Q & A With Tilly Legge, Lightning Jar's Venus In Fur

TILLY LEGGE

By Lee Bemrose

Lightning Jar Theatre is a newish independent theatre company based in Melbourne.  Their current production is Venus In Fur by American playwright David Ives. It’s a play within a play, based on an apparently fictional novella from the late 19^th Century, which as it turned out was more autobiographical than author Leopold von Sacher-Masoch might have wanted readers to believe, as well as giving us the word masochism. Australian Stage caught up with Lightning Jar’s Tilly Legge as she takes on the commanding and demanding role of Vanda.

                                     

How long has Lightning Jar Theatre been around and how did it come into being?

Lightning Jar Theatre was formed in 2016 by Hannah Greenwood, Dylan Watson and myself. We wanted to create more of the sort of theatre that we want to see. It had kinda been on the cards for the three of us for some time, it was just a matter of waiting for the right play to present itself.

I understand lightning jars are a vessel for preserving fruit... how did this become the company name?

It’s a subtle reference to a line in The Dreamer Examines His Pillow by John Patrick Shanley. The lead character Donna is trying to explain the emotions she feels raging inside her; she says to her ex-boyfriend, “There’s lightning screwed in a jar in here!”. We thought the image was great and represents what we love seeing on stage! It’s also an homage to how Dylan and Hannah met; they worked together on this play for an acting masterclass back in 2012.

What is your role at Lightning Jar?

We’re all the co-artistic directors. It’s a very collaborative effort. All responsibilities are shared between the three of us.

What's Lightning Jar's mission statement or ethos?

We want to create theatre that is exciting, fresh, moving & entertaining.

We want to celebrate writers, new & old.

We want to make you feel, make you forget, make you shift uncomfortably in your seat, make you laugh.

We want to be the reason people see more theatre.

How many plays have you produced so far?

This is our second show, following Aaron Posner’s Stupid Fucking Bird in 2017.

Stupid Fucking Bird was a wonderfully engaging production. What aspects of that play attracted you to it.

We loved its irreverence and at the same time deep respect for the source material - The Seagull by Anton Chekhov. It was a modern look at a classic, brimming with humour and pathos but also full of heart. It also had quite a lot of direct address to the audience which really brought the audience into the world of the characters. The metatheatrical elements of the play meant we could get away with some things that we may not have been able to with a more conventional script, especially from a budgeting perspective! We were honestly so surprised no-one had done it in Australia yet. It had so many successful runs in the US and we just felt we’d hit a gold mine when we came across it. It’s really one of those plays where an audience will have a good laugh and then WHAM! Hit right in the feels.

And the new production Venus In... actually, before we get to that, Venus In Fur or Venus In Furs? I'm confused. Please unconfuse me.

Venus in Fur (2010) by David Ives is about a playwright/director who’s adapted the book Venus in Fur (1870) Leopold von Sacher-Masoch for the stage. There’s a bit of translation debate about whether the title to the original book is plural or singular. Our version is plural but the one they talk about is the play is singular. Go figure!

Right. So Venus In Fur – what drew Lightning Jar to this particular play?

It’s pretty simple really; Venus in Fur is a great script. There’s a reason it was the most performed play in America in 2012/2013 - It’s an absolute cracker! It’s funny, it’s clever, it’s incredibly topical. The three of us are actors but we don’t want to choose plays just because there’s a role in it we want to play. It’s got to be a great story that deserves an audience.

Is the play simply fun or is it deep and making a statement?

It’s a bit of both really. Ives’ plays are always so whip-smart and he writes great dialogue; we joke that he’s (Aaron) Sorkin on Stage. It’s certainly entertaining but it does take the audience to a place they didn’t expect. Not only have all our audiences so far stayed seated for a few minutes after curtain to absorb what’s happened, they’re often then rushing out together to have prolonged discussions about what takes place. It’s great to make the audience think like that and want to discuss the play’s themes long into the night. We were heading out after a show one night last week and ran into a group of audience members at a bar that were doing just that!

I can't help thinking about the subject matter of the play and the current climate of sex and power play in Hollywood and indeed politics and culture generally. Is the play an observation or comment of what's going on now?

Well... it is, but it really is coincidental. The play was written in 2010 so not as a direct response to recent developments in the industry, although certainly it seems influenced by what many people knew occurred in the business but didn’t want to discuss. There have been jokes about the “casting couch” and what that implies that we’ve all heard, but as they say, there’s truth to every joke. Clearly Ives had his finger on the pulse! What’s occurred to us during rehearsals is how different a production of Venus may have looked like back when it was written compared to what we’re creating here. There has to be a certain amount of attention paid to themes that may not have been 8 years ago.

Leading up to opening night, what was the vibe like at rehearsals?

So nervous and excited! Previews were such a great way for us to warm to having an audience. We feel we’re in a great place to have some packed houses!

How do Tilly and Vanda get along with each other? What does each of you think of the other?

