Melbourne
Festival, St Martins, Fraught Outfit and Theatre Works Present:
The
Bacchae
Conceived by
Adena Jacobs and Aaron Orzech
Music
Composition – Kelly Ryall
Dramaturg –
Aaron Orzech
Musical
Director – Danielle O’Keefe
Lighting
Designer – Danny Pettingill
Costume
Designer – Chloe Greaves
Set Designer
– Dayna Morrissey
Performed by
St Martins Teen Ensemble: Bonnie Brown, Tove Due, Eve Fitzgerald, Anouk Gleeson
Mead, Cindy Hu, Maima Masaquoi, Romaine McSweeney, Eve Nixon, Bridie Noonan,
Lois Scott, Mieke Singh Dodd, Carla Tilley.
Music
Performed by:
Freya Boltman
– Vocalist
Julian De
Marco – Boy Soprano
Nicholas
Dugdale – Boy Soprano
Xiao Xiao
Kingham – Pianist and Organist
Sarah Lee –
Violinist
Bella Noonan
– Vocalist
Zofia
Witowski Blake –Vocalist and Percussionist
Lier Deng –
Violin
Lara Stebbens
– Cello
Kelly Ryal –
Electronics and Sound
Theatre Works
8 – 24 October 2015
A strong
sense of danger and menace lurks in this courageous contemporary interpretation
of The Bacchae. It is a vital production, performed in raw
and natural way, without artifice, by girls and young women from St Martins
Youth Arts Centre. It is apparently the culmination of the results of these
young performers being empowered and supported to self-devise around the ‘adult
themes’ of The Bacchae.
Euripides’s
original is an Ancient Greek Play that was first performed in 405BC. Put very simply it looks at the conflicting
sides of man’s nature – the controlled and organized, verses, the passionate
and hedonistic as personified by the God Dionysius.
Andrea
Jacobson as Director achieves in subverting ways of seeing through carefully
managing the work with Dramaturg Aaron Orzech.
It is a fascinating attempt at communicating through a uniquely ‘feminine’,
and therefore a somewhat enigmatic, sensibility.
There is an
inference of youthful defiance in the performers commitment to the strong and
weighty fabric of the ancient material, along with their retuning of ‘the gaze,’
through blatantly watching the audience watch them, often in a hostile way. Refreshingly it never smacks of the actor
wanting to be approved of by their audience.
The evening
starts with two figures on stage, possibly a male being pleasured by a young
female – but no - it is Dionysius being born from the thigh of Zeus.
Sound
(Composition by Kelly Ryall and Direction by Danielle O’Keefe), although often
electronic, is live. Violin and voices
combine exquisitely. And the drum is
used skillfully to underscore and vibrantly energize as well as to highlight
and accentuate the perpetration of violence.
Tableaux and
images allow for individual interpretation, many of them are very simple but
loaded with social comment. For example
the only male performer, a very young person grabbing a can of coke and opening
it after sinking into a couch may as well be cracking a can of Victoria Bitter.
There are re-enactments of debasing sexual acts, imitation phalluses, an
expression of the abject in the form of gold paint and Santa even makes a
rather unpleasant appearance.
These young
women morph form gawky kids to temptresses and everything in between and
beyond. In doing so they remind us just
how complex, clever and sensitive young people are. And how they are emerging into a treacherous
world where their individuality is threatened through being overtly sexualized.
The evening
concludes with the lyrical touch of an inflated Theatrical Mask, of a happy
comic mouth with a Greek flavor (pardon the pun) with a large lascivious
tongue.
I felt an acute similarity with Gob Squad and CAMPO's Before Your
Very Eyes that came to Melbourne
for the Festival in 2012. A kind of
amazing trust and theatrical intimacy of watching young performers communicate,
with adult audiences, from a natural and sincere place.
Somehow
through the sum of its various parts and after a pensive walk up and down
Acland Street from Theatre Works my specific, very strong and clear, take home
message was - as a community we need ritualized bacchanalian (Dionysian) festivals
to release some of the darkness in our natures in a safe and overt way.
Suzanne
Sandow
(For Stage Whispers)