The concept behind Worst Side Story may be one of the most elegant fringe show ideas you’ve ever heard. Its creators, Brandon Mannarino and Leigh Qurban, had never seen West Side Story and, for that reason, they adapted it. Their piece’s self-reflexivity and self-deprecation mean that it is not just a parody of the original. Rather, it is a playful parody of its creators and their process. This proves both entertaining and deeply rewarding.

If you’ve seen West Side Story you can probably predict what Worst Side Story might look like. If you haven’t then let it suffice to say that the latter piece is, partially, an exaggeration of generic love story tropes. However, this only describes one of the piece’s mimetic levels. Intercut with the vague reimagining of West Side Story is a fictionalised account of the creative process behind it. This self-reflexivity defines the piece.

While self-reflexivity is usually employed to reflect on a work’s artful process of creation, Mannarino and Qurban employ it here to reflect on their work’s artless process of creation. This is perhaps the most important method of deriving humour in the piece. Even the most juvenile jokes within the adaptation (or parody) of West Side Story become deeply entertaining in the context of the artists’ self-aware ignorance.

The theatrical and filmic realisation of the concept is, not dazzling, but perfectly fitting. The scenes that focus of the creation of Worst Side Story seem to be shot, on a camcorder, with little to no regard for cinematography. This lack of production values imbues the faux-documentary with more verisimilitude than can be seen anywhere else in the play. After all, this is the story of two hopeless artists. Likewise, the shoddy theatricality is very realistic.

Considering how crucial the flaws of the production are to its success, there is only one criticism that can be levelled at it: Worst Side Story could have gone further. Its concept is genius. Adapting not from West Side Story but some vague and indeterminate space laterally opposed to it should have provided the writers with a brilliant opportunity to create a text with some originality. No text exists in a vacuum, but Mannarino and Qurban managed to create their own little pocket-sized simulacrum of one. Instead of using this basis to its ultimate extent they settle into parody. Of course, it is a clever, self-deprecating form of parody, and is deeply entertaining, but there are so many places this concept could be taken.

That, however, is a minor theoretical issue that shouldn’t detract from the show as it is: self-deprecating, self-reflexive, and hilarious. Its season at the Adelaide Fringe may be over but it definitely merits seeing if it is reprised. Worst Side Story is crass, over-the-top and more than clever enough to make that work.

Worst Side Story has finished its run at the Adelaide Fringe, but they are hoping to stage it in Melbourne in the future.

Run Girl Run is a cleverly devised exploration of gender politics condensed into two treadmill cycles. Many contemporary theatre pieces share its concerns, but this show, presented by Grit Theatre, tackles them in a fashion so direct that it feels unique.

The lights go up on three treadmills, which three people soon fill.  What follows is an hour of running, drinking, and seemingly empty conversation. It’s like Waiting for Godot for a generation with gym memberships and low self-esteem. The characters are constantly running without moving forward. They are simultaneously exercising and drinking to excess. They talk with one another, but only to reach the narrowest possible consensus.

It does not have a traditional plot. Instead, it finds form in conversational motifs that perfectly assert the crippling, systematic imposition of this culture’s fixation on body image. The details of the conversation are often too stunted and mundane to be entertaining in their own right. However, that is not to say that the sum of the parts is anything short of insightful.  The conversation as a whole is ingeniously structured around the building speed of the treadmill. Manifestations of underlying self-doubt intensify to hysterical self-disgust as the pace of the machines increases.

Run Girl Run has been described as high energy, but really this physical energy only comes in bursts at the end of the treadmill cycle. It is easy to be impressed by the physical endurance of the actors (they do run continuously and drink a lot), but that is to ignore the point of the show. What the cast, comprised of Tom Browne, Laura Hughes and Clare Phillips, succeed in is less gimmicky than simply running for an hour. It is instead their keen timing and perfectly emphasised delivery of crucial conversation motifs that deserve praise.

Run Girl Run is an invigorating theatre piece, but not because of the physical endurance of the actors. It is instead how the show uses its central oxymoron: stationary motion, and how it uses emotionally stunted characters to reach powerful emotional climaxes.