Vanda is an absolute firecracker - great fun at a party. Just don’t make her mad! What does she think of me? Well hopefully she thinks I’m doing her justice!

We should come and see Venus In Fur because...

You’ll be thoroughly entertained – by the end of the play, once you get over the initial dumbstruck stupor that most people seem to experience, you’ll be busting to grab a drink and discuss what you just saw. “So does that mean that she-?” And “So was it really…?”

Season runs at 45 Downstairs, 45 Flinders Lane, Melbourne until March 24.

Moira Finucane, The Rapture, Review

The Rapture

Reviewed by Lee Bemrose



Short review for the Moira-converted: Just go see it. Duh.

More detailed review for those who haven't had had The Divine Moira Experience: Wow, where to start.

This is without a doubt a strange show. At times, it is positively weird. At times you might not even know what the hell is going on. Splitting hairs, perhaps, but I didn't feel that this was burlesque,as such, but more performance art. 80 minutes of thrilling Gothic weirdness. A kind of surreal dramatic monologue with flashes of humour and musical interludes, stunning costumes, lots of nudity and some tomato sauce.

In the past I've only seen Moira Finucane as part of an ensemble that she has curated. She has brought together the world's most talented burlesque artists frequently over the years and has appeared amongst them, usually standing out, with her performances being dark, powerful and often hilarious.

With The Rapture, it's a treat to see Moira do her thing for the duration of the show with assistance from a mere handful of performers. It's a pretty demanding task to set herself. In The Rapture, Moira is a story teller. She tells stories and stories and stories, acting out the narration as she tells us these stories. I wanted to be a more conscientious reviewer - like the chap across from the stage in the white shirt and red scarf who ostentatiously scribbled in his notebook throughout the performance (anyone know who he was? I'd be interested in reading his review) – but to be honest I was just too enthralled by what was happening on stage to take notes.

Moira is an engaging story teller to say the least. But she also an engaging actor. In The Rapture, she is a shapeshifter. She is a growling, dark and dominant Goddess who it would be wise not to anger, then the most feminine of girls going through the phases of love. Physically, she can have a strong, almost masculine presence, but she can also appear, well, just really beautiful.

And that beauty would appear to come from within. Moira is obviously a feminist, but there is an all-embracing feel to what she does. There is an undeniable celebration of the feminine in this show, as there has been in all her previous shows, but it would appear that she wants to celebrate the beauty of life in all its forms. The revelation that Moira is an Environmental Scientist came as a bit of a surprise, given the accomplished performer that she is. And yet it shouldn't surprise.

Highlights for me were many. The costumes... such lush creations. The scene where Moira acted out the various phases of love to the accompaniment of U2's With Or Without You (I think this is correct – as I said, too enthralled to take notes). The general pagan feel of the night including the breaking and sharing of bread. Shirley Cattunar's version of A Daisy A Day... wait on – this deserves its own paragraph.

Another highlight is that all of the performers hang around and mingle and hug and talk. I was lucky enough to thank Shirley Cattunar for her version of A Daisy A Day, and I hope she doesn't think I was just being nice. This is a song I haven't heard for a lifetime, but its simple lyrics are so beautifully sad, delivered here in such a raw, almost frail way, that it made me tear up. Nice work, you beautiful woman.

Do see this show. It's a strange and darkly beautiful creation that you won't quickly forget.

Cuckoo By Jane Miller, Review

Cuckoo
45 Downstairs
45 Flinders Lane,
Melbourne

Reviewed by Lee Bemrose

Strange one, this one. It suffers from what I'm going to think of in the future as The Cuckoo Effect. You're dying to know what The Cuckoo Effect is, aren't you. Well, I really enjoyed this play as it was unfolding whilst ignoring a few of the questions and quibbles The Little Voice was whispering in my ear. After all, it's an intriguing story, creatively told by a small cast of good actors. The intriguing bits are intriguing, the dramatic bits are dramatic and the funny bits are (mostly) funny, so shut-up, quibbly little voice and let me enjoy this thing.

And I did enjoy it. But the more distance there was between me being there seeing the play, and being away and looking back and thinking about the play, the more The Little Voice seemed to have a few valid quibbles. That's The Cuckoo Effect.

The story follows the lives of Mel (Natalie Carr) and Leo (Matthew Molony) and what happens to their lives when their apparently long-lost son J (Samuel Russo in a twitchy and unsettlingly quirky performance) turns up 17 years or so after he mysteriously vanished. The young adult claims to have been injured in a bicycle accident and in need of help. Mel is keen to help, but Leo is suspicious of this intruder with whom something is clearly not right. What follows is a story of love (and the dying of), desire, yearning, memory, regret, rejection and loyalty. All the ingredients are in place for some really good theatre, and it mostly delivers.

J's unexpected arrival opens up, for the married couple, new possibilities and a whole can of worms. If he is who he says he is, what happened? Where has he been? What went wrong? Who is to blame for his disappearance?

