Witness For The Prosecution - Canberra Repertory

Review by John Lombard

Leonard Vole (Cole Hilder) stands trial for murder, accused of killing a wealthy old woman who has left him a substantial inheritance.  The circumstantial case against him is damning but his pleas of innocence ring true.  Is he a calculating murderer or a victim of circumstance?

Witness For The Prosecution, Agatha Christie's follow-up to her super-successful The Mousetrap, is a play that has aged badly - not that it had much merit to begin with.  The play is clogged with exposition, endlessly sifts minute details, and hinges on absurdities that would be uncomfortable even in melodrama.

Fortunately the cast of this production are game, and like prospectors sift an unlikely soil for moments of fun and deeper resonance.  Insightful direction by Aarne Neeme has latched onto the gender politics lurking within the script, and the battle between men and women carried out in the play is often more engaging than the dull facts of the murder trial.

 Agatha Christie's characters are thumbnail sketches, rapidly recognisable types that help her plot-heavy novels crackle along without getting bogged down in elaborate psychology.  On stage, the same characters register as two-dimensional, forcing the actors to supply the depth that the writer has glossed over.  Through no fault of the actors, the central courtroom scene drags badly, with wrangling over shirt cuffs and voices heard through doors just homework that the writer is making us complete before we can get to the real fun that happens when Leonard's unpredictable wife Romaine (Emma Wood) finally takes the stand.

The play is in fact held back by its determination to be a murder mystery.  In the Christie style, with a little imagination anyone could be made out as the murderer - even the judge could secretly have a line in bumping off old ladies.  But because anyone could do it, none of the evidence really matters - after all, the facts can always be turned on their head by the next shocking revelation.  And since none of it really matters, having it fed to us in elaborate and exhausting detail becomes a chore, particularly when there are much richer and more interesting matters to explore.  I frequently felt like I was watching a reading of a novel that could be adapted into an excellent episode of Poirot - the play is simply in the wrong medium.

However the cast work with what they have, in some cases quite deftly.  Pat Gallagher is lively as Leonard's defender Wilfred Roberts.  His affectionate rivalry with opposing council Mr Myers (Peter Holland) becomes quite engaging, with the two scoring points off each other not like lawyers locked in battle but like gentlemen competing in a darts tournament.  Cole Hilder is likeable as the young man on trial for his life and we feel genuine sympathy for him.  Emma Wood meanwhile excels as his feisty wife Romaine, the noticeable age difference between her and her husband justified by her stand-out, firecracker performance.  The cast overall give engaging and believable performances.

Besides the obligatory murder mystery the play has a lot to say on the battle of the sexes.  The opening scene between servants Carter (Ian Hart) and Greta (Morgan Heath Williams) establishes the law as a stodgy, stuffy boy's club where the only choices available to women are servitude or anarchism.  Inevitably, the women choose anarchy, and when strong female characters such as Romaine and Alice Ferguson's servant/companion Janet take the stand they force their own rules on the bemused but nervous court.  The men who take the stand are much better behaved.

It's far from a feminist manifesto that dismantles the patriarchy - for the most part, the men are right and just - but awareness of what it is like to be a woman in a system run by men is what gives the script whatever freshness it has.  In one very funny moment the judge (Saban Lloyd Berrell) mansplains to the jury that a woman in her 50s could have any number of perfectly innocent reasons for reading literature where more mature women serendipitously bed young swains.  Moments like these are the play at its best.

Witness For The Prosecution is a weak play, a potboiler that has lost its flavour.  This production benefits from decent direction and casting, but the play itself is due for not so much for a revival as a remake.  One trick in the final act could be effective in a novel, but is genuinely confusing and distracting when played out on stage.  But that said, there were some gasps in the audience at the final reveal, so perhaps some audience members will plunge into Agatha Christie's trap.

The tragedy of Witness For The Prosecution is that it is actually a pretty good mystery, worthy of Agatha Christie at her sneakiest.  But as a play, it has the lukewarm recommendation that it is slightly better than The Mousetrap.  Aficionados of the Golden Age murder mystery will find a lot to enjoy; others may find the endless dithering about open windows and shirt cuffs trivial.  Detective fiction has moved on from this minute mystery sleuthing but this play is a relic from a different time.

