Written by the Greek poet Aeschylus, it imagines the reactions of the Persian leaders to their army’s destruction at the hands of the Greeks. One of the few Greek tragedies to actually be set in their current day rather than mythic times, it’s essentially Ancient Greek contemporary political fiction.

It’s a strange play and I couldn’t quite work out what Aeschlyus’ intention was with the piece. Did he want the Greek audience to sympathise with their enemies grief or was he trying to rub the Persians’ face in their loss?

The Happy Dagger Theatre production of Persians playing at Fringe World clearly follows the interpretation that the audience should sympathise with the plight of the Persian empire.

The most impressive aspect of Persians is it’s staging. Entering the performance space, the audience could see the chorus members finishing setting up thousands on plastic green army men on the floor. The toys represent the Persian army and they’re an effective way of conveying the huge loss the Persian Empire suffered.

The toy soldiers are pushed around the stage, creating the illusion of bloodied earth or a map of the Greek lands where Xerxes army met his downfall.

The issue with Persians (and this is an issue with the original text) is that it’s so histrionic. The whole play pretty much consists of a chorus crying over their war dead until Xerxes returns from war for a rather anticlimactic monologue.

The classical structure for tragedy is to show the fall of a great man because of their hubris in defying the will of the Gods. The problem with Persians is that we’re simply told over and over of Xerxes fall and not shown it happening. The play feels unfinished at the end.

Persians alienates the audience and that’s clearly intentional. Moments like the Chorus Leader’s quasi rap whilst resurrecting the dead King Dareius are probably meant to estrange the audience and make them see the universality of the play’s themes but for me, it just came off as bizarre.

Maitland Schnaars makes for a powerful presence as Dareius and his performance stands out as one of the play’s highlights. The chorus does some very good work physically, though the constant exaggerated wailing made me feel like I was being shouted at.

Persians has a lot working for it like inventive staging, strong music and an interesting historical context. Though I suspect the play’s reliance on alienating theatrical effects makes it very much an acquired taste.

The Fringe World production from local theater company North Sea Boat Terminals is a spirited and ambitious take on one of Shakespeare’s problem plays.

The small cast of young Perth actors have a big task at hand, all playing multiple characters and they rise to the occasion.

Caris Eves is particularly good as Helena, imbuing the character with strength even as she single-mindedly pursues a romantic partner who’s clearly a jackass. Nick Pages-Oliver does good work as the aforementioned jackass Bertram, though he over-eggs it on his dual role of The Widow making the comic character tiresome rather than amusing.

Brendan Polain is the Minstrel narrator as well as playing various side characters. He also impresses both with his musical abilities and his ability to differentiate the various characters he plays.

There’s a lot of imagination shown in the production’s design. The abundance of children’s toys throughout the set and childlike costumes smartly underscores the lead characters’ immaturity.

The King and Countess of Rousillon are both portrayed by animated projections with their lines prerecorded. It’s an inventive method of presenting the play’s authority figures and the cast plays off the animated characters well. The occasional pre-recorded soliloquy does drag though. It’s a pity that a live actor doesn’t play the Countess, one of Shakespeare’s best female roles.

The choice to symbolise the virginal Diana and her mother The Widow as plastic teapots is odd, though Eves somehow makes a swaying teapot strangely seductive.

The music and sound design is strong. One issue was that the musical accompaniment sometimes drowned out the dialogue. The sound design was problematic for Helena’s soliloquy right before the act-break where the loud gunfire and over-the-top antics of the other actors takes away from an important character moment.

The abridged text used does a fine job maintaining narrative coherence throughout the play and the actors seem very comfortable speaking Shakespearean verse.

The final scene, with it’s subdued look at married life implies where the production stands on the play’s Bertram problem which has perplexed Shakespeare scholars for decades.

All’s Well That Ends Well is an exciting and inventive take on Shakespeare’s classic. The ambition shown by the cast and crew suggests that there will be interesting work to come from the young company and director Sarah McKellar.

Eric doesn’t look like your average comedian, nor is his show an average comedy show, but there’s a very good reason for that.