Run Girl Run’s Adelaide season has ended, but you can get information about Grit Theatre’s upcoming productions here.

Reviewed by Alice

This past Saturday night the queens in Glamourzon worked it out! Well, mostly. Being a dedicated follower of RuPaul’s Drag Race I know what I expect from a drag-queen showcase extravaganza and Glamourzon was just a few diamantes short of a necklace.

When going to a drag-show you expect not only the queens to be beautifully dressed but the set as well. The stage did not have anything added to it at all, it was just a black stage, with black curtains on a black floor, surrounded by black tables and black chairs; which, is particularly disappointing as the talent deserved more than their dreary backdrop.

The show was compered by Rita Demore’e, who started her host duties after performing the first lip-sync of the night to a dance version of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s ‘Don’t Cry for Me Argentina’. The performance was only okay, it went on a little too long, and much like Rita’s emcee skills it lacked a certain charisma. I must say however, by the second half of the show Rita Demore’e had settled as host and started to get a few hearty laughs from the audience.

Along with Rita five other queens presented their uniqueness and talent in Glamourzon. Kristina Crème was the second queen to take the stage and unfortunately she was easily forgotten when presented alongside the massive personalities and miming skills of the other performers. Although, I was extremely impressed, during her second song, where she managed four costume reveals.

In a show of mostly 80s ballads, the ‘dancing queen’ Selena was a shot of Red Bull to the heart and something the audience was obviously gagging for. Both of Selena’s lip-syncing performances were high energy dance routines and her version of Britney Spears’ ‘Womanizer’ was pure, smile from ear-to-ear, booty shaking entertainment.

Despite both her lip-syncs being on the ballad-y side, Hollie Graffixs’ costumes stole the show. From now on anybody who performs a Beyoncé number should take costume advice from Miss Graffix; in fact even you Beyoncé (who I know is definitely reading this review).

Edie Star was the only queen to sing live in Glamourzon. While this is extremely daring in a show full of mimicking, her voice was not perfected enough to truly make an impact. The songs Edie Star chose were a bit dull and she sang off tune several times.

The best of the night though, without a doubt, was Miss Molly. For her first number she lip-synced ‘Imagination’ from Willie Wonka & the Chocolate Factory while dressed as a super fabulous version of Maleficent from Disney’s Sleeping Beauty. It was fucking amazing! Her lip-syncing skills would be hard matched even by the most experienced of drag-queens, which she confirmed in her second number INXS’ ‘Never Tear Us Apart’. I would pay good money to see a Miss Molly solo-cabaret – can somebody please fund this! Now!

Overall, I was just missing a bit of glamour from Glamourzon. While the show seemed poorly put together, there is no denying the beauty and talent of these Adelaide-an drag-queens. We have a wonderful drag culture in Adelaide and if you get the chance to see any of these queens hold onto it like the last dress in your size, during a sale, at your favourite store.

Glamourzon has now finished its season at the Adelaide Fringe 2014

What would you expect from a Fringe musical in which two Catholic choir girls find meaning in life in the form of David Bowie? Obviously nothing that takes itself too seriously. In that sense, Bel Canto Bowie delivers much more than expected. Although it is often beautiful musically, the show emphasises its deficiencies over its proficiencies.

As the title implies, Bel Canto Bowie presents bel canto re-workings of David Bowie’s music. It’s exactly the kind of nostalgic stylistic fusion that feels at home in La Bohème. Writer-directors and performers, Natalie Oliveri and Adriana Sturman have beautiful, well-trained voices. Even with only a piano for accompaniment their renditions of old favourites are soaring and enjoyable.

These songs are framed by a flippant, lightly didactic tale in which the choirgirls learn that classical music and 70’s pop are both valuable styles. The fact that Oliveri and Sturman thought it necessary to qualify their synthesis, however, gives the impression that they have doubts as to its value. Of course, the audience already know the value of both styles. After all, they bought tickets to a show called Bel Canto Bowie. As such, the moral of the story seems more for the benefit of the performers then their crowd.

