On a fine but chilly evening at the beginning of October, it was the perfect time to get into the spooky and spiritual mood, especially with Halloween coming up.

Starting off in Federation Square, our guide Matt leads us around the city, weaving through the lane ways up to the state parliament and backdown, finishing off in China Town.

We step back in time to the 1800s, hearing the story of George the Fisherman from Platform 13 Flinders street, picturing the alluring prostitute on the corner of Flinders and Swanston streets. Imagining the creaking floor boards in the Young and Jackson pub from Chloe, walking the steps Frederick Deeming, Melbourne’s Jack the Ripper, may have walked and standing in front of the Princess theatre where opera singer Frederici, apparently still haunts. 

The story of Burke and Hare, infamous grave robbers turned murderers, who would sell the bodies to university lecturers for medical students to study, was told very convincingly, he never explicitly said they were in Melbourne but on a Melbourne Ghost walk it’s implied. Unfortunately for Matt, I had already heard the tale and seen a film and knew they were actually in Edinburgh, Scotland, no where near Melbourne. There may have been similar murders in Melbourne but I doubt that they had the same names as well. This unfortunately meant I doubted whether the other stories were also embellished or simply lifted from other cities. 

Matt was friendly and approachable, talking with audience members on the walk between stops. He did admit that others did the research and he just did the story telling, something he did well. He was engaging and built suspense. He is also accommodating, letting everyone take a few minutes to take photos at nearly every stop. However I was a little disappointed Matt wasn’t wearing a costume but that’s only a very small criticism. 

No one felt any ghostly or supernatural forces on our tour, and to be honest it wasn’t that scary. If you want a tour that might actually frighten you I suggest heading to Edinburgh, one of the most haunted cities in the world. This tour was interesting and might be something fun and different to do with kids. Make sure you wear comfortable shoes as there is quite a bit of walking, and dress appropriately.

Don’t worry that the Fringe Festival is over, this tour runs twice a week all year round. The same company, Lantern Ghost Tours, also offers tours around Pentridge Prison, Williamstown, Eynesbury Homestead, Altona Homestead, Old Castlemaine Goal and  Ararat Lunatic Asylum. 

A teacher, Miss Taylor, dealing with a difficult student.

Snap. 

A young man, Stu, his typical Sunday is interrupted by something extraordinary. 

Catch. 

A divorced mother, Karen, waiting for her young daughter to return home from a play date.

Slam.

Each word describes the moment that changed it all. 

A small stage upstairs at the Tuxedo Cat is set up with 5 chairs, the play starts as all five actors take their seat. The actors take it in turns to tell their story, it’s like a one sided conversation that quickly escalates to the critical moment, the snap, the catch and the slam. 

There is a huge demand on the actors, as it is just them telling the story with a small amount of movement, but all five them, especially the three leads, create the entire scene, there’s no need for elaborate sets or props. It’s mesmerising, sending shivers down the audiences spine, goose bumps are formed and tears threaten to fall. 

We start with Shian Denovan who plays Miss Taylor. Endearing and engaging, Denovan captures the harrowing climax of her story perfectly. It’s intense and terrifying. 

A blackout signifies the change in story.

Spotlight zooms in on Victor Gralak, who plays Stu, with the aid of Abigail King and Andrew Pantelis he creates their story. Stu paints the picture of his typical Sunday, his bacon butty, his game of football and then slowly builds the scene of this atypical Sunday, with a mother and father (King and Pantelis) joining him to build a powerful tableau depicting the scene of this stories climax. 

Another blackout and finally we focus on Sarah Plummer playing Karen, the only one with a prop, a bowl and wooden spoon. Constantly checking the clock she waits, anxiety building. Through her monologue the audience puts information together, like a puzzle, until all is revealed with a slam. Plummer expertly handles the denouement. 

When it wasn’t their turn to speak or be part of the story the actors sit looking straight ahead, but still emanating their characters. 

In such a small amount of time playwright Emma Jowett has created complex characters, that are familiar and real. Sound designer David Kotlyar has created the perfect backing track to accompany and enhance the play, from classroom sound effects to the perfect timing of a crescendo. The sound creates the atmosphere and is key to the impeccable pacing of the stories. 

It is no wonder that the play has just had a successful run at the Edinburgh fringe, and a tour of the UK. You’ll leave the theatre stunned, potentially needing a drink and wanting to talk about the incredible show you’ve just seen.

