other members of the football fraternity are adamant that the sport has a moral obligation to tackle sexuality-based discrimination. One such man is Eddie McGuire (pictured), the influential President of the Collingwood Football Club.
“The one thing that we are is the club for anyone who feels disassociated. We don’t care what your race, religion, sex or sexual orientation is - we believe absolutely in tolerance and respect and empathy,” McGuire tells MCV.
“We won’t tolerate – as long as I’m president of the club anyway – we won’t tolerate any form of discrimination.”
In terms of fighting homophobia, the Collingwood President compares the issue to the AFL’s successful battle to eliminate racism from the game.
“I refer it back to the same principles as tackling racial vilification – when we started to tackle racism, I had a lot of people come up to me and say ‘Thank god we’re doing this: I used to shout racial abuse because I thought it was what you were supposed to do, but I didn’t really believe it’. It’s the same classic pack mentality in regards to sexual orientation, and football should be leading the way in that regard,” McGuire concludes.
This article originally appeared in MCV #400, accompanying an article by Doug Pollard in which he compares the steps taken by Britain's Football Association to address homophobia to those taken by the AFL. You can read Doug's article here.