If the plot serves to offset flaws apparent to the artists, then its delivery serves to offset flaws apparent to everyone. The ridiculous acting seems like an indirect apology by the actors for their self-consciousness. Remember the kid in your high-school drama class­­ who, when forced to actually be on stage, played their performance off as a joke so as to distance themselves from any embarrassment? The performances in Bel Canto Bowie are reminiscent of that. The jokes are juvenile, their delivery over the top, and after a time the cast start to relish in this.

Somehow, this spiral of self-consciousness translates into joy. What’s more, it is received with uproarious laughter.  Everything, from the trash devil getting his coat caught on the piano-stool to the perplexingly staged audience intervention, has the La Bohème crowd on the edge of gleeful tears.

Bel Canto Bowie may not be a well-constructed piece of musical theatre. Self-consciousness may not be certain to translate into comedy. But for some reason the audience seem to like it. Regardless, the music is entertaining and the laughs are cheap, if you can get them half price.

Bel Canto Bowie, La Bohème, Mar 5 to Mar 16

Third year AC Arts students present Rip, Drag & Ruminate, a collection of five short dance pieces choreographed and performed by the students. There is some overlap in the themes, props and technical factors of each, but no overriding theme.

This show is disappointing. With the students more than two thirds through their Bachelor of Creative Arts (Dance), one would certainly expect more from the dancing; but, the talent was subpar. It is concerning for the performers that they will be released into the wider world of dance in less than a year, without the skills to construct and present a professional dance show. Due to the overwhelming amount of slow choreography and stillness used in the five works, the audience was privy to every shaking hand, fumbled grip, readjusted hold and misjudgement in spacing or timing.

Furthermore, many of the choreographers were distracted by props and other effects, forgetting that the audience was really there for the dancing, and not the flashing of lights or rolls of paper. They were exciting props, but poorly utilised. The music was also disheartening, especially in the first performance, Find the Light, which starts with an intriguing political speech with eerie sound effects; instead of continuing with this backing, Konstanz Symeonakis changes the music to a slow and unimaginative track. Combine this with uninspired and simple choreography, and you get a lacklustre start to the overall showcase.

The show continues on with O & C by Emma Watkins, the only piece that isn’t dark, deep and suspenseful. It uses the ideas of obsession, compulsion, and daydreaming (to interrupt the OCD type thought processes). The dancing, both in performance and choreography, improves from the first piece, but lacks emotional or thematic power. The props are somewhat more intriguing, but the dialogue is ordinary and adds little to the experience.

Taylor Whitchurch’s Words, Letters, Language has a compelling beginning. A roll of paper is stretched across the stage like a runway. The three performers, Cazna Brass, Ellicia Britton and Konstanz Symeonakis, repeat the see no evil, hear no evil, say no evil images. Their bodies are covered in writing and they madly scribble on the paper. But with a projection of banal phrases and continued reliance on the writing and iconic poses, the piece loses its dramatic tension. That said, there is some interesting choreography in their piece. The use of gridlines is effective, if cliché, and the group connectivity and lifts are notable.

The Vanity by Samuel Koh is the fourth work presented. The program claims the work to represent ‘the narcissistic dialogue between who you are and who you think you are.’ This is the only piece where the choreographers intended meaning is truly unclear. It seems to reflect the disparity between what we say and what we mean. With the red lighting and final image of a dancer’s body being dragged behind a closed door, the piece feels murderous by its conclusion. However, the dancing is fast, dramatic and utilises the space well. The use of the door as moving architecture is the one well-executed prop.

Subliminal is the final piece. Courtney Cox does not use props or special lighting effects. Her focus remains on the choreography, which is the strength of Subliminal. She falls into the trap of slow movements and lifts, allowing the audience to see the performer’s errors. But on the whole, the dancing is of a higher quality than much of Rip, Drag & Ruminate. There are several standout moments which are beautiful and fluid.

Rip, Drag & Ruminate is not well executed. For students of dance, who wish to attain a career in the performing arts industry, it is an unexpected failure. For the many high school groups in the audience, it is not a performance to aspire to; rather, it is one to surpass.