THE MUSIC MAN

Book, Music and Lyrics by Meredith Willson. 

Directed by Joseph McGrail- Bateup,

Musical Direction by Zach Raffan. 

Choreographed by Kathryn Jones.

Presented by Queanbeyan Players.

The Q, Queanbeyan until 25^th June, 2016.

Reviewed by Bill Stephens.

Deana Gibbs (Marian Paroo) and the Pickalittle Ladies

Photo:Bec Doyle

First presented on Broadway in 1957, Meredith Willson’s charming musical fable tells the story of a community in Iowa, duped by a persuasive con-man, Harold Hill, (Gordon Nicholson) into buying instruments and uniforms to form a boy’s band. Hill’s plan comes unstuck when he makes the fatal mistake of falling in love with the town librarian, Marian Paroo (Deanna Gibbs). 

Fleshed out by an excellent score containing a succession of lovely songs, including the rousing “Seventy Six Trombones”, and a song made popular by The Beatles, “Till There Was You”, and what is surely the first rap-song to be used in a musical, “Rock Island”, as well as plenty of juicy character cameos for the large ensemble cast, “The Music Man” is an excellent choice for this latest production by The Queanbeyan Players.

Heading the enthusiastic, 50 strong cast, Gordon Nicholson, as the music man, Harold Hill, sings his songs well, especially “Trouble”, and “Seventy Six Trombones”, but elsewhere is surprisingly subdued. The show is called “The Music Man” after all, and that character needs to dominate. On opening night it was Deanna Gibbs, delightfully secure in voice and characterisation, who lead the show.

Deanna Gibbs (Marian Paroo) and Gordon Nicholson (Harold Hill)

Photo: Bec Doyle

Bill Lord as the bumptious Mayor Shinn, Kerry Warner as his attention-seeking wife, Eulalie, and Janet Tweedie as Marion’s mother, Mrs Paroo, get the lion’s share of the laughs, while Callum Doherty, as Marion’s lisping little brother, Winthrop, is delightful, especially in his big song, “Gary, Indiana”. Dan D’Abrera as Tommy, Emily O’Brien as Zaneeta, and Jeremy Brown as Charlie Cowell, all contribute strong performances.

Pretty sets and costumes, together with some nice touches by first time director, Joseph McGrail-Bateup, like having musical director, Zach Raffan,  discover a shining golden trumpet centre stage to commence  the show with a rousing trumpet solo, and the inclusion  of a reference to the famous painting “American Gothic” in the “Iowa Stubborn” number  add to the enjoyment.

The imaginative choreography by Kathryn Jones’s succeeds in making each dance number a highlight, particularly the spirited “Shipoopi”, which involved almost the entire cast in a sustained whirl of movement. 

Zac Raffan’s appropriately brassy big band took a little while to settle on opening night, leading to some very brisk tempi, but by second act was sounding so impressive that many members of the audience stayed in their seats  to listen to the play-out music.

First night nerves resulted in some pitch problems for the men’s quartet, and some of the scene changes for Ian Croker’s attractive settings could be smartened up, but over-all, this delightfully nostalgic production of “The Music Man”   is well on the road to becoming another triumph for The Queanbeyan Players.   

This review first published in the digital edition of CITY NEWS on 11.06.2016.

The Big Dry adapted from the novel by Tony Davis

The Big Dry by Mark Kilmurry, adapted from the novel by Tony Davis.  Australian Theatre for Young People (ATYP) at Ensemble Theatre, Sydney, June 4 – July 2, 2016.

Director: Fraser Corfield

Designers:  Production Designer – Rita Carmody; Lighting – Benjamin Brockman; Sound – Daryl Wallis.

Cast:      Jack Andrew (whom I saw) or Noah Sturzaker as Beeper
    Sofie Nolan as Emily
    Rory Potter as George
    Richard Sydenham as Rabbit Man and Man from next door.

Reviewed by Frank McKone
June 12


As I watched this post-apocalyptic scenario, I was reminded of the novel The Road, by Cormac McCarthy.  I found that work difficult to get through, because of its unrelenting grimness.  I haven’t read the children’s novel The Big Dry, but the relationship which develops between the girl, Emily, who breaks into the relentlessly sandstorm-blasted house, and the two boys she finds there, George – a young teenager like her – and his much younger brother nicknamed Beeper, makes the chance of humour, lively activity and even warmth of feeling seem possible.

