Silo Theatre celebrates the 10th anniversary of Bare, Toa Fraser’s mosaic of contemporary life in Newmarket, Auckland and by extension of contemporary New Zealand, with a new production that sizzles with invention and makes one temporarily forget that we have seen too many monologue plays recently.

Instead of the bare stage of the original production we have a grungy flat in which the characters, played with warmth and subtlety, if not a defining sharpness between their characters, by Morgana O’Reilly and Curtis Vowell, remain isolated and yet connected when the monologues and the occasional duologues intertwine.

The script has been updated but the pinpoint accuracy of the characterization in the script and performances is still the key as we laugh at the comedy of the sentimental motor mouth Tina and are touched by the ruminations of the Fijian grandfather seeking salvation at the end of his life.

Oliver Driver and his actors celebrate Bare’s 10th birthday with a party for all to enjoy even if the famous sex scene between Venus the Gym Babe and the shy movie buff Dave is now played more realistically (fully clothed I hasten to add) instead of metres apart as in the first production.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

Silo Theatre celebrates the 10th anniversary of Bare, Toa Fraser’s mosaic of contemporary life in Newmarket, Auckland and by extension of contemporary New Zealand, with a new production that sizzles with invention and makes one temporarily forget that we have seen too many monologue plays recently.

Instead of the bare stage of the original production we have a grungy flat in which the characters, played with warmth and subtlety, if not a defining sharpness between their characters, by Morgana O’Reilly and Curtis Vowell, remain isolated and yet connected when the monologues and the occasional duologues intertwine.

The script has been updated but the pinpoint accuracy of the characterization in the script and performances is still the key as we laugh at the comedy of the sentimental motor mouth Tina and are touched by the ruminations of the Fijian grandfather seeking salvation at the end of his life.

Oliver Driver and his actors celebrate Bare’s 10th birthday with a party for all to enjoy even if the famous sex scene between Venus the Gym Babe and the shy movie buff Dave is now played more realistically (fully clothed I hasten to add) instead of metres apart as in the first production.
_______________________________
For more production details, click on the title above. Go to Home page to see other Reviews, recent Comments and Forum postings (under Chat Back), and News. 

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

Purists be warned: Bare is bare no more.

The classic piece of Kiwi ‘poor theatre’ – that from 1998 wowed audiences here and around the world by showing (yet again) how two actors/no props could conjure multiple characters’ stories so powerfully you could virtually smell the burger bars, kitchens and backyards of South Auckland – has got dressed.

The worn-out couch, fridge, table, chairs and sundry groceries of your average scungy flat serve as facets of every-space, allowing scenes to morph into each other as the actors move around acknowledging each other rarely and only subtly – as spectators, sometimes – if at all.

Oliver’s Driver’s direction works hard to ‘re-deconstruct’ and so set free what could have been unhelpfully anchored by the material set. His inventive, anti-intuitive blocking stresses the non-connection that is surely a central theme in Fraser’s play and enhances the rare, climatic scenes of communion. That is, when certain characters do finally engage in dialogue while being palpably in the same room, the set miraculously falls away and suddenly, we have a frisson of what we want in the theatre: drama.

Bare remains a vehicle that both requires and enables its performers to shine. Morgana O’Reilly and Curtis Vowell are no exceptions here. They both give riveting voice to their edgy ‘new Kiwi’ characters.

O’Reilly is endlessly watchable, every nanosecond projecting some hilariously recognisable quirk with complete assurance – in fact, I reckon I could watch her bumptious PI homie-girl, sozzled pakeha housewife, blithe post-colonial academic and smug fast-food manageress all night.

Apart from being lumbered with a hackneyed American radio jock character at the kick-off (I mean, how many times since American Graffiti have we heard this guy? Like, enough already) Vowell pulls out all the stops with his guys. His vehement movie-buff tagger is a crack-up and his disturbed dead-beat neighbour with a nervous tic a real worry.

Both actors revel in presenting the aggressive insouciance of disaffected youth that is one of our grosser domestic products, but it’s down to Vowell to portray, by telling contrast, the gravitas of the worried Fijian grandfather whose world view seems to come, not just from a couple of generations away, but aeons. He nails it. Lighting is used to devastating effect for this totemic character – an inspired gender switch from the Fijian grandmother who went on to have her day in ‘No.2’.

A real delight also, is that the text is lavishly updated with topical trivia from our ever more trashy twenty-first century lives: Bebo, Black Sheep etc. Ha ha.

Once again the combination of great performances and dazzling writing makes for a thoroughly entertaining, gentle satire of ‘our people today’ that clearly stands the test of time. Go.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer