Through circus, physical theatre and fairytale-like storytelling, A Little Rain Must Fall transports you to a magical world of adventure, fun and colour.

Daisy is maid to the lady of the house. When dusting she discovers an enormous box that, according to the label, has been left for her mistress. However Daisy’s curiosity gets the best of her and she opens the box. From the box a troupe of brightly dressed performers appear, delighting Daisy with their tricks and stories. Although Daisy is warned that if she dares to open the box, a little rain must fall, she cannot resist opening the box again and again. But Daisy should have heeded the warning as the stories the performers tell become darker and lead to serious consequences.

The performers are captivating and engaging, skilfully creating their colourful world with energy and imagination. Apart from a few misbehaving props and a dress covered in plastic baubles that had a tendency to break off, A Little Rain Must Fall draws us into its own reality and keeps us there.

A Little Rain Must Fall runs until Sunday 22 February at 5:15pm. Tickets can be purchased here

Three choreographic teams take over Perth’s Riverview Hotel in this co-produced dance piece making its debut at Fringe World. Built around the parking lot, a hotel room and the lobby this dance work employs three choreographic teams to inhabit and revolutionise the heart of this contemporary hotel.

Imagio-Mio the first of the three works inhabits the front bar and lobby. The elegant and controlled movements of Rachel Arianne Ogle juxtaposed with the dishevelled Timothy Ohl establish characters that set the scene for a transformation reminiscent of My Fair Lady. With inverted lifts, hammers, torches, and underwear the audience was enthralled as Ogle transformed Ohl and the two were united in an elegant duet. Paul Selwyn Norton did well to choreograph characters and a journey that owned and belonged to this otherwise ordinary public space.

Gabrielle Nankivell’s Suite Secret utilised the kitchenette and bedroom of a small hotel apartment to explore the memories and shadows of the transient’s hotel room. From the teetering madness of midlife crisis to the fear and excitement of sleeping in a dark strange room, this piece used movement, sensory deprivation, confinement and poetry to submerge spectators in an alien and intriguing world. Nankivell was delightful to watch, her use of space, movement, light and sound was beautiful and subtle.

The final piece (Untitled) saw Lucas Marie and Nicole Ward would hash out their simultaneous urban anonymity and high density intimacy. In a departure from the stereotypically controlled movements of dance, the wild and alien gestures of misunderstood passion made for two sorry and mournful characters. Antony Hamilton’s piece was the sparsest of the evening and the exploration of voice space left much to be desired. Losing meaning lead to losing interest and the repetition grew old half way through the piece.

Mi Casa es Su Casa is a stunning example of site specific performance, each team draws out aspects of their space and inhabits them with characters that bring the Riverview Hotel to life. Thought provoking, interesting and challenging Mi Casa es Su Casa was certainly a Fringe World highlight.

Mi Casa es Su Casa has finished its run as Fringe finishes tonight.
For more information on the performance that was see the Fringe website here.

Shrouded in cool blue lighting, disheveled yet seemingly at peace, sits one of the main characters; when the lights come up, the warm yellow feels nostalgic and is a stark contrast to the desolate atmosphere of the would-be cafe, had the apocalypse not stunted business.

Impeccably timed and beautifully staged, Coincidences at the End of Time is a pleasure to behold. While on the surface a relatively simple concept, and one that I expected I would struggle to take seriously, the play is incredibly meaningful and poignant, as the two protagonists use the end of the world as an opportunity to figure out where it all went wrong in their relationship six years ago. Not exactly your generic meet-cute.

Particularly notable is the clever use of lighting to transition between past and present as the characters act out “landmarks” of their relationship, each resonant in their own right. The dialogue is well thought out and evocative, the scene changes flawless and the plot relentlessly captivating, making Coincidences at the End of Time the highlight of my 2015 Fringe experience.

Coincidences is also very relatable; the audiences sees in the characters elements of past relationships as the answer to the question “Do you remember when we first met? Can we go back to that?” unfolds before them. The plot of Coincidences also allows McArdle to explore the reality of two people who have been given the opportunity to re-live their relationship and see things (quite literally) in a new light. They’re not re-living to revive, they’re re-living to understand, demonstrating a level of self-awareness and sensitivity that’s hard to capture in performance.

Ending the Fringe season with a bang, Coincidences is a deeply touching, evocative and intimate show that exceeds expectations and captivates the audience to the bitter, apocalyptic end.

What is seen cannot be unseen. Yet when it comes to something as shocking, confronting, and sensationally smutty as The Freak and the Showgirl, that doesn’t happen to be a bad thing. Not a bad thing at all.