Two women, two wheelchairs, a dance studio and a projector; the combination created a startling and moving contemporary dance piece. We are trapped within our own bodies, limited by its capabilities. Some of us are lucky and are not too limited but others aren’t so lucky.

Choreographer and performer Dianne Reid, has captured the emotion perfectly; the weight  and confinement of the wheel chair, literally and metaphorically. The reliance on a speech generator device, the reliance of others to help, the struggle of day to day life.

Her inspiration and duo partner Melinda Smith suffers from cerebral palsy. The mind is relatively sharp but the body, including her vocal chords, just won’t do what she wants it to do. In order to get by, she is unfortunately confined to a wheelchair and speech generator device.(Note: there are varying degrees of impairment in cerebral palsy sufferers).

So many words come to mind while watching this performance – moving, interesting, thought provoking, disturbing but in a good way. But if you’re looking for a definite description of the performance, confronting comes to mind.

The piece challenges the definition of dance; accepting someone who does not have the privilege of being able to do a great deal of movement, or having full control over their body, unlike traditional dance which generally needs controlled movement.  In a voice over the ‘voice’ of Smith says “Dance has taught me to love my spasms in a strange way.”

Even though there were only two dancers, there was plenty to look at in the large space. With clever integration of shadows and projected video on the back wall, occasionally it was hard to know what to look at. They use the entire space well; Melinda crawling, Reid wheeling or dancing to the rhythmic music that were smoothly interjected by sound effects such as the sound of a pedestrian crossing traffic lights and voice over.

Reid also acted as tech, changing lights and turning projection off and on. Although noticeable from the audience, it did not detract from show.

Indeed, the performers used the entire space to their advantage, especially when Reid breaks the fourth wall by getting touchingly close to the audience. It’s awkward and risky but that’s what this performance is about, letting the audience in and in some way experience empathy for Smith and to accept her for who she is and what she can do, rather than what she can’t. Even at the start Reid is sitting amongst the audience in a wheel chair. In fact, most of the seats the audience are sitting on are wheelchairs.

It wasn’t depressing as some might assume, there were even moments of humour; one moment that stood out was when they were putting a wheel back on the wheel chair. Reid called out to Smith to hand her the wheel, a task she clearly couldn’t do. It was a moment where you could see their friendship, if a stranger had said the same thing it would have been offensive, instead it was a funny joke. This highlights how even if the body can’t move there is still a sense of humour. It is so easy to just see the wheelchair or the disease and not the person hidden behind it.

The pair have been working together since 2010, travelling around the world to perform in India and Sweden. A short film created by the duo A Beautiful Day, is also currently screening as part of the Melbourne Fringe Film program, Digital Creatures.

So go and sit in a wheel chair and be inspired for 50 minutes.

“Can you ever just be whelmed?”

“I think you can in Europe.”

A nod to the film 10 Things I Hate About You, Gillian Cosgriff has crafted this very funny comedy cabaret show, linking every song and joke with the notion of being whelmed, which as it turns out is actually a real thing.

As Cosgriff explains; whelmed is a sailing term, it means that the waves are lapping at the sides but not coming over on to the deck. She interprets this as coping at 98 per cent, the balanced point right before you become overwhelmed.

A self confessed over achiever as well as being highly skilled at procrastination (apparently the combination of those two things is the reason she spends her life feeling whelmed), the pint sized songstress charms the audience with high level energy, original witty lyrics matched with perfect pitch and tone accompanied by effortless piano playing. She has been compared to the genius Tim Minchin, something she does find a little overwhelming.

Thankfully for us, and for her, her procrastination leads to some hysterical songs and she now has the very useful skill of being able to name every capital city in the world. I can only wish I was that good at procrastination.

The one woman show is not just a twenty something year old moaning about being single; it’s a mix of stand up material with about seven songs expertly paced throughout the show. Discussing topics from the most hideous bag, family obligations, the problems with diets to internet procrastination, the bombardment of fitspiration (fitness and inspiration) and chameleons, just to name a few.

Whether it was opening night nerves or that is just her style, Cosgriff does tends to ramble, constantly making side remarks that have just popped into her head. Thankfully she is naturally funny and it only makes her seem more genuine, making the audience love her even more.

She’ll leave your cheeks hurting from smiling and laughing consistently for an entire hour, from the opening OHS message to the final note, and if you’re lucky she may even let you touch the ugly denim bag on the way out. It’s memorable to say the least – and I know, because I still can’t get the last song out of my head.

