Bandaluzia Flamenco featured a lot of improvisation, and while the songs were long, the variations on themes sustained audience interest and broke up any sense of repetition that was inherent in the style. The extremes in dynamics built so seamlessly that they were only noticeable in the pauses leading into the next melodic sequences. The use of percussion – clapping and playing off a drum-like box – emphasised the syncopation in the music. The sporadic shouts, that became part of the music, were exciting, and gave the melodies a momentum into the next phrase. The ensemble were engaged in the moment, following each other’s solos with small rhythmic movements, which seemed to mimic the audience’s desire to dance.

The dancing was a hypnotising visual interest, with the constant twirling contributing to a mesmerising effect. The dancers provided an incredible depth of emotion in their movements and while they focused the audience’s attention, the music was not a mere accompaniment to them and each element of the performance complimented the other. There was great variety in the emphasis of each dance, with fun and energised pieces contrasting the more sombre and gentler performances. Dramatic pauses in the music accentuated the hand gestures of the dancers and their drive built up through complicated footwork.

The audience loved Bandaluzis Flamenco: the precise execution of the dance was alluring and the music accentuated this appeal, demonstrating the sensual nature of the flamenco sound.

Reviewed by Lily Mei.

The night was hosted by A.H Cayley and Matt Roden. While Cayley admitted that it gets harder with each event to try and dig up a new confession, she still pulled through with a fun piece. Starting with a I-swear-I’m-a-good-person set up, Cayley built a story that depended on the audience’s foresight and developed around a foot in mouth I-thought-he-might-have-died moment that turned out to be the reality of the situation.

Matt Banham began his confession by reassuring the audience “it’s alright, I’m drunker than you”. And while his slurred speech was a little incomprehensible at times, Banham demonstrated the reason Confession Booth is so entertaining: the event takes well known people and puts them in a relaxed environment, speaking on a personal subject that means they engage with the audience. Banham laughed ominously and took great joy in remembering the climaxes of his stories before he shared them. Though he spoke for a while, which became tiring, the audience listened and laughed with the same enthusiasm and fascination you’d observe an entertaining drunk friend with.

Tracey Spicer’s piece was clever and layered, confessing she had sinned she spoke about everything from masturbating with a hairbrush to succumbing to vanity. She epitomised the perfect poise of newsreaders but subverted expectations in her content, and even said the word cunt.

Roden read out a series of anonymous audience confessions and did a great job of balancing the element of surprise. While he identified that one confession was misogynistic and refused to read it, he maintained a fun tone that was consistent with the feel of the night.

Benjamin Law presented a story that played on a depiction of the perfect straight-A primary school student. In a hilarious over-dramatisation that played with ethnic stereotypes, he told us with terror about the time he mutilated a book of genitals.

Finally, Yumi Stynes ended the night by getting really fired up over sport and psychics. Unfortunately the laptop she read from blocked her face, causing a bit of disconnect with the audience who couldn’t see the expression on her face or much of her movements (though there was punching).

All up, Confession Booth is a great night, filled with a mix-bag of personalities and ton of laughs. They’ll be doing their thing again in Newcastle for the National Young Writers’ Festival on Sunday 5 October.

Reviewed by Lily Mei

The first performance was instantly dramatic: Cruelo DeVil appeared in a black corsage with fishnets under ripped jeans, sporting a quiff with a silver streak. He opened with a pop song mash up, announcing this was his first world tour. Despite a series of fun numbers including ‘Colours of the Wind’, from Diney’s Pocahontas, DeVil ended on a more serious note with ‘All the Things You Are’. The success with which he carried off these songs was a testament to his great talent as a singer, and strength as an entertainer.

Carlo Ritchie’s skit built from a line provided by an audience member, “buy more potatoes.” His first few jokes were a bit of a flop, but once he had a few laughs, he really gained momentum. His story of a failed potato farm developed into a vendetta against weevils, and proceeded to educate the audience on the constitutional monarchy of potato weevils – apparently a serious threat to the human race – delivered with deadpan hilarity.

A definite highlight, music duo Scarratt Patch, both members of harmony group The Acappelicans, announced they would be playing a cover of the Dixie Chicks song ‘Sin Wagon’. They played an excerpt of ‘Sin Wagon’ from an iPhone before telling everyone they were disappointed in how the song didn’t concentrate enough on the wagon. The guys struck a good balance between comedy and music, and quickly found a good momentum. Their rendition maintained the integrity of the melody while the lyrics focused on a wagon that feasted on sinner’s souls.

Other performers of the night included James Van Wilson, postmodern striptease performer Irene Nicola, poet Tom Fishwick, and Rubee Sookee. This strange event brought together a weird and unrelated variety of performers, but the craziness worked, primarily because the group felt like a family. Alexander Vanderboom certainly is a circus.
Reviewed by Lily Mei

The concept of AMANDA was interesting: put a hoodlum in a room with two cops and explore what got her there. Throughout the play, each character told us “we must love each other or we die”, and while Hood thought it was an insightful quote and Kovac thought it a painfully honest depiction of human nature, Amanda only repeated the phrase because it was a lie. The tensionin AMANDA was palpable and contributed to developing a sense of intrigue, however the execution of the play was overwhelming; in the seventy-minute performance, not only did we get Amanda’s life story with flashbacks, but also heard about Hood’s troubles – he watched his brother be run over by a truck– and Kovac’s, “turns out you can get pregnant the first time”.

These tragedies were briefly spoken about, hardly discussed and identified only as a reflection on theories about nature and nurture. The issues were not given thoughtful consideration or respect, which meant that controversial lines on death, suicide, prescription drug abuse and rape remained offensive and insensitive rather than insightful. They appeared attempts to criticise the system but as flippant remarks, they seemed to confuse dramatic and comical effect.

As the play progressed, relationships between characters appeared unrealistic and strange, opening with a police interrogation in which Amanda kissed Officer Kovac and Kovac slapped Amanda.These relationships, which consistently explored power structures, only made sense on the performance’s conclusion when it was established the setting was in a kind of afterlife. Elements of absurdism were introduced with a disappearing door and references to the theory of molecular transfer, which added humour but confused the plot, and made it difficult for the audience to follow what was going on.

Langham provided the most consistent and believable performances as Senior Sergeant Hood, while Griffin played a very deliberate and articulate Amanda. In the greatest demonstration of Macgregor’s talent was a musical interlude in which she sung a ballad, however it seemed incongruous with the play’s style. When they were not involved in a scene, the actors remained silent on stage. This provided a reflective setting that also alluded to the audience’s involvement, providing an omnipresence thatsuggested that all life stories are connected, reinforcing Amanda’s theory that “bits of them became bits of me”.

Overall, AMANDA provided unclear and varied reflections on life and death. Towards the end of the play, there was an emphasis on hope that left the audience wondering whether we were supposed to change our positions on nature and nurture theories or whether Amanda had changed hers. This conclusion seemed inconsistent with Amanda’s characterisation and the audience were left questioning how or why such a resolute and creepy character would end her story like this. While the plot was confusing, it was the careless treatment of serious issues that was problematic and most disappointing.

Reviewed by Lily Mei