White Rabbit, Red Rabbit Review

White Rabbit, Red Rabbit

Reviewed by Lee Bemrose



Dear Nassim Soleimanpour,

It was a pleasure to meet you last night via your inventive theatrical experience, White Rabbit, Red Rabbit. I did as you asked and refrained from reading reviews prior to seeing your play. I also avoided reading a detailed synopsis. I knew the barest detail of the concept: a play by an Iranian writer prohibited from leaving his home country because of his political beliefs; no director; a different actor each night; the actor does not see the script until he/she opens the envelope containing it as the performance commences.

Who could not find all of this intriguing?

You'll be happy to know, Nassim, that the performer on this opening night at The Arts Centre in Melbourne, April 2017, was the talented Eddie Perfect, and he did a splendid job. He appeared to enjoy the experience, and the audience enjoyed this enjoyment. There were many, many laughs. Eddie Perfect generally leans towards comedy but likes a bit of social commentary in his work. This might explain why he enjoyed this experience so much, because as well as some absurdist comedy, your play has a lot to say. With White Rabbit, Read Rabbit, you convey some very important messages, deftly coupling humour with seriousness. I hope someone has sent you some photos of Eddie (and indeed some of the audience members who found themselves on stage as part of the performance) in action during the show. Oh and very good of you to allow us to leave our phones on and encourage us to take photos during the show – just one of the many surprising elements of your experiment.

The set design was minimal. Just a couple of household items and some things borrowed from the audience. This is all that's needed, because really, the magic is in the writing and the concept of the work.

The big irony, Mr Soleimanpour, is that while your show has a lot to say, I'm guessing that even in a review, you would like the writer to refrain from saying too much about the show itself. This is a big ask, but I will respect your wishes post-show as much as I did pre-show.

I would like you to know that everyone in the room thoroughly enjoyed this piece. You would have enjoyed it. You would have enjoyed our enjoyment. And strangely, in spite of your absence, you actually felt very present. Your humour, your wit, your deep understanding of how society and systems and individuals work... all of this was palpable, and you may as well have been sitting in that chair kept vacant for you. I don't think I was alone in feeling that I met you last night. It was a real pleasure to have met someone with such a sharp sense of humour, with such deft story-telling ability... oh yeah, another thing: I was aware of the experimental nature of White Rabbit, Red Rabbit and thus wondered if I would find it satisfying. I wondered if it might be a bit gimmicky for someone who goes to the theatre to be told a cracking good story. I needn't have worried. I found this a deeply rich and satisfying theatrical experience indeed.

So there you have it. I'm pleased to have met you, even though we've never met. I'm grateful that you have shared some of yourself with us. The memory of your play feels real and important, like the memory of a friend.

Wishing you all the best my friend,

Lee Bemrose.

Reviews: St Clarity by Paper Kites, Waste Of Time by MØ and Tim Winton's The Turning

Looking for what's hot in new music? Look here at Soot mag. A bunch of reviews by me. My faves are probably St Clarity by Paper Kites and Waste Of Time by Mø.

It was such a funny thing, but I was asked if I want to do a few quick music reviews and I said yeah sure, I used to do these things all the time. Then when it came to doing it, I just couldn't. I actually told the editor sorry, no can do. I totally choked. There was just nothing there.

The editor said just give it a go. I understand this attitude because I often don't get how people can't write. I've often encouraged people to write. Writing is just thinking out loud, through your fingertips. But in this case I really felt like I'd forgotten how to do it. I mean, I liked the music, but what do you say about it?

Anyway, because she expected something I gave it another go and suddenly it came back to me. I really enjoyed it. It re-awakened my love of new music. And it made me realise that aside from psytrance, I haven't really kept up to date with new music for quite a while. And I love it. I love new music more than I love wine, and I love wine a LOT.

I also loved writing my first movie review. The Turning by Tim Winton is a bit of a masterpiece. Like, a three hour stunner of a masterpiece. The review is actually 17 movie reviews, because the whole thing is made up of 17 short film adaptations of Winton's short story collection. I've never been a big fan of Tim Winton's but this movie makes me want to read the book.