I’m guessing, though, that Kilmurry has tried, in 75 minutes, to put in too many of the events in the novel, resulting in very short scenes between blackouts as the blasts hit the house again.  The developing relationship, from the time before Emily’s intrusion to her being blown away, and the boys’ decision to follow her, even though the man from next door has finally come to help; that development is pictured in brief snatches, little vignettes, which give us too little time to empathise or identify with the feelings of the three children.  The play becomes a series of plotted points, rather than an absorbing personal drama which engages us.

This is a pity, because Corfield’s directing of the scenes is very effectively done, and his three young actors Jack Andrew, Sofie Nolan and Rory Potter played very professionally (though I thought Rory needed to find more variety in voicing).

For an adult audience, I found myself looking for a different Irish comparison – with J M Synge’s Deirdre of the Sorrows – to turn the drama into something much more mythical.  Though Synge’s story seems nothing like Davis’s, in Ireland when the troubles cannot be overcome, the acceptance of death becomes mythologised.  It is often in the spirit of a woman that death appears to lead ordinary mortals away, and this is what happens in The Big Dry.

For the boys, Emily is both a source of life, offering George solutions to an impossible task and mothering Beeper.  But in the apocalyptic future – maybe at the extreme phase of the climate change we see beginning today – there is no final answer.  All the mythical figure can do is to provide, in her unseen death, blown away by the might of the roaring wind, just enough hope in the minds of the boys, though we know, and Rabbit Man knows, that wanting to find her can only lead them to their deaths.  Irishman Synge would do this using highly poetic language, in the Irish tradition, especially for the woman figure.  Here’s an example:

DEIRDRE (very quietly).  Am I well pleased seven years seeing the same sun throwing light across the branches at the dawn of day?  It’s a heartbreak to the wise that it’s for a short space we have the same things only.  Yet the earth itself is a silly place, maybe, when a man’s a fool and talker.
 



Though this level of drama may seem too much for a children’s play (if that was the intention of ATYP in this production), I can claim to have very successfully directed Year 8 students in Synge’s Riders to the Sea.  A novel is one thing, to read and let your imagination fly; but drama of the dread future of The Big Dry needs words of poetic power, far more than this adaptation offers.  With such poetry, I can promise the young actors so much more depth of experience for them to cultivate in their future careers.

A Man with Five Children by Nick Enright

A Man with Five Children by Nick Enright.  Darlinghurst Theatre Company at Eternity Theatre (39 Burton Street, Darlinghurst, Sydney), June 3-26, 2016-06-13

Director:  Anthony Skuse

Designers: Production – Georgia Hopkins; Lighting – Christopher Page; AV – Tim Hope; Sound – Katelyn Shaw

Cast:  Jemwel Danao (Roger); Chenoa Deemal (Jessie); Charlotte Hazzard (Susannah); Jody Kennedy (Zoe); Ildiko Susany (Annie); Anthony Taufa (Doug); Aaron Tsindos (Theo); Jeremy Waters (Gerry); Taylor Wiese (Cameron).

Reviewed by Frank McKone
June 11


Nick Enright was obviously from the generation fascinated, yet bemused, by the television series by Michael Apted: 7-Up.  That began in 1964 with a group of seven-year-olds representing the lower, middle and upper classes of Apted’s England.  It grew into interviews every seven years (with those of the original 14 who were willing) and you can read about the history up to 56-Up in London’s The Telegraph http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/culturepicturegalleries/9259901/From-Seven-to-56-Up-the-story-so-far.html

As in 7-Up, obsessive documentary maker, Gerry, in Enright’s play, first takes the children to the zoo.  However, he offers an interview each year on the same day, Australia Day, until they reach 21.

His five children represent something of the ethnic and cultural diversity of Australia, the play beginning life as “a workshop exercise with students at the Western Australian Academy of Performing Arts in 1998”, as Skuse notes in the Program.

Roger is Australian-born.  His father is a wealthy Malysian engineer; his mother a Philippina.  Jessie’s mother is Aboriginal – a Murri, with a strong public presence politically on Indigenous issues.  Zoe is a standard working-class Anglo with little interest in education; while Cameron (only known as Cam) is Zoe’s male equivalent.  Susannah is from a successful Anglo background, already wanting to be a doctor or a teacher.

