In The Cut Volume 3 took place in a Carlton basement – its walls covered in artwork – all created by Melbourne street artists. Ranging from impressive full-scale prints of beautiful, curvaceous Native American babes, to cardboard-based political statements, to complex psychedelic images – all pieces kept everyones eyes admirably transfixed.
Some of the works were by up-and-coming artists, while others were created by those more established, however all certainly well-worth eye-time.

Backgrounded by the dope DJs, the night began with fresh and edgy, yet sophisticated, art viewing. Following a few free beers/wines, In The Cut began to bust out the big moves with a young and very talented MC, sided by a band. As the MC took a breather, the band’s brass group took over, reeling the funk and raising most from their milk-carton seating and onto their dancing feet.

Despite being marketed as displaying street art, the work wasn’t what many imagine ‘street art’ to be – spray painted stencils, tags and the like. However, In The Cut’s works were neat, interesting and full of talent – sketches, prints, sculptures and light box demonstrations – something that most people would appreciate and enjoy.

Though In The Cut ran from 8pm until 1am, it wasn’t a big enough exhibition to spend that long there. Despite this, it was the perfect event to spend a couple of hours at, enjoying the art and music, and free beers – how could you go wrong? A fun and well-organised event, I have high hopes that In The Cut will return next year for volume 4. If so, pop on your monocle, your best dancing shoes and head down for a funky arts overload.

Mark (Leigh Ormsby) and Cathy (Rebecca Fortuna) love each other but their dissatisfaction with their banal lives start to ebb away at their relationship, making them scathing and resentful to each other. They use travel, drugs and sex to deflect their responsibilities to each other and their lives. They seek help from the seductive Lilly (Dayna Boase), a psychiatrist, who only quells their problems with more prescription medication. Mark’s friend Liam (James Straiton) offers him some LSD to alleviate his boredom, while Max (Billal Hassani) watches in disgust, threatening to kill everyone.

The problem with ‘Life is Something’ is that there is only so much to discuss in a one-hour play. It ends up sweeping over everyday philosophical quandaries but never fully grasping it. Liam provides us with moments of poignant reflection, but it is quickly forgotten within the next scene. Perhaps that’s exactly what Vlady T wants to address – life isn’t filled with deep, philosophical epiphanies. Nor do we remember all of it.

While the play does not push any conventional boundaries of theatre, it certainly gives it a good hard jab in the chest, cleverly appropriating elements of Theatre of the Absurd into the play’s narrative and structure. ‘Life is Something’ seems like an interesting but meaningless play at first, so to sustain our interest, we try to add meaning from their situation.

Despite it enhancing the absurdity of the play, the breaking of the fourth wall is very tacky and done too often. It feels very contrived. Having set up the characters for monologues, the sudden addition of this reflexive style – Cathy is aware we are all watching her – proves jarring to the play’s pace. But again, perhaps this is just another reference to life’s ups and downs!

‘Life is Something’ is not a perfect play, but neither is life. If you like to have your head philosophically messed with, this might be the play for you.

Then shuffle around as a cheerful Josephine Were stumbles through the audience, laden with luggage, and wait for her to begin the poetic one-woman show that is Just Like The Movies.

Were’s piece takes inspiration from her solo trip across the USA, which she initially pegged as a snog-fest of American lads, only to discover less Hollywood realities. The poetry that she wrote during this time forms the backbone of the piece, as she moves from New York to San Francisco, picking up cowboys and hippies.

Rhyming performances can carry multiple pitfalls, but the delivery is far from annoying. Instead Were is warm, with a persistent and apparently genuine smile. We begin with close encounters on an aircraft, and are soothed by her rhythmic reflections on all the movie clichés that got away.

The space leaves little room for distraction or distance. The experiences on the road, while disconnected in some places, have a rambling that’s both knowing and nicely in time. How do you escape a sleazy hostel owner using rhyming descriptions of B.B King? Josephine Were will show you how.

Kudos should go to musical accompaniment by Matthew Gregan, who opens the show with an all-American tune and anchors Were’s poetry. More interaction between the two would perhaps give the piece a more cohesive feel.

A performance meant for a lounge room – this is a good thing. These observations aren’t meant for the masses but rather are secrets for the wise few who have chosen the place of audience. Check it out for the venue, the music and to live, vicariously, on the open American road.

