Monday, May 31, 2010

The week that was #16

A netbook, a computer near-illiterate and Ubuntu

I think I mentioned in one of the blog posts that I was looking at buying a netbook; well, I’ve done just that. To be precise it’s an Asus EeePC model 1001P, and it’s black (ish), tiny and was scarily inexpensive (all of $379) considering what it can do.

Having bought the device, though, was only half of the plan. The other half involved something called Ubuntu.

What the bloody hell is Ubuntu?

Well, the wikipedia entry can tell you more than I can be bothered paraphrasing, but – in short – it’s an alternative operating system to Windows that you can use to run your PC.1

1I have no idea whether, if you’re a Mac user, you can use it on your Mac; I don’t know many Mac users and none of the few has ever expressed a distaste for their OS the same way many PC users express their distaste for Windows – and Microsoft in general.

What’s the difference?

To be perfectly honest I have almost no idea, other than that Ubuntu is a Linux-based system, and Linux works differently – I guess the best way to explain how it differs from Windows is to use an example: if Windows runs on petrol then Ubuntu runs on LPG – but keep in mind that’s only a very simplistic comparison because there are other significant differences between petrol and LPG that aren’t relevant to comparing Windows and Ubuntu – and vice versa.

But it's about as effective an analogy as I could come up with. If you don't like it, feel free to provide a better one.

Why would I want that?

Partly because it’s something I’ve read some articles/blog comments etc. about and wanted to learn more; partly because my interest in computer ‘stuff’ has increased over the years, mostly because of what I do at work; and partly because Ubuntu is what they call open-source software and – this is where it gets interesting – it’s all completely free to obtain and use.

The free part is kind of redundant because the netbook came with Windows XP already on it. But it didn’t come with very much else, and I wanted a word processor and a spreadsheet program (i.e. something like Excel) and, being a cheap bastard, I didn’t want to pay however much Microsoft Office is charging these days.

Ubuntu comes with a ‘bundle’ of programs – video player, music player, social media integrator, Firefox, pretty much everything you need as well as the Open Office suite of programs – basically the open-source equivalent of MS Office. I’ve not really spent that much time on either the word processor or the spreadsheet programs, but from what I can tell they’ll be able to do exactly what I, a low-end user, need them to do – i.e. very basic writing and keeping track of my itinerary and spending habits.

So I pretty much thought ‘what the heck?’ and decided to give it a try. Since the netbook was new and had nothing whatsoever saved on it it wasn’t as if I was going to be risking losing anything important if I screwed it up completely. Sure I’d be out $379 if the whole thing went completely tits-up, but from what I read that seemed reasonably unlikely – especially considering I’d be taking the ‘dual-boot’ option – something I’ll explain in the next section.

At the very worst I’d still have a netbook that I could carry around and write reviews on, as well as take with me on holidays to use for writing and sponging free wireless internet with. Yes, I’d be a failure as a wannabe computer nerd - but surely there are worse things to be...

The joy of installation

This is where it starts to get interesting, because the standard Ubuntu package comes on cd – and netbooks don’t have a built-in cd drive; if you want one you have to buy one separately (which I didn’t do). But you can do it with a USB after you download the package either via Torrent or from the Ubuntu site (I did the former). Getting it to work, though, is a bit more fun since you’ve got to interrupt the boot-up process so you can tell it to read the USB rather than the hard drive.

That took a few goes, mostly because none of the instructions I could find could specify exactly which button (out of several options) so I was hammering away on all of them until I got to where I needed to be.

Installing is pretty straightforward: you work your way through selecting options like language and location and so forth – but then came the important part, which was choosing whether to erase the existing OS (Windows XP in my case) and using only Ubuntu, or going for the dual-boot option.

Dual-boot is like it sounds – you have both OSs on your hard drive and when you switch your computer on you just choose which one you want to work with. Yeah, it’s like wanting to have one’s cake and eat it to, but since I wasn’t that sure I wouldn’t do something that’d completely screw up the Ubuntu install I wanted to have a backup option so that the netbook I’d just bought wouldn’t end up a largish Asus-branded paperweight.

However, for whatever reason, I got the installation part and it wasn’t giving me the options I was expecting to see – it was telling me that I could only either go all-Ubuntu, or choose to manually partition my drive.

Where the bloody hell was the side-by-side dual-boot option everyone described?

After much Googling, no small amount of swearing, and trying – without really having any idea what I was doing – to manually partition the drive to set it to what was being described by other users, I decided I would just bite the damn bullet and go for the Ubuntu-only option and wipe Win7 completely. However, this time when I got to the partition option, it was presenting me with the previously-absent option of side-by-side installation.

Apparently, my ham-handed attempt at manually partitioning had changed the drive into whatever it was the installer wanted to see. It kind of begs the question of how I’d managed to get it out of that state in the first place, since I had – as far as knew – done almost nothing to the machine other than register my copy of Windows and take a picture with the built-in camera.

But at that point I really didn’t care; it was working.

Getting used to it

Ubuntu uses a graphic interface not unlike Windows and Macs – things have different names and are in different places, but it works much along the same lines. Working out which things do what, and where they are stored is proving interesting, but that was always going to be the case so I haven’t felt frustrated in the few hours I’ve spent playing around with it.