Click here for more information and to purchase tickets to the show.

The show, 1/2, is a very simplified summary of William Shakespeares’ Twelfth Night.

A man, Malvolio, is in love with a girl, Olivia, who falls in love with a guy, Cesario, who is really a girl, Viola, pretending to be a guy. Viola falls in love with a guy, Orsino, who is in love with Olivia, and the brother of the girl pretending to be Cesario (Sebastian), turns up and also falls in love with Olivia. Indeed, it’s a very convoluted story line, but hopefully this summary made sense.

The show is structured in a way of two plays being performed out of one, but both performed simultaneously in one room. Director Sharmini Kumar chose to separate Malvolio’s storyline and give it its own stage. The rest of the convoluted tale of love is then condensed. However, the tag of “Twice as much in half the time” is misleading as you only get to see the storyline you choose, so really it should be: half as much in half the time.

Turning up at Brunswick Uniting Church, the audience has two choices; sit to the side of the entrance and watch Malvolios tale of unrequited love or sit in the pews and watch the main plot performed in front of the alter. This can prove to be a difficult task for indecisive people and reviewers. We chose Malvolio, but I would have liked to have seen the other play as well.

You don’t need to know what is going on in the other storyline to comprehend what’s going on in front of you, although it helps to be familiar with the whole play because when distracted by the other stage, you could then easily figure out what was going on. 

Indeed, pulling off such an intricate feat should be commended, especially to Kumar and the cast for trying something new and exciting. Unfortunately though, it didn’t pay off, the structure of the play making the production fall short. The beginning was a shock to the system, with the audience’s attention immediately pulled in two different directions, not sure where to look or who to listen to. Towards the end, the process for the brain becomes easier as the initial shock wears off, however your attention is still being split.

Certain parts of Malvolio’s play were clearly dragged out or put in, like audience participation and random songs sung by the Fool, just to make this subplot go on for as long as the main plot. In these moments it was easy to be distracted by the other stage.

Costumes vaguely indicated the play was set in the 1920s, essentially ending up with a timeless look which did not distract from the play. Questionable use of hair piece for Malvolio, not really sure what that was about, if only to make a mildly funny joke at one point and the Fools costume could have been toned down. The use of a puppet for one character was almost pointless, however the puppeteer who was also another character handled the interactions between the two really well. 

Mumbling was occasionally an issue, made worse because the actors were competing with actors on the other stage and background music. Generally you could see the commitment and passion all the actors had for this challenging play, which in a different space may have worked better. 

Click here for more information and to purchase tickets to the show. 

Well you wouldn’t be alone, because falling in love or being sexually attracted to an inanimate object is called Objectum Sexuality. Melbourne based actress and comedian Nicolette Minster explores the possible consequences of giving up human love for her security blanket “blue blankie” in her one woman show Inanimately at the Melbourne Fringe Festival.

Making her home in a tiny room upstairs at the Lithuanian club in North Melbourne for the next few weeks, Minster serenades the audience with her own versions of various songs including ‘Castle on a Cloud’ from Les Miserables. Though the show is labeled a cabaret, it’s really a comedy with a couple of songs thrown in. The minimal space allows Minster and the audience to intimately interact with each other, and while this can be harrowing for some, don’t fret – this is just her way of showcasing her unique party tricks. Minster’s humour is also slightly crass but only one joke about autism is particularly controversial and potentially offensive. As a reviewer, I did have a moment of regret for laughing.

Minster talks with such a casual nature, portraying the concept of objectum sexuality as something normal and not weird at all. It’s a rather good idea in fact, and as Minster says, it’s either that or become a crazy cat lady who thinks all the problems in the world can be fixed with “blankets and cats”.

The mood is a mix of brothel and comic lounge, set by minimal backing music. There are also four lights set up in the room, changing colour from blue to red and pink, with the fridge light occasionally being the only thing to illuminate the space.

Minsters use of props is also really well done. Props are used to break up segments of monologue whilst simultaneously progressing the over arching story line of her journey to true love. Minster seemed a little scattered to begin with, possibly opening night nerves, but settled down towards the end. Showing off her incredible skills at impressions using French and English accents, that paired with her physicalisation help portray conversations clearly.

Minster is one half of comedy duo Girls Uninterrupted, and is currently appearing in Kinne on 7mate, which she shamelessly plugs during the show.

Click here for more information and to purchase tickets.