The show brings to Perth American Horror Story: Freak Show actor and self-styled “Seal Boy” Mat Fraser alongside the bodacious Miss Coney Island, a.k.a. Julie Atlas Muz. They are also man and wife. In their on-stage gambol, this joyfully depraved pair pushes the constructed boundaries of convention far beyond what you’d ever expect. And then some.

However far you plunge into the performance, however much you think your standards are smote, and that you’re well-nigh shattered on the deluge of their challenging outré— they bravely, faux-frivolously go that little bit further.

Bringing home what a powerful force the body is to delight, disrupt and scandalise, the show uses the camp spectacle of cabaret to lambaste the absurdity of so-called social ‘norms’. Insuperably, you’ll find many of your assumptions and ‘standards’ rapidly collapsing into a disorientating and titillating non-structure. It all makes for something cheeky, freaky, and fun. And also —you have been warned— very, very explicit.

If you want to experimentally tongue what to expect from the show, here’s a taste: minge-happy and minge-hippy super-cuts; a freaky BDSM severed-hand routine ten times more sensuous and strange than Fifty Shades; a knowing tribute to the ‘freak shows’ of the ‘30’s; an Australian typecast that’d win awards for schlock value; and an ‘inspiration porn’ montage-backed aria that compounds the heartfelt with pain, chagrin and irony. That’s not to mention a clever ‘crip-strip’ routine, where Fraser’s prosthetic arms are figured as just another prop to shiver off to get to the underlying erotic.

Amidst the spray of doughnut crumbs of a sexy corrupt transvestite cop, and in-between the full brazen flesh of quivering buttocks in a g-string, well— the audience just could not get enough.

An orgiastic apogee of Fringe World socio-political debauchery, future crowds should prepare themselves to leave the Spiegeltent slack-jawed and with eyeballs leaping from their sockets, feeling all sensationally and ideologically queer.

Especially after that finale. Think Emu beer, volunteer nudity, and casual promiscuity. I’d give the assurance that you get the picture, but believe me, you don’t. Seen to be believed folks, seen to be believed.

The Freak and the Showgirl will run until this Sunday, 22 February. Find out more here.  

Tucked behind old factory warehouses and a stone’s throw away from Claisebrook station the Jaffa Room, a private cinema, offers a minor escape from the Perth summer heat.  From the outside, the venue is completely isolated from Fringe hysteria, fitting perfectly within sedated suburban streets, an ideal location for a grindhouse theatre.

Yet as I opened the door to anticipate the embodiment of the seedy underbelly of Perth, I was greeted by a party of burlesque dancers. I realized that fragments of Fringe World could appear in every nook and cranny, even in the most unexpected parts of Perth. Dollar Dazzler (the burlesque host) ushered me inside the small theatre to where I would sit for amongst an audience comprised of two people (I assumed the rest of them got lost). From its description I expected Teasing Talkies! to be a showcase of gritty bump ‘n’ grind and Bettie Page style pornography, yet as I saw the Warner Bros. logo projected over a red velvet curtain accompanied with a vinyl recording of a brass band, I assumed I was in the wrong theatre.

Gypsy (1962 dir. LeRoy), a flamboyant musical, was not what I anticipated. For two and a half hours I slouched in my seat dazed by the over-saturated colouring and gratuitous singing and dancing. The film depicts the story of an overprotective and ambitious mother, Rose Hovick, who is determined to thrust her unwilling children onto the stage to become acclaimed Broadway stars.

Admittedly, (as cheesy as the film was) it was refreshing to watch an independent mother caring for her daughters (even if it was smothering) and rejecting the pursuits of any man that attempted to control her. This in particular, seems revolutionary for 1960s Hollywood; taking the perspective of a woman, portraying her as completely manic yet self-driven throughout the duration of the film. Nothing tied Rose down.

Burlesque was finally mentioned. However, it was not the gritty and kitschy striptease I was eager for. It was portrayed as something as far more refreshing. The art form was shunned by conservative onlookers, yet became increasingly appealing to Rose’s androgynous and ‘talentless’ daughter, Louise. As Louise explored burlesque, it was treated with respect; presented as just as legitimate as any performance art requiring vast skill from the performer, rather than involving witticisms of slander and vulgarity towards the burlesque dancers. It is what I would imagine what a Hollywood films today would produce involving nightclub strippers, only today, the account would take a more conservative approach and far less singing and dancing.

Teasing Talkies! runs for one more session on Saturday the 21st of February. You can find tickets via the Fringe World guide here.