Installing things and fixing bugs

The timing of my purchasing the netbook and entering the world of Ubuntu coincided with the release of its newest incarnation – version 10.04, or Lucid Lynx.2 This is both a good and a bad thing; good because it’s new and exciting and (allegedly) an improvement on the previous release and bad because – like everything else these days – it’s released to the world whether it’s ready or not, and any bugs get fixed afterwards.

Having a netbook is more complicated, because there are all sorts of hardware issues to deal with – for starters, 10.04 didn’t include the drivers for the wireless card in my netbook; I had to install a program that’d allow me to use a Windows driver. Then there was the screen brightness issue, which also needed some playing around with code to fix.

But that’s what open-source is all about. They don’t do everything for you; either someone works out how to do it and publishes the instructions for you to follow, or – if you’re clever and knowledgeable enough – you can do it yourself.

I am, of course, in no way suggesting I am clever or knowledgeable enough. But I’m hoping that I can become at least slightly more clever and/or knowledgeable enough than I am now. And it’s easy to access the code to tinker with things, since there’s a terminal that gets you straight into where you can modify it.

Yes, it’s a bit daunting – but, like I said, the joy of doing all of this on a cheap netbook is that I don’t mind losing anything I’ve saved on it (I’ll back up everything significant on USB before I do anything even vaguely experimental) and even if I cook the damn thing somehow, I’ll only be out a few hundred dollars rather.

Still, I don’t really intend for that to happen. Stay tuned for updates!

2All Ubuntu releases have alliterative names and they’ve been going in alphabetical order; the previous one was Karmic Koala and, before that, Jaunty Jackalope. No, I’m not kidding.

Survivor: Heroes vs Villains

Spoilers ahoy.

At the end of the last Survivor series I started writing a blog entry but I wasn’t happy with it so I never took it any further – but now, since I’m looking to make my weekly entries cover more than one topic, I’ll give it another shot.

If you haven’t been watching it, Survivor: Heroes vs. Villains took twenty players from the previous seasons, divided them into two groups (the eponymous Heroes and Villains, based on how they’d been perceived4 as playing the game) and pitted them against each other, much like the two tribe format that’s been the standard. Both teams had people who’d won it previously, as well as those who’d come runner-up – plus a few of the other notorious characters from the past seasons.

However, most of the attention went on the guy who’d been the centre of attention in the last season, Russell Hantz. He’d dominated the game through force of personality, the sneakiest of tactics (he sabotaged his own team), flat-out bullying and no small amount of luck. Of course, the relative cluelessness – and, in some cases, sheer obliviousness – of some of his team members didn’t hurt either.

But he’d gotten to the end and, to the surprise of many, didn’t win. This reflected a very important aspect of the game that people – particularly those who were fans of Russell’s and who had expected him to win easily – had forgotten: the jury are deciding whether or not to give you a million dollars. Yes, to be where you are you have to have betrayed some (if not all) of them, broken your word, gone behind people’s backs and generally done whatever it was you needed to do to get yourself to the end; that is, after all, what the game is about.

But you’ve got to do it in such a way that the jury-members still respect how you went about – and Russell learned the hard way that being lied to is one thing, but being bullied and abused and treated with contempt is another.

A lot of the appeal – for me at least - of Heroes vs. Villians was about whether or not Russell would go down the same path again. But I’d hoped that, unlike the not-especially-bright people in his own series, the experienced players would either beat him at his own game or simply get sick of his toxic personality and just ditch him when the first opportunity. But – sadly – neither the other villains or the merged tribe (Yin-Yang) gave me the pleasure of seeing his flame extinguished; he got to the end and faced the final jury vote to determine the winner.

But, prior to that, we were treated to some of the best Survivor action we’d seen over the past nineteen seasons4. In a way I wish the weekly episodes were two hours long with more time devoted to the challenges, the tribal councils (which, according to reports, often go for hours rather than the 5-10mins we see) and the scheming amongst the players.

What I think surprised me, though, was what was the amazing stupidity of some of the players who’d demonstrated far more insight in their previous seasons. JT – who won his series5 – and Tyson in particular made some colossally stupid moves. Prior to the merge people made post-merge plans that ended up causing them problems – I can’t imagine that if Stephenie or Tom had been there they would have let JT give the idol to Russell, which was the move that effectively ruined the game for the Heroes team.

At one point I commented to a work colleague – one of the few other people I know who actually watch the show – that Russell’s real talent was to somehow emit a beam that made anyone in his immediate vicinity do astonishingly stupid things. Yes, some of the time – like with Tyson – he did some clever manipulating, but other times he didn’t even have to say a word for the other person to act like they’d taken a blow to the head.

But no matter how he managed to do it, he didn’t get eliminated. In the context of the heroes versus the villains, evil effectively won over good as the final three were all villains – Parvati, Russell and the eventual winner, Sandra. I was not that surprised, but my vote would have gone to Parvati since I felt she played a game that incorporated more of the different aspects; she did do well in challenges while Sandra didn’t. But the jury evidently felt that Parvati had ridden, if not strictly on Russell’s coattails, at least in his wake, and their resentment toward him led them to favour Sandra, who did a very good job of distancing herself from him.