Wikipedia reports “The premise of the film was taken from the Jesuit motto 'Give me a child until he is seven and I will give you the man', which is based on a quotation by Francis Xavier.”  Gerry quotes the same idea, with the twist that he wants to see what really happens.

But Wikipedia also reports “The Up series has been criticised by both ethnographers and the subjects themselves for its editing style. Mitchell Duneier has pointed out that Apted has the ability to assert causal relationships between a character's past and present that might not actually exist..... Apted has stated in interviews that his ‘tendency to play God’ with the interviews was ‘foolishness and wrong.’”  It seems to me that it was this concern that Nick Enright took up in his play.  What would be the real relationships between Gerry and his five children, which may or may not appear on the tv screen?

And so we see on stage the children with Gerry, or sometimes not, more or less at yearly intervals, including live video as he films them as well as recorded video as it appeared on tv.  Until at the age of 35, with Roger missing, killed by rebels attacking tourists in an Asian country, the remaining four, plus partners Annie (Cam), Doug (Zoe) and Theo (Jessie), make the decision not to go on with the project.

To attempt to tell the story of all that happens in two hours running-time (plus 20 minute interval) would not be sensible, but it is fair to say that concerns about Gerry’s intentions, motivations, demands, sexual relations and even mental stability become of as much interest as the lives of the children growing up. 

Though the play is never didactic – it plays like a social documentary – it certainly is about the ethics and integrity of this film maker.  And in being that, it for me raises concerns about the use of photos and videos, especially on uncontrolled social media platforms – something that Enright and his workshop students would have hardly thought of in 1998.  And this is apart from the power of money to insist on prurient excitement on television (such as in the latest Bear Grylls series of “reality” extreme risk adventure).

Acting and design is very effective in this production of A Man with Five Children, in making the rapid transitions between episodes at different ages and levels of maturity and understanding for each character – including the adult from the beginning, Gerry – especially taking into account that the actors appear both physically on stage as well as in close-up video, often of ‘themselves’ when younger when we watch them watching the recorded takes.

Wikipedia records that “Apted has said: ‘I hope to do 84 Up when I’ll be 99’”. Enright’s Gerry lasts only 28 years before his time is up.  But after all, that was to make 28 shows, while Apted’s only up to 8 so far with only 4 more to go, 7 years apart.  Perhaps the real film maker Apted will make it, while the fictional Gerry could only just make it up to age 59, according to my calculations.

Darlinghurst Theatre Company has a history from small beginnings in 1992 until now being permanently settled in the Eternity Theatre.  By now Executive Producer Glenn Terry might be feeling a bit like Enright’s Gerry, except that his ‘children’ are not giving up the project.  The next show (after you’ve made sure you see this one) is Broken by Mary Anne Butler which has won both the Victorian Premier’s Best Drama and Literature prizes.  July 29 to August 28.

All My Sons by Arthur Miller

Robyn Nevin and John Howard
as Kate and Joe Keller
in All My Sons

All My Sons by Arthur Miller.  Sydney Theatre Company at Roslyn Packer Theatre, Sydney, June 10 – July 9, 2016.

Director:  Kip Williams; Assistant Director – Elsie Edgerton-Till

Designers:  Set – Alice Babidge; Lighting – Nick Schlieper; Composer and Sound – Max Lyandvert; Voice and Text Coach – Charmian Gradwell.

Cast:  Toby Challenor or Jack Ruwald (Bert); Anita Hegh (Sue Bayliss); John Howard (Joe Keller); Bert Labonte (Dr Jim Bayliss); John Leary (Frank Lubey); Josh McConville (George Deever); Robyn Nevin (Kate Keller); Eryn Jean Norvill (Ann Deever); Chris Ryan (Chris Keller); Contessa Treffone (Lydia Lubey).

Reviewed by Frank McKone
June 11

Despite the brilliance of the acting – as we naturally expect nowadays from such a cast in this company – I found it oddly disappointing that my own amateur production of All My Sons (Broken Hill Rep 1965) had a better ending.  Kip Williams has so focussed the spotlight on the political message, about the literally destructive nature of capitalist enterprise, that I felt he has set aside the warmth and empathy towards the characters that was equally Arthur Miller’s concern.

