THE WATER ENGINE
By David Mamet

Curious

Three tall windows loom behind, three classic old-style radio microphones in front and in between two benches also mic’d and decked out with all the trappings for sound effects – bells, typewriters, sheets of paper, cabbages et al, plus shoes on the floor and an upright piano stage left. 

The Water Engine – an early conceptual work written for radio by David Mamet – is one of four diverse productions presented by the graduating Unitec Performing Arts students; many of whom will hopefully over the next year become the fresh new faces on the theatre and screen scene.  Director Jeff Szusterman has developed the performance of his technically adroit cast in its original raw state; that is, as a radio drama, ‘broadcast’ live before a theatre audience. 

Members of the cast arrive in quick succession, assembling as for another day at the office in the seemingly relaxed and friendly world of sonic theatre in 30s Chicago, getting right to it with a hearty patriotic sing-song.  The play itself begins in earnest, setting the scene for one Mr Charles Lang (Steven Chudley) to approach shifty lawyer Morton Gross (Daniel Cresswell), wanting to arrange to secure a patent for his groundbreaking invention, a car that runs purely on water.

When Morton brings in another sleazy lawyer guy Doberman (Alex Walker) to use litigious bullyboy tactics to extract ownership from Lang, he doesn’t play ball so they target the only thing he cares about more than his prized creation, his wistful sister Rita (Kimberley Harris). 

Key meetings take place in public arenas with the background sounds of political soapbox agitators in Lincoln Park, Chicago’s 1934 centennial celebrations, World’s Fair science presentations et al frequently juxtaposing the protagonist’s ordeal as well as adding colour to the overall experience. 

The recurring interwoven recitals of the customary good luck/bad luck warnings of classic chain letters puts another conceptual layer into the narrative, the battle of hard science and official law versus paranoid mystical wish-fulfillment.  Although the premise is less obscure and the narrative more realistic, the period costumes and attitudes and perfunctory soundstage setting lend themselves greatly to the Kafka-esque qualities of Mamet’s script. 

The distilling effect of watching a cast and crew of radio performers essentially fake a story with multiple locations spanning an entire city is quite extraordinary.  As the character players lean into their mics to deliver lines, a sophisticated arrangement of smacking and tapping and shaking and twisting all manner of paraphernalia plays behind. I swear I can see the newspaper office, the run-down apartment, the park, the World’s Fair, etc.  Testament to the power of audioscape, to stir listeners’ imaginations even when hampered by the visible reality of the radio company at work. 

Not to detract from her sterling achievement in authentic cuts and colour-co- ordination, Suzanne Sturrock’s costume design has the benefit of the sharp style of the time, particularly for the men (the women’s are kind of plain checked work skirts). Also notably contributing to the transportation-through-time-and-space effect is the sweet lilting swing of Joanne Walker’s live (like everything else) clarinet. 

As for the message of Mamet’s story (already a period piece when written and as presented here an charmingly effective trip back in time), it’s unfortunately proven to be timeless – so far, at least – given we’ve yet to see a truly significant positive shift in the alternative fuels industrial sector, reluctantly produced electric car engines notwithstanding… 

ARTAUD AT RODEZ
By Charles Marowitz

Cruel

Director Kacie Stetson’s eccentric production of American playwright Charles Marowitz’s account of the ten year confinement of French avant-garde theatre pioneer Antonin Artaud in the controversial psychiatric hospital in Rodez, to some degree offers an empirical experience of his notorious brand of ‘Theatre of Cruelty’.

Set in an old gym space (including one fully mirrored wall) that was itself once part of a mental hospital, Rachael Walker’s simple set is placed in the round. It comprises a mid-sized padded circle in the centre, AV screens on the walls depicting scenes from some sort of classic horror thriller plus disturbing slow-motion mid-shot portraits of the protagonists, and the occasional chair. 

The lynchpin of this effectively disturbing, somewhat abstracted historically based work is the intensely visceral portrayal of Artaud by Luke Bower.  His volatile concoction of arrogance, terror, anger and desperation holds him in a state of perpetual tension in which it’s hard to identify where the application of philosophical ideals ends and the true madness starts.  This mercurial uncertainty is supported by the singular (presumably intentional?) lack of a promotional mugshot of Bower alongside his twenty graduate colleagues at the front of the programme. 

Caleb Wright’s officiously long-suffering turn as Artaud’s doctor, Dr. Gaston Ferdiere, narrates the piece in a defensive tone, in response to the great deal of censure for his contentious methods of treatment, notably the electric convulsion therapy which allegedly succeeded (eventually) in restoring Artaud’s personality to one fit for society. 