At the ‘reunion’, Russell expressed his annoyance at how the winner is deciding, arguing that it should be an audience vote rather than a jury vote. Which is a reasonable point in a sense – except that everyone on the show would therefore be playing to win the audience vote, and the result would be very different and still not necessarily end in Russell winning.

Russell’s antics made him look like a bad loser – again – and pretty much guaranteed he’ll be remembered as the most hated contestant – at least by other contestants who’ve played with him – of all time.

I don’t think they should change the game, and I seriously doubt they’d even contemplate it – in the past they’ve tried an audience vote for an audience-voted million-dollar prize (separate from the main prize) before, but they realised that it would change the way the game is played and never awarded it again. However, there is a $100 000 audience-voted prize which, hilariously enough, Russell won both times he played.

The jury aspect is as much a part of the game as anything else, and if you’re going to be a overtly bullying asshole you’re never going to win. Sure, you’re almost certainly going to have to be sneaky, underhanded and cunning – but when you do, do it in such a way that it only makes them resent you rather than loathe you. And make sure that the people you’re at the end with have done as much – or, better yet, worse – than you have to get there.

I did spend some time wondering why no-one other than Sandra was agitating to get Russell out, but then I realised that they knew what we didn’t necessarily realise (thanks to editing): that those who had already gone hated Russell with an incendiary passion and were never, ever going to vote for him – which meant that going into the final three with him next to you meant it was more like a final two.

Russell was always going to be the person with the worst track record – and, more importantly, no idea that having done what he did would mean people would vote against him or – even more importantly again – that perhaps it’d be a good idea to try and present a context in which his actions could be seen to have been necessary. Which is not exactly impossible; players have done that before and done so in a way that meant they won over at least some of the jury.

Essentially, what really cost Russell the million dollars (twice) is that he was unable to even pretend to respect how the other people played the game. He just went in there and said ‘you guys were idiots; I’m better than you and you should vote for me.’ It’s not that much of a leap to say, ‘yeah, I outwitted you, but I still have respect for how you played the game’ – but he refused to do that. Or admit that luck played a part – which it always does. It was lucky for him JT found an idol not someone else. It was lucky for him Danielle found an idol and not Amanda; both were game-changing events that had nothing to do with him or his actions.

Considering there’s never been anyone who’s possessed the talents of manipulation, good fortune and cunning while also being utterly clueless about the impact of bullying and the expression naked contempt for their fellow competitors, I don’t expect we’ll see any future players attempting to replicate Russell’s ‘style’ – but you never know; he’s obviously someone the producers saw as a way to ensure an audience, and I have to admit one of the reasons I watched was to see how he’d do.

I guess we’ll see in the next season.

3I used the term perceived for a reason; in reality, determining which actions are heroic and which are villainous seemed very sketchy indeed. But it sounded cool, and made for some interesting watching if for no other reason than to see whether someone considered a villain would act more like one because of how they’d been labelled.
4I’ve watched most, but not all, of them.
5Which makes his series (Tocantins) more interesting in retrospect, since his epic dumbassery suggests that he wasn’t the one making the clever moves, it was his ally Stephen – who he beat at final tribal council for the million dollars – which is something didn’t really come through in how that series was edited.

Monday, May 24, 2010

The week that was #15

Love in the Time of Cholera

I actually finished this the previous week but ran out of time to write about it – so now’s going to do.

Love in the Time of Cholera, if you aren’t aware, is a novel by Nobel laureate Gabriel García Márquez1. While it’s generally considered to be a lesser work than One Hundred Years of Solitude, I actually like it more.

I’m not really sure why; I believe it may be because it’s more straightforward in terms of narrative2 – it’s set in what is probably Colombia and is about (mostly) two people, a boy (Florentino Ariza) and a girl (Fermina Daza) who fall in love as teenagers but, after several years of secret romance and her being exiled by her father who does not approve, she realises she doesn’t want to marry him and cuts off all communication.

He pines; she, not long after, meets and eventually marries Dr Juvenal Urbino, an eligible young man from an ‘old money’ family. Fifty years later Dr Urbino dies from a fall (chasing an unusually verbose parrot) and, the following afternoon, Florentino Ariza arrives and announces that he is still in love with Fermina Daza.

This is only the beginning; the rest of the story is about what takes place in both their lives in the intervening period – and then (briefly) what happens afterwards.

It’s not as sweet and wholesome as that description might make it sound3; after being spurned, Florentino Ariza goes on what can only be described as a lifelong nailing frenzy of epic proportions, amassing so many notches on his belt he filled several notebooks with reminiscences of his debauchery – with more than a few of them being less than appropriate, to put it mildly.

Fermina Daza, on the other hand, lives a more upright life, but she eventually realises that she does not truly love – in the romantic, idyllic sense – her husband nor he her. But they stay together anyway out of a sense of duty.