Eric – first name only – has spent his life onboard Royal Navy nuclear submarines and although he says he hates the way Hollywood portrays submarines, the stories he tells in Eric’s Tales of Sea seem like they have made their way off the page of movie script.

The show sits somewhere between a lecture and a comedy show, something Eric freely admits himself as some of the jokes first need an explanation to the audience who won’t necessary understand the inner workings of the Navy. The set ups end up paying off, as Eric talks you through a number of dramatic near-death experiences and cringe-worthy initiation pranks. A slideshow of pictures accompanies the stories and helps to tell Eric’s story. The photo of Eric when he joined the Navy as a baby-faced 16 year old is quite powerful when watching what experiences and troubles turned that young boy into the man he is today. The stories, which all seem to end in everyone punching everyone, are not side-splitting hilarious, but they are told in a riveting manner that will ensure you are drawn into Eric’s storytelling.

It is his friendship with fellow submariner Dick that steals the show. The admiration that Eric holds for Dick is incredibly apparent and he speaks from the heart about their time together. The closing story is the highlight of the night and even if Eric does try and force emotion on the audience at times, what happens to Dick during a routine training exercise will leave you absolutely stunned.

Despite a riveting final story, it felt like the show ended abruptly. Given that there was particular emphasis on Eric’s beginning in the navy it would have been nice to come full circle and find out how the rest of his career panned out. What does come full circle is his friendship with Dick, which again reinforces that this show, although disguised as being about submarines, is really about the incredible bond of friendship.

Short sleeves, cheeky grin and very good hands are how Simon Coronel rolls in his one-man illusionist show, Manipulations.

There is no doubt that Coronel is world-class; he has won the Australian Society of Magician’s Annual Competition four years in a row and is only the fourth Australian in history to place at the World Championships of Magic and Illusion. With his generosity as a performer and exceptionally smooth routines, it’s easy to see why.

He begins the 60-minute showcase with one of several addresses to the audience, explaining the difference between those who simply want to be amazed and those who want to figure out how the tricks work. After all, what Coronel does is only a trick and he openly admits this. Part of the performance is built on taking the audience through the basic principles of manipulation, dexterity and illusion.

All the tricks performed are incredible to watch even if one theatrically driven piece seems a little odd amongst the fun. Coronel uses everything from a plastic water bottle to gambling chips, string and a five (or should that be a fifty?) dollar note. The tricks look effortless and are done with remarkable precision and skill.

His relationship with the audience is built on respecting their involvement instead of trying to embarrass them which is nice to see. He even uses the entire audience for one manipulation trick.

Clean, mind-boggling fun suitable for the whole family.

Simon Cornonel – Manipulations

Feb 13-18, 7pm

The Perth Town Hall

Tickets $25

Despite first being performed almost a decade ago, the topics explored in Stephen House’s Walk in Dirt still feel current and perhaps even more relevant today.

The show follows an unnamed man as he walks through his rubbish-filled street and into the dark urban underworld, meeting a series of bizarre and fractured characters. It is through the characters that we also meet the central character, a 50-something man struggling to hold onto a solid sense of identity. Sexuality and family is discussed, as well as the suffering and frustration of the sick and lonely.

Stephen House, who recently received acclaim for Appalling Behaviour, is a solid performer who easily transitions through the multiple characters. Two of his more memorable characters include a transgender showgirl whose musical number is loaded with dramatic undertones, and a drunken derelict with a telltale song of her own. Some characters such as a frustrated single dad and a judging housewife don’t quite hit the mark. What all these characters have in common is a loneliness coupled with a strong opinion of others, a self-created illusion that is not usually nice or correct.

The show is performed in a heightened poetic language, which at times is too focused on making sure it rhymes and while it suits some parts, it also disengages the audience in others. There is an interesting pull between difference and similarity with George Kallika’s sound and music playing a central role in creating separate moods for each character while Rick McGill’s purple costumes tie them all together.

Walk in Dirt won’t suit everyone’s taste, as it seems so focused on painting a picture of despair and darkness that the attempts to find redemption and hope aren’t enough.