Rip, Drag & Ruminate has finished it’s season at the Adelaide Fringe 2014.

Squidboy is an award winning show by physical theatre extraordinaire Trygve Wakenshaw. The show boasts sold out seasons across national and international  festivals. Rightly so. Wakenshaw is hilarious in his randomness.

His character is unsure whether he is a fisherman, who dreams of being a squid; or a squid, who dreams of being a fisherman. The dreamlike transitions allow Wakenshaw to construct a detailed imaginary world. Did you know that squids invented corners? Or that they can become trapped within an elevator, but escape by remembering that it’s imaginary? Each twist and turn of this absurd story is completely unpredictable. Wakenshaw invites audiences to simply let go and enjoy the ride. Logic is overrated.

With an education in clowning, Wakenshaw’s performance can be better likened to mime, with occasional sound effects. His skill in creating a myriad of sounds is remarkable and his comic timing is impeccable. There are minimal lighting or audio effects, but Wakenshaw doesn’t need them. He interacts with the audience, encouraging them to act like they are eating a shared packet of chips and then whatever farm animal happens to wander by. The noisy munching is side-splittingly funny, especially as audience members struggle to imitate the performer.

For some, this show might be too weird, although it does maintain a plot — however irrational — which is different from his new work, Kraken. But Squidboy is executed with amazing skill and creativity. It is a gem of performance; certainly worth seeing. With its extensive travel, you might still be in with a chance, even if you miss the show in this year’s Adelaide Fringe.

Squidboy has finished its season at the 2014 Adelaide Fringe.

The audience is led through the raked seating, up the stairs, across the stage and into the cramped backstage of Holden Street Theatre’s venue, The Arch. The space left for the performers is limited to about two square metres.

The intimate show is just half an hour, a one-act play by Neil LaBute that follows John (played by Eddie Morrison) and Sue (played by Chelsea Evans) as the story of their relationship and romantic road trip turns violent. Lisa Waite constructs a complex performance with just the two actors, one amusing prop in the form of a remote control car, and voice recordings which alternate with the live dialogue.

The performances of Morrison and Evans are strong; with consistent accents, good physicality, and emotive expressions. At first, the Mormon couple are endearing and the audience is drawn into their anticipation for an amazing night at their Church’s youth ball. However, the plot quickly morphs, in its second half, to the vivid recollection of a hate crime against a homosexual man. The murder is swift, shocking and graphic in its description. Morrison is particularly compelling in this part, but both actors convey the subtlety of the script — including questions of John’s sexuality and whether Sue’s sympathy and kindness extends only to those she considers worthy.

 A Gaggle of Saints is an exceptional play, delivered well by Colourwheel Productions at Holden Street Theatres. It will leave you thinking for days after the final bow.

A Gaggle of Saints has now finished its run

As a stunningly high cheek-boned, sinewy blonde walks on stage, dressed in an Adam Ant jacket and ladies trousers, immediately this is like no circus show that I’ve seen this Fringe. This is Idris Stanton, and he is your host for this evening of jaw-dropping feats of human strength, elegance and agility. With his flat Victorian drawl and eye-lined lids, he is reminiscent of Tim Minchin or Guy Pearce in Priscilla, and he has the comedic timing and easy rapport with the crowd to back up those lofty comparisons.

Soon we meet the rest of the cast of Papillon, a show all about transformation; and over this night of debauchery, looks certainly can be deceiving.  These performers completely understand the need for misdirection and surprise that good circus demands and, as a result, Papillon is chock full of gorgeous, scary and hilarious moments.

Take, for example, the pair of women who come on stage resplendent in navy leotards fit for the Russian Olympic ice-skating team. Accompanied by lilting instrumental music, the smaller girl begins to ascend the larger with astonishingly moving ease; at one point even standing on her head. Or, there’s the gorgeous topless strongman whose cheeky antics (dressed as a lion, chased by his out-of-work tamer) are complemented by his grace as he balances, stretched sideways and single handed, on two poles. Musical interludes are provided by the cute-as-a-button Mimi Andrews, belting out pop arrangements and giving the audience a good giggle.