But for me it’s really less about the story and more about how it’s told – wonderful, rich prose – and what it represents, i.e. the complexity of the characters reflects so many aspects of human behaviour, particularly the behaviour of those from a culture and an era that embraced emotion and passion rather than represses it or subverts it the way today’s society does.

Oh, and for the trivia buffs – Love in the Time of Cholera has been referenced in not one but two John Cusack films: High Fidelity and Serendipity. In the former he lists it, along with The Unbearable Lightness of Being as some of the books he’s read (‘...I think I understood them. They’re about girls, right? Just kidding’) and in the latter it is a copy of it that Kate Beckinsale’s character writes her contact details in – in order to see if the universe wants them to be together - and which, years later, he finds and decides to try and track her down.

1I hope you all appreciate the effort I go to with intonation marks.
2
One Hundred Years of Solitude is a lot heavier in its use of magical realism and a vast number of characters; I think I prefer the (relative) naturalism and simplicity of ‘Cholera’.
3García Márquez, in an interview, described that aspect of it as a ‘trap’, and stressed that the story is far more complex; however, this is still how most people think of the book.


42nd Street

I’d never seen 42nd Street before; I was under the impression that it was a) an old-timey musical and b) one that got put on a lot because its popularity, but it turns out I was wrong on both counts – it appeared on Broadway in 1980 and no-one that I’m aware of has been in production of it.

While it’s very much a fluff piece – good-hearted girl from the sticks overcomes adversity to make it good in musical theatre– it’s enjoyable, fun stuff with some great song-and-dance numbers.

It’s something important to remember about theatre – different shows exist for different purposes. This is very important to me as a reviewer, because I can’t go to something bleak (say, The Crucible) and complain that they didn’t at any point make me laugh. Likewise, I can’t go to a ‘whoops where’s my trousers?’ style British farce and moan about how there was no social commentary or that I didn’t learn anything from it – well, other than to not cheat on my wife with a mistress who will, after I upset her greatly by ending our illicit affair, turn out to also be the girlfriend of my wife’s humourless boss – the boss who’s coming to dinner at our house the very same evening and who my highly-strung wife insists will give her the big promotion if everything goes well.

Say, there might be something in that...

A Theatrical Leave of Absence

Tempest starts next week (details here – yes, it’s shameless plugging; live with it) and I’m taking two weeks off work while it’s on. It’s not something everyone does (if they have the option), but for me it’s been fairly standard practice since I started working full-time with paid leave.

There are number of reasons for this.

One reason is that on weeknights I generally go to bed early in order to get plenty of sleep since I find that work is onerous enough as it is, and it’s most certainly not made any less so by being tired.

Theatre, of course, is a nighttime activity; amateur shows, at least in Adelaide, almost always start at 8pm4. A typical show will last between two and three hours, meaning that the earliest we’re evening contemplating getting out of the theatre is after 10pm – and often much later – which is a problem for me because on every weeknight I can manage it I’m in bed before 11.

But that’s only the half of it; the other is how hard I find it to ‘come down’ after a show. I have enough trouble getting to sleep as it is; the way I tend to describe it is that I don’t ‘fall’ asleep as much as ‘am pushed by sheer force of will’. The key to a good theatrical performance is energy, so to do what’s needed on stage I have to get about as alert as I can get and it takes time for that to wear off. If you throw some kind of post-show celebration on top of that then it’s likely I wouldn’t be in bed before midnight and almost certainly wouldn’t be asleep for another hour after that – at best.

To spend close to two weeks getting less sleep than I’d prefer, and compounding that tiredness and the inevitable irritability that comes with it5 is not something I’d choose if I had the option. But I did have the option, and that brings me to reason number two: a surfeit of leave.

Because I don’t take actual holidays – the packing and travelling kind - very often and I’ve been a permanent employee (i.e. one who gets four weeks paid leave each year) for something like four years now, the leave I’ve earned6 has been building up – yes, I do the theatre leave pretty much every time I do a show, but I haven’t been doing that many shows – two a year at most – and I don’t always take the two weeks I’m taking this time around.

So, prior to taking these two weeks, I’d built up over eight weeks worth of leave – and this, apparently, is something management frowns upon. So, the orders came from up high to get my accumulation down below the eight-week maximum. It was never mentioned what the consequences of not taking leave would be, but I’m sure a vicious sack-beating could have been involved.

And now I’ve got myself two weeks’ worth of sleeping in and being baffled by the awfulness of daytime television. Oh, and writing blog stuff – I’ve got specific posts about Tempest and the new netbook and its conversion from Windows to Ubuntu to do – plus watching some of the backlog on my DVR’s hard drive (I’m going to have a marathon of the remaining Lost episodes once the finale has aired), rearranging things in my house, learning about the aforementioned Ubuntu, going to the gym as much as possible (potential ill health permitting – there’s a good chance I’ll get sick because of the show) and reading a few books.

Oh, and do two previews and eight proper performances of Tempest. Good times!