Interestingly, even oddly again, the Program includes a lengthy quote from Miller’s ‘Tragedy and the Common Man’ which concludes: It is time, I think, that we who are without kings, took up this bright thread of our history and followed it to the only place it can lead in our time – the heart and spirit of the average man.

This is why my set began as a sunny light-hearted garden with an attractive fence for the neighbours to poke their heads over and come bursting through the gate for chatter and a welcoming social life – even if they knew the Kellers and Deevers had their problems.  The back door and wall of the Keller’s house had to be pleasant brick and timber, with windows conventionally curtained.  Though only a single tree was seen on stage, the scattered leaves around the garden table and seat added life to the scene.  This was the house and garden made by Kate Keller, proud mother of two loving sons.

After the storm, with the tree now broken, and into the night, the colouring changed from its bright daytime yellow, through threatening red and into steel blue.  As the mood changed, the attractiveness of the scene – though dulled, except for the one light in the upstairs bedroom window – was still there to remind us of the ‘heart and spirit’ of ordinary suburban life.

It’s into this scene, after interval, that George Deever comes to expose Joe Keller’s perfidy and to create the inevitable emotional chaos about his sister Ann’s intended marriage to Chris Keller, the younger brother of her now-dead boyfriend, Larry.  Ann has kept secret the truth only she knows about why and how he died, but now must reveal this to Kate, so her mother-in-law will understand and come to accept Ann’s decision.

Joe Keller does not commit suicide simply because of the legal issue of his allowing faulty plane engines to be shipped in the madness of wartime pressure for delivery.  Nor even because he knew, or thought he knew, that Larry had crashed flying one of those planes.  It was because he was lost in the maelstrom that George Deever generates – a violent whirlpool taking him down, where he saw ‘all my sons’ – with no hope of a way out.  When he goes back into the house, leaving Ann, Chris and his wife in deep darkness in the garden, they know what he will do.  There is only one lighted window, curtained neatly.  Joe is a ‘common man’ who has lost his ‘heart and spirit’.

They wait.  Chris turns to Ann and quietly says to go and fetch Dr Bayliss,  and she leaves through the garden gate.  Chris and his mother are seated, and wait.  As we do in the audience.  At last, in the absolute silence, the bedroom light switches off.  Pause.  The shot rings out. 

In my production the whole theatre remained silent for at least a further minute, as the already dim light gradually faded to absolute black.  Applause began gently, quietly, even respectfully, only as the general stage light began to come up for Kate and Chris to rise and move downstage.  Ann and George Deever, Dr Jim and Sue Bayliss, and the Lubeys with Bert, entered from the garden gate to join the remaining Keller mother and son.

The applause rose to its peak for the entrance of Joe Keller from the wings, and the ‘curtain call’ was complete.

But this was not how it happened in Kim Williams’ production.  Alice Babidge’s set was an almost bare stage, with a small round garden table and chair, and the tree, surrounded entirely in black, flat walls taken to full height.  Entrances stage left and right were through invisible black doors.  Upstage, the door into the house was black, and there were several windows – flat unadorned rectangular holes through which action in the house could be seen, such as answering the telephone. 

This was never the mother Kate Keller’s house and garden.  Never the place of suburban socialising, bringing up children who became boyfriends and girlfriends, and trying to cope with her husband, trapped by his own ‘common-ness’.

Already black, the scene certainly got darker as the night went on.  I had used faint moonlight for Ann, Kate and Chris in the final scene: there was no moon, no stars of even faint hope here.  Then, after Joe entered the house, the rear wall impossibly rose up to reveal the internal corridor, the stairs and the upstairs room where we now saw Joe slumped with a pistol still in his hand.

We had heard the shot, of course, but then Chris went into the house, climbed up the stairs, inspected the body, came back out and told Ann to fetch Dr Bayliss.  Chris and his mother then reacted to what had happened by striking poses of utter desolation, Chris downstage left and Kate at the doorway into the house.

Blackout was quick.  The audience immediately applauded loudly and enthusiastically and all the cast came on rapidly for two curtain calls.