Red Bennies isn’t the circus by any stretch but through shows such as The Contortion and Hand-balancing Spectacular! it can give you a small one-hour long taste.

Starting 15 minutes late, the exuberant female host Giuseppe came out revving the crowd up before getting the show started and calling out the performers.

I didn’t expect to be particularly impressed by the acts but I was. There were many highlights, a teenage girl hand balancing, lifting her entire body up and balancing on one arm, legs moving around even touching her own head. Audience members on either side lent forward in amazement as well as awkwardness that she would fall, but she didn’t. Meanwhile I was pretending to stretch seeing if I could even touch my toes.

There was young aerial contortionist Mim Conyers, swinging around almost touching audience members, performing to the song Life on Mars.

There was a dance-a-thon with the host and a man Joe plucked out of the audience that went on too long, which had you wondering whether they were running out of acts.

But they weren’t, where some of us might find it tough to even complete a dance act well, Jacinta Rohan can do it while spinning a hula hoop on her toes.

At Red Bennies, make sure to get in early, the seating is impractical with a number of benches near the stage and limited seating upstairs. For the 90 or so people that were there, there wasn’t room for everyone.

If you don’t want to splurge going to Circ du Soleil, or see something unusual then this could be for you.

It might even have you trying to touch your toes.

Another Contortion and Hand-Balancing Spectacular! different performers will show on Saturday the 8^th of October at 7pm at Red Bennies.

With this subject matter on mind, you expect the play to be troubling and dark, but the performance is surprisingly funny. As a sufferer of bipolar disease, Combe mocks the illness, singing out lyrics about suggested treatments…‘Don’t forget to hug a tree, cause if you hug a tree, you get more chi!’ Her frank outlook and raw truth is charming and she dances about the stage switching between her moods with exuberance. Despite this sparkling energy it feels like you’re being held at a distance as the performance progresses, as if walking towards a hidden object while someone yells “warmer!” There are moments, however, when this distance disappears. The disturbing and mystifying nature of mental illness is exposed and these moments are well worth waiting for.

The most compelling and endearing aspect of the performance is Johannsen’s songs. Lingering and affecting, his beautifully rough voice sings original songs that offer the audience a deeper comprehension of the effects of mental illness, not only on the sufferer, but also on their loved ones and carers. Evidently, their commitment to each other is outstanding and perhaps it’s the ‘fairytale’ power of love that shines through here.

‘Death in a box…one pussy’s tale!’ no doubt raises thoughts and questions about mental illness. It’s an informal, beautiful performance that leaves you slightly sad, but ultimately optimistic.

The first “snatch” (I assume), started in the foyer as the audience waited to enter the theatre. A woman dressed as a pirate shouted a monologue and guided the audience onto the ship (i.e., inside the theatre). The stage was decorated with a string of umbrellas hanging wall-to-wall and a bizarre squid-like object suspended over the stage. The lighting gave the theatre a noir-like atmosphere and set the scene for just over two-hours of short plays – all of them unusual, some serious, and most of them, hilariously funny.

Highlights included: Caitlin Crowley’s “The Spirit of Violet Crumble” where the theatre was transformed into a funeral procession, and the outrageous Violet Crumble (i.e., a bearded man, Jack McLardie, in a silk dress), commented on the funeral and insulted the audience members (or the mourners). This was followed by, Tony Avard’s “Reflections on a Train”, a dialogue between two ex-classmates that subtly examined male insecurities and the lasting impact of homophobia. Jemma van Loenen’s “Embrace” was one of the longer pieces in the production, which told the story of a socially inept man, Raymond, and his awkward romance with a woman who moves in next door; the quirky love story was narrated live and images were projected on the wall to support the story. PoisE’n, a sexually charged dance trio, were unexpected, but in retrospect seemed to compliment the absurdity of the overall production quite well.

Mick Mezza’s “Good Boys, Bad Boys” was perhaps the strongest piece in the production, a ridiculous cop drama that left many audience members laughing hysterically well after its conclusion. Overall, Snatches was a wonderfully absurd evening of short performance pieces.