4This isn’t universal; some companies have 7.30 as their standard start time, and then there are things like matinees (early afternoon) and twilight performances (late afternoon/early evening).
5I’m sure I’ve mentioned in at least one previous post that being tired makes me grumpy – and that’s probably putting it politely.
6That might be using the term loosely. Perhaps I should have written ‘acquired’.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

The week that was #14

A daily dose of gross vegetable juice

Vegetables and I don't get along. We really don't. And I've given up buying them because, short of one or two ways - all including the addition of other substances that disguise their awful, awful vegetable taste - I can't eat them.

And I'm also a lazy, lazy person - so cutting/shelling/skinning or whatever the heck else you need to do to vegetables to prepare them is also an annoyance, particularly these days when I'm frequently pressed for time and have to get myself fed before heading out to rehearsal or to whatever other event I may be attending.

In the past I've tried to be good and buy vegetables, but the aforementioned barriers have meant that, despite having them lying around, I still haven't made myself eat them. Which means I'm not only not eating them but throwing them out - and I really hate wasting food - though not, apparently, as much as I hate eating vegetables. So I've turned to V8 Juice - the all-vegetable kind, not the mostly-fruit-with-a-bit-of-carrot-thrown-in-so-it-can-be-called-vegetable-juice kind - to ensure that I am getting at least something approaching the RDI of plant matter.

What I'm doing now is taking a 1L carton of V8 Juice to work each Monday and drinking it over the course of the week - this is also because it says on the box that it's supposed to be drunk within 5 days of opening, and that strikes me as reasonable given that vitamins and such do leech out of vegetables over time; juiced-up vegetables are probably no exception.

Yes, it's vile - truly vile; I wince with every mouthful and have to wash my mouth out with water afterwards and follow that with a strong mint. But it's still better (and faster) than eating the damn vegetables and - more importantly - it means I don't have the ghastly things getting in the way of me enjoying my evening meat1.

I've been doing this for nearly two weeks, and I'm reasonably content. I suspect that not getting enough of whatever vegetables are supposed to contain was leading to diminished energy; now that I've upped my intake I think I am less lethargic later in the day. I was going to say that it's also helped boost my colossally useless immune system but it felt the urge to let through something over the weekend and I had Monday off work with low energy and an unceasing headache.

But, as much as my taste buds resent me for it, I'm going to keep at it. I hate the constant minor illnesses - sniffles, coughs and so forth - I'm plagued with, and if doing this cuts that down by even a tiny fraction it's going to be worth it.

Now where did I put those mints?

1That's not a typo.

Influence

ATG review

I don’t have a lot to say that isn’t in the review – though it is a reminder of how much of a challenge casting a show can be, particularly when – as was the case with Influence - the script gives specific references to how old the character is.

Many of the roles I’ve played either haven’t been especially age-specific (A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Much Ado About Nothing, The Taming of the Shrew, Me & My Girl plus anything I’ve been chorus in) or have been described as close enough to the age I was at the time (Emma, The Matchmaker, Lords & Ladies), but in a few I’ve played characters I was probably too young for: Popcorn, The Crucible, and Arsenic & Old Lace.

Obviously it’s a concern for me with Tempest – otherwise I wouldn’t have gone the grow-and-dye-the-beard option mentioned in last week’s entry. But there’s not really a lot I can do about it so it’s going to be down to trusting the audience are capable of the requisite suspension of disbelief.

Iron Man 2

I went to see Iron Man 2 this week. I quite enjoyed the first one – as comic-book adaptations go it was very good – and I trusted the people involved (mostly director Jon Favreau) to not go down the Michael Bay path, i.e. where you just throw a whole bunch of money at the CGI and effects people but get your script written by people who (it seems) he found standing by the side of the road holding up signs reading ‘Will hack for food’.

I really should have found the time to rewatch the first one just so I could make a more informed comparison; perhaps I’ll get hold of it and watch it during my two week Tempest break.

While it wasn’t – as far as I can remember - as good as the first, it wasn’t that far off. They were very good at not making the oh-so-common sequel mistake of deciding to just up the humour level to the point where the sequel seems more like a parody of the original (Michael Bay again - [cough] Bad Boys 2 [cough]) and although they did throw more money at the CGI and effects people, they made sure they had a solid plot and good writing as a framework to build upon.

So there was some excellent, funny dialogue - helps distract from the brain-hurtingly-bad subversions of reality mostly to do with how quickly Stark and co. are able to build all the stuff they build, plus his creation of a 'new element' that's a stable metal – something that I possess enough science-fu to know isn’t actually possible.

Incidentally, the screenplay was written by Justin Theroux, who’s also an actor: he played Evil DJ in Zoolander and Sean O’Grady in Charlies Angels 2, amongst other things. Oh, and he also co-wrote Tropic Thunder – another script I though very highly of.

Robert Downey Jr was excellent, but it wasn’t until I saw an advertisement for the dvd release of Sherlock Holmes that it dawned on me exactly how different he made those two characters – and that only improved my opinion of him.

Scarlett Johansson is hot, especially in a black catsuit. Samuel L Jackson is awesome, even though he didn’t say ‘motherfucker’ (or one of its variants) even once. Lousy US PG-13 rating. Roger Sterling from Mad Men (John Slattery looking disturbingly like Walt Disney) is Tony Stark’s father.