Walk in Dirt

PICA Performance Space

Feb 14-16, Feb 18-19, 9:30pm

Tickets $30

Siren of the Squeezebox Cathie Travers virtuosically weaves through Campari Kid !an L!lburne’s poetic examinations of the human condition. She sighs and sings with her accordion while he sings poetry with his Spanish guitar. Further textures are added by Pete Grandison on mandolin, guitar and assorted frets, Gandharua (Phil Bailey) on bass and Peter Smith on drums.

Noticing no support act, I had wondered how they would fill the three hours. There was a long break part way through the night, which also finished early. This was not detrimental to the atmosphere as the second half of the night felt as relaxed as an intimate gig, despite the large venue and crowd of over 100.

The venue choice nods at L!lburne’s past – he met composer Travers while director of Artrage. The Bakery is hidden amongst shipping containers and eclectically furnished “like something out of Star Wars,” according to Gandharua. This was the first time I had seen candlelit tables and seats on the dancefloor.

They talked and joked with the audience, singing original songs, some from L!lburne’s debut album Ghosts and EP Against the Odds, recorded with Grandison at Shanghai Twang Studio. L!lburne’s lyrics are evocative and relatable, sometimes heartbreaking or darkly witty. His musical influences are vast, from Cohen to Eno, his style morphing with the stories set in fantastic or mundane worlds of iphones and snoring.

Each song was different, from Labyrinth’s dark undertones, to guitar driven The Dancer’s cute backing vocals. Emotions evoked by the images and music often contrasted in a delightful way. The Night was “a song about romance in general” while upbeat Halo Around the Moon described, with tongue in cheek, a “perfect” relationship reflected by television. In Lolita, L!lburne’s adorable homage to Nabokov’s novel, the story’s namesake does not die in childbirth but grows up to become a world-wise soul singer.

L!lburne made a few “strategic departures” for Travers to feature. She played with a sophisticated freedom, expertly and expressively pushing and pulling tempo and dynamics. Her amazing solo piece Playback, created for ballet MANIA, uses a pedal to create swirling layers of polyphony that Travers trills, bounces and walks through. Renaissance featured an expressive solo from Grandison and her “Mafia song” was complimented by Gandharua’s Godfather impression (which earned a few “bravos” from the crowd).

The final piece was an aggressive blues rock song in which L!lburne’s bravely proclaimed “I’m a lonely old man, nobody wants me, nobody needs me.”

Campari Kid and the Siren of the Squeezebox were thoughtful as well as musical. The communication between the musicians was endearing and genuine. The collaboration embraced the talents of two writer composers who are unafraid of experimentation and honest expression.

With such delicacies as beard fondling and strip poker on offer, those used to playing it cool hiding in a crowd and avoiding participation may be challenged.

The 12 works about reaction and interaction, reflection and introspection are split into three programs. I saw program C and B on separate Sunday afternoons.

My first taste of Proximity was sickly sweet. Sweet-Life, by curator of the mini-festival James Berlyn, is playful and dark.

Playing for lollies representing virtues and vices, the participant interrogates the notion of “the Sweet-Life” through carnival games and mind-games.

This work was enjoyable but intimidating, particularly when the sharp and cheeky artist monitored my pulse and pupils as I read mantras.

In the men’s bathroom, I found a Glory Hole just the right size for Jackson Eaton’s magnificent beard.

If you want to see or touch this symbol of masculinity, you will have to play along and veer on the perverse.

The local master of awkward challenges traditional notions of intimacy and identity as he asks “how long has it been since you had beard? Is it the best you’ve ever had?”

Sarah Nelson took me for a ride through the busy cultural centre for some Mobile Moments and quite genuine conversation, despite some scripted questions and the intimidation of a camera.

Then Renae Coles of The Union took me through a complaint form for “small injustices” with an essential listening section.

While seeing professional Coles break out into angry song was a thrilling, it would be interesting to see the mentioned punk band present.

Program B began with Flush, a game of strip poker in the Blue Room bar. The lovely Janet Carter gets you comfortable enough to play to or push your limits and makes the game non-threatening.

Ush and Them is a hilarious little endgame with Nikki Jones an adorable “career usher”.

You end up exploring much of the Blue Room with Jones in the hunt for your “next venue,” learning a little about the theatre and ushering as a vocation.