If he is not who he claims to be, who is he? What does he want? And how does he know how to manipulate them so easily?

The play is billed as a black comedy, and that's not an inaccurate description. There's a lot of psychological drama going on, as you'd expect with such a scenario, and there are plenty of laughs to be had. Indeed, this kind of story could be played as a straight and powerful drama. But the writer (Jane Miller) has chosen to infuse this quite serious story with humour.

And this is in part the source of some of The Little Voice's whispered quibbles. While the different and quite separate moods mostly work in isolation, they kind of jar at times. There isn't really a smooth transition between them, mainly because the drama and psychological tension is done so well, and some of the humour (not all) borders on farcical or the absurd, so much so that it clashes and jangles. The human frailty stuff is genuinely moving and natural. Some of the humour, while funny, just seems out of place or unnecessary. The character Dan (David Kambouris) - possibly the cop who delivered the news of the son's disappearance all those years ago and who is now a friend of Mel and Leo's – felt at times like a character from an awful sitcom like Hey Dad. Well played, but a frequently annoying character with frequently annoying “funny” lines.

There's also the suspension of disbelief problem. With a really successful story, you just agree to its unspoken terms and conditions and accept whatever unlikely romance or tragedy or fantasy the story suggests. You just let yourself get drawn in. With slightly less successful stories, you find yourself saying yeah but... but why don't they... but if this really happened...

I guess what's stayed with me the most are the naturalistic parts of the play dealing with emotional struggle. So well done. This is a story about the hopes of a missing child returning and the challenges that go with that, but it's also a story about fading love and rejection.

The flashback scenes are effective in giving clues as to what Mel and Leo's life was like prior to their son's disappearance, as well as the circumstances leading up to the event itself. They may have gotten on with their lives and eventually accepted that their son simply vanished, but we see that even in the most ordinary of families, all is not necessarily what it seems and blame and self-recrimination are simply burdens that must be endured if we are to get on with life.

There is real drama and tension as the three main characters become locked in a psychological battle for what they want or need out of this situation, and there is an air of creepiness or menace as well. The mystery of what has actually taken place remains right up to the quite poignant closing scene.

Season ends July 26

Master Class, 45 Downstairs, Review

Master Class

Reviewed by Lee Bemrose.



Initially, I confused Maria Callas with Diamanda Galas. The latter, I thought, would be a great subject for a play. When I realised my mistake I was a little disappointed because although Maria Callas did indeed lead an eventful life and was obviously worthy of celebrating in the form of a play, I don't really like opera. And after reading the press release properly, Master Class was going to contain some singing. Oh Dear. I wasn't sure about this. I mean, opera, really?

Right from the start, however, this play cast a spell. It's a loving tribute to La Divina, very funny, warm, and gives great insight into what it takes to be a great performer, to really excel at any creative vocation. I loved the writing, the acting, the structure of the story and – get this – the singing. Not ever having been to a live opera performance I have no idea why I thought I didn't like opera. The power of this kind of singing is extraordinary, and I do believe I'll be following up on this epiphany.

In 1971, after her career had peaked, Maria Callas conducted a series of master classes at the Julliard School in New York. Maria Mercedes takes to the stage as Maria Callas, an imposing, demanding figure oozing confidence, an acute sense of self and an enviable reserve of quips, one liners and comebacks. The character comes across as hard, driven and passionate. At times she seems more passionate about the artistic process than the feelings of her students (we, the audience, are addressed as her students), but there are moments where a couple of the students stand up against her and prove their talent when their tutor softens. You can't be this passionate about creativity and be a complete ice queen.

As the students finally get to sing, memories are triggered, actual recordings of Maria Callas are cued in their aural sepia tones, and Maria Mercedes does a wonderful job of revealing what it was like to be Maria Callas: to grow up poor through the Second World War; of what it was like to struggle with her weight, her craft and the importance of her perfectionism. We hear of her relationship with Aristotle Onassis and of what it was like to triumph against the odds to become La Divina. It's all quite nostalgic whilst remaining current and relevant to anyone unfortunate enough to want to succeed in the arts. These more personal, nostalgic sections are perfectly counter-balanced by the frequent laugh-out-loud ones.

And so we come to that singing. Other cast members were Cameron Thomas, kind of a piano-playing sidekick, and Georgia Wilkinson, Robert Barbaro and Anna-Louise Cole as the students in the spotlight. It was a revelation to me to be so close to fellow human beings with access to such rich, stirring vocals. Clearly there is a magical recipe of natural talent and rigorous training at play here, and these voices, mere human voices, have the power to stir emotions. It seems I don't dislike opera as much as I thought I did.

45 Downstairs was the perfect venue for this story to be told. It's a very open space, much like a small lecture auditorium, making the whole experience quite evocative of being back there, back then in the presence of La Divina.

Bravo.

At 45 Downstairs, Flinders Lane, Melbourne until August 28.