I’m pretty well versed in the art of online dating. In fact, having downloaded and consequently deleted Tinder an awe-inspiring four times, I’d even go as far as to say I’m an expert. As a result of said online dating experience, I walked into It’s Complicated. feeling a little bit self-assured, the way a dedicated student might walk into an exam. As it turns out, I actually had quite a bit to learn about the intricacies of modern love and lust that are so often experienced through an impermeable screen.

Hamartia Theatre’s debut show, It’s Complicated., is, rather ironically, a simple story of two housemates at opposite ends of the dating spectrum, with one character in a serious relationship and the other playing the field (i.e. sleeping with anything with a pulse). By juxtaposing the two approaches to dating embodied by the protagonists, It’s Complicated. is humorously self-aware, honest and isn’t afraid to declare what we all know about Tinder but are perhaps too pious to say out loud (because let’s be honest, it is basically “McDonald’s for sex”, as the narrator of It’s Complicated. unabashedly proclaims).

Tackling club hook-ups, Skype romances and the humble blind date, It’s Complicated. explores the avenues of romance available to us in the 21st century, making for incredibly relatable and familiar viewing. Moving seamlessly from one location to the next and using a total of four stools, a couch and a table, the show is nothing fancy, but it’s a performance that’s very grounded in reality.

The value of a show like this is often overlooked in favour of more nuanced shows that push the boundaries of theatre and make conjectural observations about life and love and sacrifice. Sometimes, it’s just nice to see a grassroots performance that calls it as we all see it. In this sense, It’s Complicated. definitely delivers.

It’s Complicated. runs until the Sunday the 22nd of February. You can find tickets via the Fringe World guide here.

Credit to the Fringe creators: calling a TAFE lecture theatre a “stadium” does make the approaching semester more bearable, possibly even awesome; gives it some kick-ass KA-POW. However, I doubt my future experiences in lecture theatres will be as hilarious as the spectacle I witnessed tonight.

When I saw Luke Ryan’s comedy posted in the Fringe Guide over a month ago, I was curious to see how someone would tackle the topic of cancer in a comedy. In 2012 there were three people in my life simultaneously battling cancer, and while they’ve won their fight, I can’t imagine any of them using their unfortunate genetic whoopsie as the basis of a joke, let alone a whole show.

That’s what Luke Ryan does.

He begins with his nurse mother and doctor father diagnosing him with laziness, before it was discovered he had a substantial growth behind he left knee. Initially Luke thought battling cancer was going to be a piece of cake; an eleven year old spending a whole year at home playing Nintendo 64. It was going to be awesome. But unfortunately, he was wrong, and informed us of gruelling side effects of chemo and radiotherapy in the 90s.

Fast forward eleven years later, and Luke faces the same obstacle, with the tumour now in his lung. Instead of using the Nintendo 64 as his solace, he uses the outgoing life of a 22 year old to get through. After an awkward sperm sample and the possibility of an amputated arm, Luke beats cancer a second time and celebrates with a one night stand, which leads to a very problematic toilet incident. Take the worst toilet story you’ve ever heard and times it by ten. That’s how bad Luke’s toilet incident was. What a way to celebrate being cancer free.

While the topic might seem morbid, I can assure you, Ryan does a complete 180 with it. Still not convinced? He plays a video of a four year old being chased by cute puppies, how much happier could it get?

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Chemo is running until Saturday 21st February. Check it out in the Fringe Guide here.

Will Pickvance is The Resident Musician, a man who can take one upright piano and make it sound like an entire orchestra.

The resident musician in question is the in-house pianist at Inver, a Scottish castle that that acts as an exclusive hideaway for the worlds most rich and famous. Will Pickvance takes us through highlights of the Inver songbook and has conversations with several of the guests, who are shown as Hunter S. Thompson-esque cartoons on a projector screen. At at intervals he texts a past Inver guest George who has promised Will he will fly him to America and get him an opportunity to play with Harry Connick Jr.

Will Pickvance’s piano playing is an incredible thing to witness. He plays complicated, fast jazz pieces completely from memory and most of the time not even looking at the piano, and the music he creates is as expansive and atmospheric as an entire orchestra. It’s a shame the Speigeltent stage is higher than the audience as it would have been fascinating to be able to watch his hands while he was playing.

The songs parody concepts of wealth; there was one where Will divided the cartoon crowd into those with old money and those with new money. There was also mournful ballad from the point of view of richest man in the world who isn’t understood by those around him. However, there was the feeling that his very British take on wealth and class did not quite click with the Perth Fringe audience. This seemed to be mostly because the humour felt a bit vague; we were not entirely sure what to laugh at. He also addressed the crowd almost the entire time as if we were guests at Inver, and at some points it almost felt like he wanted audience interaction, but then he kept going with the song. The most compelling part of the idea was himself as the ambitious pianist, wanting to escape his lowly job and live-out his dreams playing alongside music greats, but with no means to get away, he’s forced to keep on smiling and playing at Inver.