But within seconds of the play’s ending, whatever we have learned about nasty capitalism, we have not felt the warmth, the fear, the confusion, the humanity of these ordinary people – people like us who can easily make the same kinds of deliberate and ignorant misjudgements.  As indeed we do, when we send our young people off to war and teach them to have simplistic ambitions for ‘success’.

I suppose modern audiences expect precise professionalism – brilliance – and Kip Williams and his cast have provided that.  But I think a bit of old-fashioned fuzziness suits this play better.  I think this All My Sons sells Arthur Miller short.

All photos by Zan Wimberley

Chris Ryan, Eryn Jean Norvill, Anita Hegh as
Chris Keller, Ann Deever and Sue Bayliss
showing the set design for All My Sons

John Howard as Joe Keller with Jack Ruwald as neighbour Bert

Chris Ryan and Robyn Nevin as
Chris Keller confronting his mother Kate Keller
over the death of his brother Larry
symbolised by the broken apple tree

Eryn Jean Norvill, John Howard, Robyn Nevin, Chris Ryan
as Ann Deever. watches the Keller family in conflict

Joe Keller (above) observes conversation between Chris Keller, Dr Jim Bayliss and Ann Deever
John Howard, Chris Ryan, Bert LaBonte and Eryn Jean Norvill

Joe Keller breaks an apple from the tree felled by the storm, giving half each to Chris and Ann
Chris Ryan, John Howard and Erin Jean Norvill

George Deever refuses to accept his sister Ann's intended marriage to Chris Keller, who looks to his mother, Kate for support.
L:R  Robyn Nevin as Kate Keller, Chris Ryan as Chris Keller,
Eryn Jean Norvill as Ann Deever, Josh McConville as George Deever

Joe Keller with his only remaining son, Chris
John Howard, Chris Ryan

Kate Keller tries to comfort her husband, Joe
Robyn Nevin, John Howard
in All My Sons

HIPPO! HIPPO!

HIPPO! HIPPO!  A Big New Musical Adventure. 

Based on the international best-selling book series  There’s a Hippopotamus On Our Roof Eating Cake by Hazel Edwards and illustrated by Deborah Niland. 

Directed and adapted by Garry Ginivan. Musical direction and original score by Mark Jones. Original arrangements by Tim Smith. Set design GrahamMcGuffie. Lighting Designer Ben Howlett.  Production Stage Manager David Kelly. Company Manager Andrew Dunne.  A Garry Ginivan Attraction. Produced in association with Shows in Schools. The Canberra Theatre. Canberra Theatre Centre. June 11. 2016.

 

Reviewed by Peter Wilkins

Hippo has left the building! For those lucky enough to have seen Garry Ginivan’s adaptation of the class children’s story, There’s A Hippopotamus On MY Roof Eating Cake, this colourful, lively and delightfully enchanting production will remain in the imagination for a very long time. Hazel Edwards’ utterly engaging story of a young girl’s imaginings of a hippopotamus on her roof, eating cake, vividly illustrated by Deborah Niland, is given a fresh, musical interpretation by director Garry Ginivan and his team.

A small company of four actors play out the family as well as a doctor at the hospital,  jungle characters, her friend at school and the teacher. Hippo (Andrew Dunne, mute and hidden in a costume) crosses the stage from time to time as a new imaginary adventure begins. The talented ensemble embrace the vitality and fun of children’s theatre. Eammon George is a happy go lucky affectionate Dad. Rosie Blyth captures the character of the sensible Mum and Dean Schulz is perfect as the bumptious, somewhat irritating and childish Brother. As Girl a.k.a. Moppet to her Dad, Kaisha Durban entrances as the central character of this wonderful musical version of Edwards’ and Niland’s stories. Mark Jones’s songs, arranged by Tim Smith, are catchy, bright and hummable, evoking the percussive rhythms of the African jungle, the sentimental melodies of imaginative play and the joyous tap routine number between Girl and Hippo (Just You and Me).  The fifty minute performance all ends in a happy and rousing chorus of Happy Birthday.

Dean Schulz, Rosie Blyth, Eammon George, Kaisha Durban

Ginivan’s reputation as a producer of high quality adaptations of popular children’s books is supreme. Previous productions of Possum Magic, My Grandma Lived in Gooligulch and Wombat Stew have thrilled young audiences and their families for many years, and Hippo! Hippo! Is no exception. Colourful, simple touring sets, designed by Graham McGuffie and lit by Ben Howlett set the mood and  the brightly designed costumes  bring the story to life for the excited and responsive young audience that sat enthralled throughout the

performance.