Hmm. Why does 17 stories ring bells?

Ubu Roi, Review

Ubu Roi

Reviewed by Lee Bemrose

A raw version of Ubu Roi was written in the late 1800s by three teenage schoolboys with Alfred Jarry considered the author of the final version. It was originally written as a parody of one the boys' schoolteachers and was performed as a puppet show in an attic for the boys' own amusement.

However, Jarry persisted with the central character of Ubu and the play opened on stage in Paris in 1896, with a riot breaking out in the theatre upon the opening words from the lead character. The audience was eventually calmed, only for chaos to erupt again shortly after, so shocking and vulgar was the content to the sophisticated French audience. The play polarised critics, and theatre of the absurd was born.

Naturally, more than a hundred years later contemporary audiences are made of more robust stuff. The play now presents itself as more of a curiosity than something to be shocked about and is presented by various theatre groups in a variety of settings. Which is not to say that this theatre goer and his plus one, The Dreaded One, didn't approach this performance with some trepidation. Just how absurd is absurd? Would it make any sense at all? And in this case, there is mud... lots of mud.

Chatting briefly with director Jason Cavanagh before the show, we joked that given that we frequent multi-day dance festivals in the bush, we are not afraid of a bit of mud. “Yes,” he replied, “it reminds me of Confest.” Precisely. He also asked casually if we'd be sitting in the front row. Erm... no.

Not that there was anything to worry about, mud-wise; protective sheets were supplied to the front row and clear shower curtains were drawn whenever a battle scene erupted, flashing swords replaced with mud balls. As the actors became more covered in mud, it actually looked like an awful lot of fun.

The story feels very Shakespearean and indeed is given something of the Shakespearean treatment by this cast of very fine, if muddied, actors. The script doesn't quite have the finesse and the poetry of Shakespeare, but you do recognise a bit of MacBeth in the motivations and actions of the characters. Largely at the urging of his wife, Mama Ubu, Papa Ubu hatches a plot to kill the king of Poland and install himself of that country's ruler. Why Poland? It would appear that Poland wasn't on the map in 1896, so Ubu was effectively taking over and ruling a non-existent place. Absurd, no?

Co-conspirator Captain Bordure's men are killed after being offered food which looks a lot like shit on a toilet brush. The mission is successful, Ubu acquires great wealth by simply killing all the noblemen and taking their money, and much double-crossing, treachery, plotting and fighting ensues. The language is as infantile as the motivations of Ubu, a huge, lumbering man-child driven largely by his animal needs.

In creating Ubu, Jarry was having a go not just at the ruling elite (though he was definitely doing this) but also the common man. Ubu started out being a parody of a loathed teacher, but in reworking and reworking the character over the years of his short life (he died at 34 after complications from his various addictions, not the least of which was absinthe), he was also attacking modern man and society generally. Given the antics of Australia's current gaggle of politicians – Rudd comes to mind with his earwax-eating and his juvenile look-at-me-I'm-just-a-regular-schmuck tweets – Ubu Roi still feels relevant. Especially given the apparent lack of ideology in politics today; our political leaders seem more driven by their desire for fame than anything.

If I went into this production from 5pound Theatre with trepidation, The Dreaded One did more so. Given it's absurdist reputation, she wasn't sure if she was going to enjoy it at all. I was relieved to hear her laughing throughout and tell me afterwards that she thoroughly enjoyed it. I think she was a little relieved at just how much she liked it.

Nicholas Dubberley was superb as the grotesque Ubu, as was Amy Jones as Ubu's ruthless wife and Andi Snelling as Captain Bordure. In fact the whole cast, playing multiple roles, was pretty damn good. Although occasionally played for laughs, overall the text appeared to be taken quite seriously, which is often the best delivery for humour. Lighting and set-design enhanced the whole experience to make it something quite unique; strangely thrilling, weirdly compelling.

5pound Theatre continues to do interesting things at The Owl & Pussycat. It really is worth checking out this little mud-fest, the piece of theatrical history that is Ubu Roi.

At The Owl & Pussycat, Richmond, Melbourne until July 27