Despite taking a little while to get into the world that Will Pickvance has dreamed up, Resident Musician is quirky and fun. And, although Will plays the piano for almost an hour without a break, I could have watched him play for far longer.

Resident Musician runs every night at 6:15pm until Sunday 22 February. Tickets can be bought here.

The world of illusion is presented by Simon Coronel in the opening night of his show Glitches in Reality.

Glitches in Reality blends illusion, theatre, comedy and music into an hour-long show, which sets out to challenge the audience’s perception of reality.As someone who loves illusion, this was one show I was particularly looking forward to, but unfortunately it didn’t live up to my probably very high expectations.

Simon’s passion for magic is clear from the start as he tells the crowd of his curiosity turned almost-obsession as a child and young adult which led him to becoming an illusionist himself. You can feel his excitement as he talks about this history of illusion and how mesmerised he was as a child.

It’s definitely worth checking out, especially if you are interested in seeing a bit of behind the scenes magic, although the illusion in parts wasn’t as impressive as I had expected.

Set in all black with a minimalist feel, the stage is what I would expect of an illusion show: it’s simple and allows the audience to remain focused on each trick.

The show was off to a good start with Simon’s blend of humour and illusion keeping the crowd entertained.

I was impressed when Simon showed the audience how he uses distraction, timing and the placing of his hands to essentially trick the audience into seeing something that isn’t happening.

These illusions and the explanation of how the mind is being tricked was intriguing for the most part, but didn’t keep me engaged for the entire show.

I felt the show became predictable, at times too educational and for me his humour began wearing off towards the end.

Some audience members, much to their delight, were brought up on stage to join in which added another dimension to the show.

For anyone in awe of illusion it’s a show worth seeing, and Simon’s passion for what he does is certainly evident, but for me a lacking stage presence and at times not so impressive tricks made it a bit of a struggle towards the end.

Simon is showing off his magic tricks until Sunday February 22^nd, for more details click here.

Whenever you go to a party, unless it is preceded by the word ‘tea’, it’s expected there will be a certain level of pizazz and entertainment. And often commitment to the cause of getting drunk. When you’ve received an invitation from Dionysus, none other than the god of wine, sex and revelry himself, the stakes are higher – you know things will be kicked up a notch.

The banter between Dionysus and his father Zeus, his dry humoured slave Xanthius, and the sporadic musical numbers, turned out to be the highlights of the show. However, one is left with a somewhat underwhelming performance, heightened by disappointment that the writers of the piece didn’t do their homework properly.

By and large it is not required to have a solid knowledge of Greek mythology in order for the show to proceed with success, though it aids in some of the more obscure jokes. Unfortunately, it might even be said that the less you know, the easier it is to sit back and enjoy yourself.

Creative liberties such as Hades and Heracles being performed by female burlesque dancers (traditionally masculine deity and demi-god, respectively), was an entertaining and anachronistic choice. A slightly disturbing one at that, with the added padding in their pants contrasting their curvaceous femininity–something that Hermaphroditus would be proud of.

Zeus scolding Dionysus, that his “grandfather would be disappointed” drew some laughs, as the irony was that Chronos would probably have revelled in the chaos, and even his complaint that Dionysus’ ‘mother’ was “trying to sleep upstairs” was chuckle-worthy.

It was with Artemis’ presence at the party that the biggest potential joke was missed; this gave the first inkling to the disappointment described here. The fact that Artemis, an eternal virgin, with no interests outside hunting, attended the party of Dionysus, the god of sex, with the likes of Aphrodite, was swept under the rug. There was no suggestion of sexual awakening or playing with the original narrative, and her appearance onstage in a caged pleather one-piece was a disappointment and left little to the imagination. The first thing that was noticeable in almost every performance was an abundance of bare flesh, which resulted in a lack of titillation and anticipation burlesque is famously known for.

Perhaps with more research and many more rehearsals it could have been the beginning to a witty, sensual and seductive performance. Using Greek mythology as a framework for a burlesque show is clever, considering the infidelity and misdemeanours which can be found in abundance, particularly with mischief makers such as Dionysus and Aphrodite in attendance. However, with only shallow roots in the original text, what was left was underwhelming: fun but not fabulous. A plateau from beginning to end, initial high expectations dropped to leave audiences with a painful tumble from Olympus’s heights.

Empire of Desire runs until Sunday the 22nd of February, and you can find tickets via the Fringe World guide here.

Fringe World, Sugar Blue Burleque