The remaining six members of the supporting cast depict an eclectic array of people with whom Artaud had associations, both in reality, such as fellow thespians Roger Blin (Tarquin Kennedy) and Louis Jouvet (Amanda Walden), and during his deranged fits of reverie, e.g. Imogen Coles’ Van Gogh offering advice that only the art world’s greatest madman can give, and Suzy Smith as ‘the Muse’, a forthright, raunchy mistress, equally demanding and obedient. 

As mentioned earlier, the production and in particular the performances emulate to a large degree the very principles of ‘cruel theatre’ that Artaud devised and produced, involving quantities of raw naked violence and despair that raise more mysteries than solutions.  While it is fairly harrowing enduring the full 80 minutes from our less than entirely comfortable seats, it doesn’t totally stretch beyond suggestive allusion to anything at all threatening or disturbing at a truly deep level. 

As a double feature with The Water Engine, Artaud at Rodez makes an oddly appropriate companion given their distinct differences and similarities. Similar in that both break the fourth wall, at different levels (Artaud literally tearing through his!), and both deal with conflicts between legal authorities and angry, disillusioned citizens.  Different in that they are set in different countries; one concerns science, the other art and religion; one’s an entertaining drama and the other an upsetting comedy. 

The potential trouble with drama school productions is that the casting is limited to available students, causing possible difficulties matching the players to the roles.  In light of this, the casting for both Artaud at Rodez and The Water Engine is remarkably well appointed, indicating an exemplary level of versatility among them. 

What’s more, the converse upside – at this, the graduation end of the students’ three-year journey – is the intense familiarity they’ve developed in that time, deepening the natural relatedness between the characters.   

I look forward to seeing many of these keen and lively up-and-comers as they spread their wings and branch out into the vibrant theatre scene of Auckland and beyond in the months and years to come.   

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‘Graduation Plays: plays from around the world’ showcases the talents of this year’s graduating students from Unitec’s School of Performing and Screen Arts in two double-features performed on alternating nights.

Radiance
Louis Nowra | Directed by Anna Marbrook 

Australian play Radiance is about the relationships between three sisters after their mother’s death brings them together. The play deals with the tough subject-matter of death, abandonment and abuse and doesn’t let up until the all-too-obvious denouement.

Though the characters and their arcs are a little cookie-cutter (uptight successful sister loosens up, grumpy martyr sister gets a sense of humour, carefree slutty sister becomes more responsible) the three actresses all push them to their limits. 

Sarah Taylor does a sterling job as emotionally-awkward oldest sister Cressy, and on the strength of her subtext alone a clue-revealing mention of a photograph should have been dropped.

Pheobe Borwick brings some Chloe Sevigny cool to her role as put-upon Mae, and pulls off Mae’s restrained, tender and mad moments well. (She also plays a magnificent turtle.)

Courtney Abbot is beautifully cast as free-spirited youngest sister Nona, and carries the comedic role with ease. Her routine as Madame Butterfly is a particular highlight.

Director Anna Marbrook incorporates touches of physical theatre that heightens the drama and brings a sense of mystery to the production that complements the many secrets that unfurl throughout the play.

Rachael Walker’s stunning set is used to its full potential as Marbrook transforms it from a house to a beach to a car and back again. 

Beginning the play looking like Charlies Angels, by the time the lights g0 down each actress has undergone a total transformation. The three difficult roles in Radiance are played ably and bravely by the talented cast.

For the Love of Losi 
Danny Aumua | Directed by Shimpal Lelisi 

With Oscar Kightley on board as mentor, ‘For the Love of Losi’ promises a lot of laughs, and it delivers. The play centres around Losi, an unemployed player with a painful past and a love of the ladies. Throughout the play Losi messes around with four different women in his quest to find ‘the one’ in the belief that this will bring meaning to his empty life.

Though the format (monologue, dialogue, interior monologue) is a little stilted at times, and there is one too many cycles through Losi’s revolving door of women, Aumua’s play has the potential to become a significant work.

With some slicing and dicing, For the Love of Losi would be an absolutely fantastic play to tour around high schools. This is because the play ends in an altogether unexpected way, in a twist with a message that doesn’t feel preachy but warns against living life like it’s a pick-a-path adventure. 

Taofia Pelesasa, with his air of a young Will Smith, capably carries the play. Though the women have smaller roles they each have a chance to shine. The brightest stars are Hanelle Harris as Helen ‘the model girlfriend’, and Maile Finau as Elena ‘the one who got away’. Finau is deft, confident, sweet and saucy in her role, with both humour and tenderness expertly timed. Harris breaks hearts as broken-hearten Helen, particularly in the beauty pageant scene with the trembling delivery of her speech. Harris also has a naturalness that makes watching her conversations with Losi seem like voyeurism.

For the Love of Losi is an engaging, funny and surprising play ably brought to life by the young cast. 

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