Atlantis

Of course it has a quirky and adorable set. It’s L Katz! Black glass floor, pastel walls giant round bed and window not sure what the crucifix is about can’t wait!

The show picks up where we last saw Lally. Onstage talking to NY psychics and drops us into the reason the show was so late. It opens up a whole world of emotions in me I’m 35. I don’t have kids and I want them. I’ve got Gav at least and thank God I lack her onstage naivety. 

She wonders after the break up spinning back to psychics and pseudo spiritualism in New York, running to Kansas to freeze eggs and holding the idea of a perfect Miami childhood deep beneath the waves submerged like Atlantis. 

Actors are superb. I can remember first seeing ‘Electra’ as Portia in Julia Caesar and loving her outside of all reason in an otherwise lacklustre show. In Atlantis her brilliance really shines through, each character distinct and clearly drawn. 

The Father

Running late doesn’t set you up for a great experience. I arrived red and puffing with my left calf threaten to cramp up, my seat was right in the back corner as close to the ushers as could be but luckily it’s previews so won’t be starting in time and Wharf 1 doesn’t have a bad seat in the house! 

Australian Grafitti

I really wanted to see this show. I’m always fascinated by the glimpse through other eyes in Theatre not made by or about white people but  I’ve found it difficult to collect my thoughts on this play. Still I’ll loose it to memory if I don’t write something down.

Wharf 2 is a really small space but it also isn’t. You can feel close to the actors but there is really quite a lot of us in here. The set is one long room. A high window on the left lets in dawn. A door bolted shut is set beneath it. Banquet chairs stacked against the wall. A few are set around a family table. A small cot in one corner beneath a small photo of someone the Thai king maybe. I can't make it out from where I am. Sitting at the table in one chair is a man. His head on the table. Asleep? Dead. He's the chef the head of the kitchen and the primary reason the restaurant, the family has been kept alive in Australia. Now he's dead. He caught something. Coughed and choked and died. No one knows what it was they couldn't take him to the doctor. No time. No papers.

We are far out west in a country town. The only non-whites here and unwelcome for it. The boy is a teenager and young still, this is for him. This slaving in a restaurant. For his future. This is for her. This slaving in a restaurant in a foreign land, sending money home, never seeing her. The mother, the owner is ridgid and stiff in all her movements. The couple who work in the kitchen are flightly and panicked. They fight and love and regret their daughter who they have not seen in so many years. He desperately wants to return to her. She does not.

Then it starts.

Someone has written a big black letter in paint on the wall of the church. A thai letter. The local police burst in. Aggressive and racist enough. The town already suspicious and unwelcoming, turn hostile. Throwing glances and bricks.

The mother pushes them all each night to prepare for a restaurant full of customers who never come. They rage against the futility but she pushes.

The dead chef, concealed in the family room throughout all of this, cajoles and whispers and instructs the young boy in life, cooking, family and the impossibility of escape.

There is a riot. They town comes to throw them all out and the young woman who has realised now that she is sick with whatever killed the chef leaves with them. A sacrifice. The burn the boy of the chef for they are Thai and escape into the night. To the next place. Or maybe to home. They lie to the man about where his wife has gone. The young boy meets the girl by the waterhole again. The girl who is the policeman's daughter. The girl who didn't want to be part of the riot but was. The girl who can't look at her village as beautiful anymore because she can't unsee what was always there but hidden. She will leave. She loves it but will leave it one day because she can't unsee the ugliness that was always there.

This play is so sinister in an almost supernatural way. It feels like racism is a malevolent spirit hovering over all of them. Igniting the town against them. Pushing them to turn on each other. The kindness of the dead chef in sharp contrast to the supernatural summoning of black paint on a church wall that everyone claims they aren't writing.

You do it all for your kids and then what? What do the kids do? All for theirs? Or does it stop here with this first generation? You give your life so theirs will be better but the same but a better same because you won't let them flex or change or leave. 

Mine

He's sleeping right now. I watched for a while. That's probably creepy. He's worked 13 days straight. Warehouse on week days then at the stall over Supanova then down to Zedtown Melbourne. 

I really love this man. 

11yearsin he looks different than when he was first acquired.  His hair is a bit longer and thinner, his beard is fuller, he's got lines around his eyes and his frame has acquired a pleasing squishyness. He credits me with his increased social abilities and confidence. Changes he made within himself that are for the better. But the heart of him is still the steady same. That is what I love. 

He has such capacity for love. Warts and all. He wants to know everything about what he loves, the good, the bad, the terribly gross and then he goes on to love it just the same as before. Not inspite of it's flaws or blind to its faults but completely as a whole flawed thing. Whether that's Star Wars, The Ramones, his somewhat alcoholic father or me. It's amazing the space he holds inside him for this love and the space he makes each time someone/thing new earns his love. 

He's so great at Change. Do you know anyone else on earth who being made aware/seeing their own faults would work to change them? 

Cloud 9

I love previews! The fresh feel of a piece as it unfurls itself for the first time, it's quivering hopeful face turned towards us begging for acceptance, love, understanding. I love when the director stands diffidently in front of us and begs our indulgance with any technical issues, offering their new baby to the light tender touch of its first audience. 

I'm not in love with the play. It's bleakly comic farce of Victoria's sexually repressed colonialism just makes me uncomfortable rather than amused or titilated. The actors are working up a sweat trying to keep the pacing going but it flags in places. the crashing blackness of scene changes are awkward, they merely highlight the difficult exits some characters must make. The difficult entrances of others and given the deftness of some of the changes with light (particularly 'boys best friend is his Mother') it leaves me wondering if some of the staging is still very much in flux at this point. Oh to have the funds to come back in the middle of the run and see it in full flight!

Act Two awaits! 

Also what's so awesome about glass boxes? I've yet to see one do anything. 

Better in act two. The box gave us some vignettes to setup characters and show us these actors we've come to know as new people. The blackouts while still as stark felt more in tune with this act. 

Victoria is my real problem in act two, it still feels like she's not acting for gelded but being pulled but others. 

Possibly overcommitted

Note: Do not do three shows at once.

Treehouse takes up plenty of time even when we aren't rehearsing on Sundays. Reedy River is going to be fairly bad and you knew that up front so why did you say yes to auditioning and then get sucked into the show and then further into the production team? Stupid. Must learn to say no. Now The 39 Steps. Yes you wanted to do this one a lot and were really hoping to get Clown 1 and it's a full month after RR performs that this is one but now they are adding in extra rehearsals and your life is already crammed full. Something's gotta give sometime soon and what if it is Gavin?

Shape up!

To the skies, sisters!

It seems that I must write down my thoughts and feelings about this weekend to properly process it all.

Red Sisters, Black Skies
It's funny how different but no less affecting my experience of this game was to other players. As the captain I deliberately kept myself aloof from everyone including my own section. I would walk through the base fretting about keeping our planes in the sky with so few resources and hear the others singing happy birthday to their comrades or scratching up a soccer game to keep their spirits up. I tore strips off Section C commander, R for allowing her section to take so much risks that they crashed a plan and nearly killed two of their best and secretly applauded her for inspiring Section C to carry on and complete all their missions without a full compliment of aircraft. I arranged missions and repairs, flew into the night, delivered good news and bad but I was never fully one of them. Still I ended up with tears streaming down my cheeks as I welcomed them all at the end of the game, I felt tied to their fates and responsible for their lives. I've been thinking about the game a lot over the last two day and I know it was the best LARP I have ever played in. I rarely experience bleed, something I attribute to my theatre background but I cannot stop considering what I might have done differently so that Section C weren't down a plane, so that my heartbreaking. brilliant and brave women didn't have to take to the skies during daylight, so that Regina wasn't lost, so that my Senior Lieutenants would never be burdens with the list of names I kept in my top drawer... To be honest I'm still thinking about it now.

I desperately want the game to run again and I want to die earlier. The interactions I had with players after my death when you are only a memory and can't directly answer questions only respond with a "scene" still play in my head. I  want more time with that mechanic and I want to know how the game would go if the situation got more darker and desperate and haunted. 

The Fall of House Atreus. 
GREEK TRAGEDY! I love it. Staring into Elektra's eyes not knowing if she still loved me, if she forgave me for marrying her sister and going to the front lines but desperately hoping she'd ask me for something, anything that I could do for her, anything that would keep us close for one moment more and being crushed when she asked for my sanity. Well really for Andromache who was helping me keep my sanity with haunting of my father Achilles getting worse everyday but you know in general still my sanity. But how could I refuse her?  So tragic, so tingly! Still I was determined to make my wife happy and so had decided that with my... issues I would encourage her to take a lover or perhaps because GREEK TRAGEDY I could trick her into sleeping with a man she thought was me and so she could be fulfilled with children and happiness in this way. Perhaps my old friends Orestes or Aegisthus could be so persuaded. That was the plan until I arrived home and my lovely wife began begging me to be more like Orestes and my dour Father-in-Law began demanding that I please her. Wasn't it enough that I was the manliest of men? Wasn't it enough that I lead my father's Myrmidons to countless victories? Wasn't it enough that I couldn't have the women I loved? When could I ever have what I wanted? When could I ever be whom I wanted?! But how could I betray that family that raised me? The man who avenged my Father's shade (probably)? Electra would never forgive me if I ruined her sister by putting her aside! So tragic, so tingly! Gods! And when the GMs start circling you as the ghost of Achilles when you are trying to have a pleasant conversation with your Mother-in-law...

Such a good game. I had a wonderful time playing with everyone, being manipulated and learning to do it myself, (At one point after I'd agreed to kill Menelaus, I was conversing with him and when I told him of something that could make his lady wife happy he asked me to do whatever I could, poor man couldn't know that he'd given me his permission to kill him!) and finally in the end somehow still a man and still trapped and still tragically alone. Brilliance! The fact that I keep replaying some of the conversations from this game and being thrilled by them is a total testament to the GMs and players.

I played other games this weekend and enjoyed myself in all of them but these two have really stayed with me.