In Bluey, Spencer uses a monkey puppet Alfred to tell the story of his father, a British RAF Sergeant sent off to Iraq for six months in 2003.

Spencer goes through the journey that his father went on overseas with Alfred’s deep voice memorably bellowing “I’ve been a chef for over 20 years and here I am monitoring a Paki guy cooking nine hours a day.”

At home Spencer tells of the family conflict that came from him protesting his father being in the armed forces.

The performer doesn’t try and be either a ventriloquist or an expert puppeteer, but for the first ten minutes where the monkey is a novelty all eyes will be on the puppet.

Spencer jokingly asks the audience to imagine that they are in Iraq, that the stool is a bunk bed and that the stage is surrounded by desert.

Spencer is also good at moving the puppet, even having it hilariously lie down on the bunks.

With the help of guitarist Brett playing thrash- metal raid sirens, you do almost feel like you are there.

The show isn’t hilarious, but it isn’t trying to be. With Spencer and Brett’s good banter there are no lulls throughout.

The performance is informative and Spencer’s confident stage manner ensures that the short and sharp piece (50 minutes) is laced with laughs .

Spencer picks a member of the audience to put on his father’s protective army suit that the soldiers frustratingly had to put on multiple times a night and wear. With the chosen audience member on the night taking forever to take their shoes off and adorn the army pants, Spencer remarked “have you got locks on those shoes?”

Situated in The Loft of the Lithuanian Club in North Melbourne the show deserved far more audience members than there were. If you go just remember to undo your laces first.

‘Mystic Bubblegum’ turn s out to be a surprisingly accurate title for this performance. The two ditzy young adventure-seeking simpletons journey through parallel universes in the search for a magical missing crystal that will turn their modest lady lumps into gigantic balloons.

With a cast of around seven, the two female leads Kate Geck and Melanie Fulton were the definite standouts, drawing chuckles from the crowd with cleverly phrased quips and catchy bursts of songs. The costumes are elaborate and creative, from the ‘uniturd,’ being a great brown poop with a unicorn, to the gate-keeping wizard with staff and glittering spiked back and multi-coloured shaggy dog, helping to whisk the audience away to the magical ‘land of poo.’

While there are some definite chuckles from the clever turns of phrase, it’s not a laugh out loud type of performance. The acting abilities from the supporting cast let down the overall effect, but the charm and creativity of the storyline makes up for these flaws. Another plus is the original electronic tunes used for the background music and songs, an awesome accompaniment to get you bopping in your seat and immersed in the storyline.

Slightly rude and crude, but enchanting nonetheless, ‘Mystic Bubblegum’ is a musical, whimsical delight of two young friends on a journey.

Fiona filled more than one person’s eyes with tears at the end and it wasn’t from laughter.

No.  It was sad. Sad to watch a lady with such talent breakdown before us.

I just don’t know what to say. I’m not reviewing the show, but I’m certainly not condemning her.  What she did was brave. She came out with a strong, brave face, but what was unveiled was a struggling comic.

She began the show talking about how 20 years ago in Cairns an audience member came up to her during the show and said ‘just go home’. She referred to this as one of the many points in her life when she died a little.

This anecdote held a new meaning by the end of the show – which was cut 20 minutes short.

She was worried. Would she be criticised like that again tonight? I sincerely hope not.

You could tell Fiona wasn’t OK. She wasn’t her usual bright, talkative self. There was a lot of silence, which sometimes turned awkward.

She commented about going through menopause and while struggling to recall material passed it over to the audience for a Q and A.

While one man – a confessed alcoholic – went up and offered Fiona affection and support, another audience member asked ‘Are you back on the grog?’ To which Fiona replied ‘No. Valium.’

Fiona babbled about the fact that ‘we’re all idiots’ at some point.

Then after apologising for wasting our time and saying that we can get our money back, she sat for a while trying to think of something good to leave us with.

In the end she went with the truth. Her heart was ‘breaking into 5 million pieces right now.’

With that she looked over the audience, now shocked and teary, and said a sad farewell.

Fiona was a wreck, but I commend her for coming out and not cancelling. She’s always been honest and told it how it is and that’s what we got.

I don’t think she will be doing any more Fringe shows.

My heart goes out to her and I hope she recovers and we see her back on the comedy circuit soon.