The second half of the show takes on a more dangerous, exhilarating tone, and certainly pushes the boundaries of what modern circus can be. An impressive baton juggling display is conducted by Idris and the ‘strong woman’ from the first act; the fact that they swap in and out of tossing the same batons is remarkable enough, but then they resume with a few extra batons and proceed to switch clothes as well. Subverting the traditional gender expectations of circus is a clear goal for these performers, and I for one appreciated their fresh take. The audience is on the edge of their seats as the acts become more and more perilous – this is circus at its raw, edgy best.

Their run might be sold out for this Fringe, but make a concerted effort to see the next production that Highwire Entertainment bring to town – it is certain not to disappoint.

Papillon, Gluttony – The Peacock, Feb 28 to Mar 15

As much an acrobatic spectacle as it is an intimate musical performance, Katie Noonan’s Love-Song Circus is an elegant ode to the plight of early Australian convict women.

Although perhaps best known for her work with Aria award-winning rock band George, Noonan has also pursued a successful solo career that has so far encompassed a number of diverse genres including opera, jazz, pop and dance. This year she has returned to the Adelaide Fringe as its official ambassador to present her latest passion project; an amalgamation of music and circus that creates a fitting tribute to an often overlooked chapter of Australian history.

The show was inspired by Noonan’s exploration into letters penned by the first convict women to loved ones they had left behind. The classically trained singer devoted her time to getting inside the minds of these individuals and translated their messages into a series of songs that combine contemporary musical elements with traditional folk.

Noonan’s flawless vocal performance proves why she is consistently rated among this country’s top singer-songwriters. With her pure timbre, subtle dynamics and a range that spans multiple octaves, her voice has an ethereal, otherworldly quality that is every bit as graceful as the three Circa aerialists who accompany her. Backed by a talented string quartet and guitarist, the music alone could be considered inspiring enough to do away with the circus act.

As impressive as the acrobats are, some routines do work better than others. The contemporary dance numbers mostly come across as forced and somewhat awkward and there are a few noticeable slip-ups. However, there are also some truly remarkable moments as the women twirl through the air showcasing their incredible strength, agility and grace, physically mirroring Noonan’s often intense lyrics.

Love-Song Circus is a sophisticated and moving performance that highlights a difficult but important period of our country’s past.

Katie Noonan & Circa: Love-Song Circus, Garden of Unearthly Delights – Paradiso Spiegeltent, March 14 to March 16

“I’ve been living a lie!” exclaims the shiny-haired, safari-suit wearing lounge singer as he bursts onto the stage of the Arts Theatre. The one and only Bob Downe is back for another year at the Adelaide Fringe and this time he has a surprise in store.

With a career spanning over three decades, the flamboyant alter-ego of comedian Mark Trevorrow has become something of a Fringe staple. Downe is also an Australian household name in his own right, boasting appearances on iconic shows such as Kath and Kim and Good News Week, as well as hosting his own series The Bob Downe Show. His unequivocally camp attitude has been his consistent trademark ever since his debut on Good Morning Murillumbah in 1984, but it seems like that is now all about to change.

I’m referring of course to the shock revelation that Downe is actually straight. The clever reverse coming-out narrative sets the context for the evening, although unsurprisingly, his new straight persona isn’t exactly convincing. His dress sense remains unchanged and he cavorts around the theatre as jovial as ever. To his credit though, he does repeatedly make an amusing effort to sit with his legs splayed rather than crossed.

Downe’s recent personal struggles aside, the singer demonstrates his expert musicianship as he brings to life classics of the ‘60s, ‘70s and ‘80s. Backed by local three-piece band The Full Catastrophe, Downe doesn’t skip a beat as he struts along the stage, flashing his pearly whites and showcasing his decidedly impressive voice. Some of the numbers may be lost on younger audiences, uninitiated with the music of decades past, but Downe also works clever topical and observational humour into his act which helps to bridge the divide.

Glitzy, energetic and unabashedly camp, the latest offering from this enduring comedy character is sure to please fans.

Bob Downe – Bob, Sweat and Tears, Arts Theatre, March 13 to March 15