It was full of references to other characters in the Marvel universe - Tony Stark has Captain America's unfinished shield (apparently it was in Iron Man, but I didn't notice it) and uses it to prop up a particle accelerator; in a post-credits sequence (technical name: the stinger) the agent goes to New Mexico and in a crater we see Mjolnir - Thor's hammer.

Thor is the next Marvel film we’ll see – it’s due next year and directed, hilariously enough, by Kenneth Branagh – but the one I’m now really looking forward to is The Avengers, which’ll be directed by (wait for it) Joss Whedon. It’s about damn time someone trusted him with a big project like this. Let’s just hope there isn’t any executive meddling to screw things up.

Saturday, May 8, 2010

The week that was #13

Yes, I'm resurrecting the weekly recap posts. I'm disgusted with my pathetic efforts over the last few months so I've resolved to be more prolific. For the moment it's just random stuff, but in the next few weeks I'll have Tempest to talk about as well as the likely purchase of a netbook and with it my entry into the world of open-source software operating systems.

Actually, I started writing about Tempest and then realise that's probably better put to use in a big post that covers the whole experience. So, you're going to have to wait to hear more about it - though you can, if you're in Adelaide, come see it. Details are here on the Mixed Salad website.

The puncture party

Sometime last week I noticed the rear tyre on my bike was low so - after a few days of just pumping it up each time I needed to go anywhere; it was obviously only a slow leak that wasn't going to cause me too many problems as long as I didn't have to travel very far, though, being the cautious sort, I tend to carry a pump1 with me just in case - I went through the rather irritating (mostly because of how dirty my hands get) process: taking the wheel off (extra effort required for the rear, since the derailleur mechanism is in the way), levering the tyre aside; stripping out the tube; finding the hole(s) by reinflating the tube, filling a bucket with water, immersing the tube in the water and looking for where the air bubbles are emerging; patching the hole(s) and putting it all back together again.

But it seems to have worked okay - though the real test will be how well it holds up after actually being ridden.

This all took place on Monday night. Tuesday morning it was raining; after a fruitless search in the usual places I remembered my umbrella was in the car so I went to get it - and, in doing so, noticed that the rear right corner of my car was not where it should be, i.e. at the same height above the ground as the rear left corner: my car tyre was flat.

What are the chances? I get maybe one bike tyre puncture a year, but it's been so long since I had a flat car tyre that I suspect I went through an entire car (the Celica) without having to change the wheel - making it maybe eight years since the last time.

I couldn't fix it then and there; I was on my way to catching the bus to work. It wasn't a pressing issue because I didn't have to drive it that evening after finishing work because I was staying in town to go to the movies (more on that later) - but I knew that Wednesday afternoon I'd be going straight out and couldn't leave it until then; I'd have to deal with it after I got home on Tuesday night.

So, once I got home and got changed I set to it. Although it'd been ages since I'd done it, the process is by no means rocket science, and because the car was in the garage2 I didn't have to worry as much about in terms of making sure the jack was properly supported and so forth.

I located all of the relevant bits and pieces - jack, jack handle, tyre iron3, spare tyre - without much difficulty; it did, however, look like none of it had been used before so I could assume that either the previous owner(s) had been lucky and never had a flat or, if they had, they called for help.

Despite the fact my type of car (a Mazda 323 Protégé, which is a small four door sedan) does not, as far as I'm aware, tend to be owned by construction workers, professional arm wrestlers or bodybuilders, the wheel nuts were on so damn tight I came very close to giving up and calling the RAA for assistance - as embarrassing as I knew that would be. I suspect it was only because I had some WD-40 handy that I was able to get the blasted things off without help. After that it was pretty easy.

At the time of writing it's been taken to a tyre place - but I haven't collected it yet so I've no idea what it's going to cost.

1Actually, pumps plural; one standard (for the front) and one French (for the rear) - because for some unknown reason my bike has mismatched valve types, and since this determines the rims (because the valve stems are different diameters), changing would mean buying a whole new wheel, which strikes me as a waste of money.
2Or car-hole, if you aren't a la-di-da Mr French man.
3I'm pretty sure that's not the correct Australian term but a) I don't know what else to call it, and b) it sounds cool.


Growing the beard and dyeing for my art

I've grown a goatee for Tempest, mostly because the character I play has two children, presumably in their teens - and, despite my actually being old enough to have two teenage children (at least by the ages at which people tended to become parents in Shakespeare's time), I don't necessarily look that old - and, more importantly, I don't look that much older than the actor playing my on-stage son.

Hilariously, the term 'grow the beard' is actually an expression used in pop-culture analysis - see the TVTropes page - to describe when something improves in quality; if you can't be bothered following the link (remember, TVTropes can be hazardous to your health) the expression comes from Star Trek: The Next Generation where one of the characters (Commander Riker, played by Jonathan Frakes) starts sporting facial hair at around the same time the show supposedly4 got better.

Dyeing for your art is also a trope, but the meaning is much more obvious, and in this instance it is the aforementioned facial hair that’s been coloured for theatrical purposes.