There are many layers of comedy, from the concept right down to the awkward interaction, little comments and – toilet humour.

I was grinning silly the whole time, pretty much incapacitated from playing the part of the grumpy patron which likely would have lead to further hilarious frazzle from Jones.

I had a lie down while Russya Connor hung from the ceiling and crept around me, sharing a dark bedtime story for How Close Do You Want Me, and I lit Fragmentation 1.2 with a torch.

This mesmerizing and bizarre dance work began with the shocking discovery of Hellen Russo inside a chest with one lifeless arm outstretched.

Afterwards I joined Program A for a meal prepared during Slowfood Sunday, a session in the kitchen with co-curator Sarah Rowbottam.

She told me about some of the growers and producers of the ingredients, who she had tracked down and met with as part of the work.

The dinner was also a good way to talk to some of the artists and hear about the other patrons’ experiences in Program A – private tap dances, three minute showers and sweat tests.

One of my fellow patrons’ faces when they recognized a particular beard was priceless.

Proximity is a festival for the curious and brave who want to be more than a witness to a performance.

Communications with strangers, those we are close to and even ourselves cannot always be trusted. Deceits reveal themselves in ugly but entertaining ways in Ellandar Productions’ A Night of Deceit, directed by Ellen O’Connor and Iskandar Sharazuddin.

Five shorts set in the 1940s are introduced through cabaret and woven together by a beguiling omniscient emcee played by Bonnie Coyle. She sits in, judges, smirks and shares her own experiences with us. Her engagement with the audience and rendition of ‘is that all there is’ is exemplary in its depth and humor.

Our first short, William Albridge, pulls us into an interrogation chamber at Scotland Yard where two jive-talking conmen attempt to outsmart each other. Asides give glimpses into the motives of the two and this fast dialogue driven scene is very funny and clever, saving the reveal of a neat little deception on the audience until the end.

Our guide then takes us into the home of a mafia couple in New York for Thieves and Foxes. Pony ‘the brawn’ thinks he is deceiving Kat ‘the brains’, however she is not letting on all that she knows. While the accents could be a little abrasive, the drama is well executed and juxtaposes nicely with its predecessor.

Next up is an absurd comedy Gravy Train that could almost be set in present day Perth. When a businessman defends an oddball at the train station from a working class Australian, an energetic argument about class and motives breaks out. The businessman’s reception of the alien, played by Kym Bidstrup, when the worker is not there proves some criticism is warranted. Three skilled comedians invite us to examine the ways we deceive ourselves and strangers.

Conscience is the story of a London prostitute, the policeman who murders her and his scapegoat. Timothy How is notable as the policeman who swings from cocky interrogator to man obsessed, to a weak man fighting conscience while praying for forgiveness.

Our emcee gets us in the mood for the more upbeat vignette Erectile Dysfunction with some word repetition. As the sound of music from an adjacent space occasional filtered into the hall I wonder if the audience’s cries of “penis” were overheard. In this final short we enter the office of an eccentric sex therapist, characterized by Nick Pages-Oliver. A game of word association with a sexually frustrated housewife backfires and with the arrival of a surprise guest, the patient is forced to confront her taboos and become the therapist’s therapist. The euphemism-filled script and the melodramatic daytime-serial feel towards the end enable the play to tackle awkward topics in a very hilarious way.

Despite being tightly packed into the warm Treasury Mess Hall, the audience seemed impressed with the excellent cast and production.

Marcel Lucont approaches the microphone to his own French voice-over and poses weightily on one of his bare feet with a sardonic expression, a glass of red swirling in one hand. Debonair in a turtleneck and blue suit, he proclaims himself France’s premier misanthropist and lover. “It is an honour… for you to have me here.”

Initial crude spontaneous banter in a thick French accent reveals Lucont as a misogynist cynic, yet his handsome arrogance and nonchalance are swoon worthy. He targeted several audience members including a girl in the front row and a French expat, who he conversed with in French, confusing the majority with little knowledge of the language.