Even this hardened reviewer choked for a moment as Hippo and Girl hugged goodbye. Maybe I was not the only Moanup, as Brother calls the big people in the house, to feel a little saddened by the inevitable farewell of the imaginary friend. But then Hippo is never really gone. The imagination holds him in Girl’s heart for all time. Every children’s tale will have its moral, and this Garry Ginivan Attraction  gently and tenderly introduces the classic story’s salute to the wonderment of the imagination. Dropping character for a while to let the actor play his part. Schulz leads the audience participation in a musical routine to stress the importance of being sun-safe at the beach. He also, engagingly, prompts the large Canberra Theatre audience, children and adults alike, to hide behind their seats, don their imaginary jungle masks and make an almighty noise when GIRL appears. I am cautious of audience participation, but the company handles it with charm, a sense of fun and controlled importance. There is nothing gratuitous about this production. The performers play out their roles with genuine affection for the young audience and with a vitality, devoid of patronizing characterization or token participation. The audience responds spontaneously, laughing, staring wide-eyed at the lovable Hippo and believing completely that there could be a hippopotamus on the roof eating cake.

Andrew Dunne as Hippo in Out Of The Jungle.

Hippo has left the building this time, but should this production ever return or any Garry Ginnivan magical adaptation of a favourite children’s story , be sure to take the family for an adventure that 

they are certain to remember for a very, very long time – as long as there will be an imagination to brighten up their lives.  Promise!

THE MUSIC MAN

Book, Music and Lyrics by Meredith Willson

Directed by Joe McGrail-Bateup

Musical Direction by Zach Raffan

Queanbeyan Players Inc

The Q Theatre, Queanbeyan to 25 June

Review by Len Power 10 June 2016

Joe McGrail-Bateup’s production of ‘The Music Man’ for Queanbeyan Players captures the innocence of the show’s era and the enthusiastic playing of his large cast makes for an enjoyable evening of song and dance.

‘The Music Man’ opened on Broadway in 1957 and ran for over 1300 performances.  The story concerns a conman in 1912 who, posing as a bandleader, tricks innocent townsfolk into paying for musical instruments and uniforms and then skipping town with the money.  In River City, Iowa he meets his match in prim librarian, Marian.

The show demands a strong actor/singer to play the conman, Harold Hill, and Gordon Nicholson is believably hard-edged yet charming.  He sings the difficult patter songs very well.  As Marian, pretty Deanna Gibbs is delightful as the prim librarian who is no fool and sings beautifully.

There’s good work from all of the supporting players, especially Bill Lord as Mayor Shin, Janet Tweedie as Mrs Paroo, Katy Larkin as Amaryllis, Colin (Irish) Giles as Marcellus, Jeremy Brown as Charlie Cowell, Kerry Warner as Eulalie Shinn, Emily O’Brien as Zaneeta and Dan D’Abrera as Tommy.  Young Callum Doherty as Winthrop stops the show with his terrific singing of ‘Gary, Indiana’.

There is a large amount of dance in this show and Kathryn Jones has excelled herself with her work with this large cast, especially in the big ‘Seventy Six Trombones’ and ‘Shipoopi’ numbers.  The accomplished young dancer, Liam Jackson, is a standout in the dances.

It would be a huge task to provide the period costumes for this show but designers Janetta McRae and Norma Roach and their team of costume makers have done excellent work, providing costumes that are colourful and attractive.

Musical direction by Zach Raffin is very strong with clear diction from the singers and fine playing by the orchestra after a few wobbly notes in the Overture.  The set by Ian Croker is practical and attractively painted.  Lighting by Hamish McConchie adds nicely to the show’s atmosphere.

Joe McGrail-Bateup has done a good job with his directorial debut.  Cues need to be picked up quicker by the cast, though, and some of the set changes were slow and looked under-rehearsed.

For anyone interested in musical theatre, ‘The Music Man’ is a landmark musical.  Queanbeyan Players’ production is nicely done, very entertaining and will appeal to children as well as adults.

Len Power’s reviews can also be heard on Artsound FM 92.7 ‘Artcetera’ program from 9am on Saturdays.