I have to do this because my facial hair – at least some of it – is so pale in colour that it’s almost translucent5. Which isn’t, in and of itself, a problem; it’s just that when I need people to actually see it that it becomes an issue.

Last time I had to grow the beard and colour it (for my role as Karl Brezner in Popcorn) I went down the slightly less permanent path of brushing through some kind of makeup (mascara?) to darken it. But I had to wash that out every night, which was kind of annoying – plus there’s a scene in Tempest that calls for my character to be splashed with water, which might have cause problems for water-soluble makeup.

So, I’ve gone the dye option. Tracking down a product was not as difficult as I’d first imagined; there are actually several brands, most of them aimed at covering grey. So, I hit the pharmacy and grabbed a box of Light Brown.

Facial-hair-dyeing scientists have obviously been working very hard because the process is very simple: combine gunk from two tubes, smoosh them together and brush through the thing you want coloured and after an appropriate time, wash it out.

It seems to have worked okay: the hair is noticeably darker, but not so much that it looks like it isn’t natural. I’ll have to do a slightly more thorough job prior to the show opening, but that’s okay; it’s another three weeks until we open, and by then I’ll be in need of a trim anyway so I’ll clean it up and colour it again so it’s at its best for the run.

4No, I’m not just saying that because I don’t want you to know that I secretly watch Star Trek TNG in secret – I admit to much worse – it’s that I honestly haven’t ever watched it.
5It’s also oddly coarse, particularly the moustache part. I suspect I could make a living trimming it and selling it to people to make nail brushes.


Beneath Hill 60

This week’s cinematic experience was Beneath Hill 60, a film about a contingent of Australian sappers on the front lines in Europe during WWI.

What’s a sapper? Good question. According to Wikipedia they’re the military’s mining and excavation engineers and they’ve been doing their darndest to help their sides win wars for over two and a half thousand years, mostly by using their digging skills to bring down an enemy’s fortifications.

And it wasn’t all that much different in WWI. Since the two sides were situated at ‘the front’, with forces gathered either side of a ‘no man’s land’, battles usually consisted of one side deciding to charge at the other in the hope of pushing the other side back. If a side could find a way to make that push more successful then it’d increase the chances of success and – though it didn’t always seem like a priority – save a lot of people’s lives.

Well, people on the side charging at least.

Anyway, what the Australian sappers were doing was, in unison with other sapper units all along the front, digging underneath the enemy lines and planting explosive charges so that, when they were aware that the enemy troops had gathered in sufficient numbers, they’d detonate the explosives and kill a vast number of them.

The film is centered around this, all from the perspective of one Australian, Captain Oliver Woodward (played by Brendan Cowell) and includes some of his back story, including his relationship with a family who’d lost a member to the war.

It’s a bit slow to start off with, but once the unit travel to the eponymous Hill 60 (which was in Belgium) the tension starts to build and it develops into a really engrossing film. The dialogue is a bit grating at times – it just sounds unnatural, at least to me – and some of the more dramatic moments struck me as having been thrown in to add ‘human interest’.

But I enjoyed it6, and it was a great history lesson. Plus they also didn’t gloss over the impact or try to glorify war; there were scenes of mutilated and shell-shocked soldiers at the front, as well as a characters obviously suffering PTSD in a scene set after the war was over.

On a vaguely related note, it was directed by Jeremy Sims – which, since I saw a production of The Wild Duck directed by him a few years back, means it’s the first movie I’ve seen directed by someone who has also directed a play I’ve seen.

6It did, however, have Gyton Grantley in it; not that I mind him that much, but I really dislike the combination of weird given name and alliteration. It just irks me.

The dreaded head shot

One of the aspects of theatre I dread the most became necessary this week: having my photo taken for the program/foyer. The reason it is so loathéd7 is because, thanks to my poor (or, as I like to put it, non-existent) bone structure, my face does not take well to having one of its dimensions removed and the resulting image is almost always one that I dislike immensely.

Put it this way: I don't really like the shape of my face at the best of times, but I can live with it; when it's in a photo, though, it looks fat and flat and weird and huge8 and I hate not only having to see it myself whenever I enter a foyer/read a program/look at a webpage, but that other people see it as well.

Really, if I could enforce it I'd never let anyone take a photo of me, ever. But that's not really an option since there are always theatre programs and ID badges and driver's licenses and so forth; my freakish two-dimensional melon will always be there to be seen .

Anyway, these particular head shots were being taken by a professional, so at least I had that in my favour. Still, professionals at least realise exactly how much of a challenge they face when they struggle against the combination of physiology and the laws of physics and try to find ways around it - however, unlike amateurs, they aren't just going to shrug and say 'fuck it' and just go with what they've already got after spending twenty minutes adjusting the lights while I try to find the one good (as opposed to the nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine bad) facial expression that keeps me from looking like either an overly-cheerful serial killer or the poorly-reanimated corpse of someone very surly.

Making it worse was the fact that the other cast members started showing up. This served to make me even more nervous about the process since my inability to produce something worth shooting would now be inconveniencing others as well.

Given the choice I'd rather have been in a dentist's chair.