Lucont offers his advice through cheeky one-liners. Rather than a bundle of joy, he warns that children might be a “bundle of hate,” the very worst of each parent. Lucont includes several wry local observations on pedestrian crossings, bogans, Rockingham and staying chic in the hot weather.

Placed on a small table beside the raconteur is a red check tablecloth, corked bottle of wine, his memoir Moi and “self-award winning” publication What We French Think Of You British And Where You Are Going Wrong. Lucont frequents both bottle and book during the show. His list of “50 ways to leave your lover” ranges from “walk” to “fire yourself from a cannon into a pool of nude women.” Lucont gives the audience their pick of surprisingly sophisticated graphic poems about sex in restrooms, “brittie titties,” or erectile dysfunction. Coolly delivered excerpts from his memoir include such delightful similes as “suicidal snowflakes” and a joke about Amy Winehouse.

While his song 15-love was clever, it seemed to drag out and was far less effective than his poetry and the punchline to the artist companion’s presence was not quite worth the suspense.

It is British comedian Alexis Dubus’ clever anti-jokes, turns of phrase and witty observations as Marcel, rather than his caricature of a Gainsburgian Frenchman, that truly impresses.

Encore runs until the 6th at the Metcalfe Playhouse and Marcel Lucont’s Cabaret Fantastique runs until the 4th at the Spiegeltent at midnight. With such a witty compere and such outlandish talent as Perth’s own Tomas Ford, I’d recommend only the brave take front row seats for this showcase of some of the best acts at Fringe World.

The heartless, the heartbroken and the heart-breakers came together for a journey into the pain, beauty and essence of love in Fringe World’s Odette Mercy’s Heartbreak Dance.

Over the course of the evening, the audience were guided through a diverse range of performances from musicians, poets, storytellers and rappers, all in the name of love.

Held in The Old Treasury in the heart of the CBD, Heartbreak Dance started with Australia’s first lady of funk, the ineffable Odette Mercy, who burst onto the stage with the vibrant yet casual demeanour we have come to expect from one of Perth’s most experienced front-women.

Complemented perfectly by the tight musicianship of her band, The Soul Atomics, Mercy’s massive voice began the night with a sentimental and soulful numberHeartbreak, urging the loved and loveless in the crowd to take things slowly.

This wasn’t representative of the evening itself, as her introduction was swiftly followed by local guitarist and songwriter Owen Hopwood, touching on that suspended feeling of being kept waiting by the object of your affection.

Local comedian Tien Tran then hit the mic to take us on a personal journey through the misfortunes of his love life, a wonderful and often humorous parable, to conclude that sometimes love needs a leap of faith.

The massive voice of Clare Nina Norelli then provided a hugely moving rendition of En Vogue’s 1996 hit Don’t Let Go.

Somewhere in between, Odette advised the crowd that heartbreak causes a physical reaction best cured by manual labour or heavy lifting. So she invited the audience to their feet for 10 seconds of wild dancing to release any pent-up tension in the heart strings.

The evening took an interesting turn with one of the heartbroken ladies of the audience invited to the stage to be “crooned” to by three local rap vocalists: DVS, Rae and Kid Deus. Each one did his best to impress the forlorn lover with promises of diamonds, wine, walks on the beach and KFC. In the end, the MC, Rae, with the big heart and voice of gold won the prize to escort the slightly embarrassed woman back to her seat. Perhaps hip hop has a way to go before it is the language of love.

The audience was then blessed by local poet and hip hop artist Mathas, whose extraordinarily moving and concise depiction of the flood of emotions that naturally come during a messy break up left the crowd in a silence of self reflection. This was complimented by another local, story teller Lawrence Ashford, whose story of a partner who he neglected to such an extent that the fire of her life was doused, left the room in a cold silence. With perfect comedic timing, he revealed that his accomplice over the years had been a struggling auto-mobile, which broke the tense atmosphere with a euphony of laughter.

The evening came to an apt close with Chris Collan, another fantastic voice from our fair city, and Odette sharing the stage for a final cry of the heart.

Each act played an integral part in the Heartbreak dance and with the help of The Soul Atomic’s steady grooves, painted a textured portrait of love in all its manifestations. Everyone left the room feeling a little more ready for the battleground of love.