But he managed to get a couple that he liked - or, at least, was content with. I didn't ask to see them because I probably would have hated them; he'd have noticed and then made me sit back down again to keep trying to get one I was okay with, and everyone would have been sitting around for even longer wondering why the bloody hell it was taking so long.

Part of me is optimistic, though. It's not impossible for there to be photos of me I don't immediately want to set fire to - it's just not very likely. Still, there's really not a lot I can do about it.

7That's right, loathéd. I'm kicking it old school.
8Okay, fatter, flatter, weirder and huger.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Fringesanity!

I didn’t write much during February/March – on the blog at least; reviews, on the other hand I wrote plenty of – mostly because I was crazy-busy seeing all sort of shows in what is Adelaide’s mad month (or so) of festivals.

Oddly enough, despite seeing 34 shows (and a rock festival), I didn’t see as much as I originally intended. Why? Because my brain (apparently) liked what I was exposing it to so much that it didn’t want to stop thinking about it - even when I was trying to make it shut the hell up so I could get some sleep. This meant that I spent a lot of the time feeling fairly wretched, and I ended up cutting back on shows (a little) in order to rest.

Anyway, here’s a rundown of what I saw. Anything I’ve reviewed will have a short blurb plus a link to the ATG site where the review is published; anything else will have a longer description.

Day 1
Friday February 19


Scaramouche JonesATG review.

What a way to start the Fringe.

In a small space at Higher Ground I sat and watched one of the most amazing pieces of theatre I’ve ever experienced. Since it was presented by Guy Masterson – a man who’d been performing in and bringing shows to the Fringe for the last few – under the banner of The Centre for International Theatre, I was expecting a high standard - but it surpassed my expectations. Absolutely brilliant. I only gave it 4.5 stars; it really deserved 5, but I was a bit hesitant about giving full marks (so to speak) to the first show I reviewed so I didn’t.

Bully

Another show from Guy Masterson’s Centre for International Theatre.

In an even smaller space at Higher Ground, Bully is about growing up in a broken home and dealing with being gay in a decidedly hostile environment. It was only a few minutes in when I realised it was in verse, which gave it a very interesting feel; with his accent it made me think of mid-2000s British lad-rapper Mike Skinner and his project The Streets.

A great show; moving and thought-provoking – and I’m now Twitter-friends with the writer/performer.

Day 2
Saturday February 20


Little Grey WolfATG review.

I had such high hopes for this show. As soon as the spooky girl puppet (I was still thinking about days later) appeared I thought I was in for a treat, but it wasn’t to be the case. The best thing was the puppetry, but it was sadly underused. I guess maybe it was a company who’d previously done puppet shows but were attempting to branch out into something different.

There’s potential there, though. They just have to find their feet.

Back of BurkeATG review.

The review pretty much covers it. One woman, a few characters – including a few sheep, which really was the high point. And no, that’s not sarcasm.

My Name is Rachel CorrieATG review.

This was one I was very much looking forward to seeing. I think I first heard about it reading something about Alan Rickman; he, along with Katherine Vine had put the show – about the life of a young American student who was killed in Palestine while protesting the destruction of homes and infrastructure by the Israelis – together from Corrie’s diaries, emails and phone conversations.

The review covers pretty much everything; there were some problems with lighting and the idea of projecting words/phrases onto the cardboard box set was a good one, but it didn’t work very well.

I also should have given it 4.5 stars rather than 4. But I’d already given Scaramouche Jones 4.5, and it was – in my opinion at least – a better show so I couldn’t. Fingers crossed no-one shows my review to Alan Rickman; he might go all Professor Snape on me...

Day 3
Sunday February 21


Austen’s Women

One performer, fourteen characters. Rebecca Vaughan does an amazing job of portraying some of Austen’s most beloved – or most disliked – female characters. I’ve been an Austen fan since appearing in a production of Emma (I played Frank Churchill, hilariously enough; I tried for Reverend Elton but didn’t get it) but haven’t read anywhere near as much as I should have.

I did think it went on a bit, though – maybe one or two fewer would have pleased me more.

The Event

This was something different. The performer was an American with a voice like an 60s television advertisement; the play itself a very clever desconstruction of the process and psychology of performance.

Day 4
Monday February 22


LivefishATG review.

Again, the review pretty much covers it. I’m not a big fan of dance/movement but this mixed in good, funny dialogue so it was okay.

Day 5
Tuesday February 23


Nikki Aiken Presents

I saw Nikki Aiken’s show in the Cabaret Fringe last year; it was brilliant so I knew I’d be seeing this if I could – it also helped that the very talented Matthew Carey was involved. But it was a great show with lots of fun songs and Nikki – a wonderful local talent – showing off her considerable singing and comedic skills.

For some reason it started half an hour late, which was a bit of a problem ‘cause I had a show to review afterwards, but I got there in time.

In Search of AtlantisATG review.

There was some confusion regarding how to actually get into the venue – called The Bunka, it’s out the back of the Austral where the beer garden used to be – but I got there eventually.

As the review states, they were very much in the vein of musical comedy groups – Tripod, Tenacious D, Flight of the Conchords – and they were very good musically and very funny. Using a mandolin will always score points with me.

Day 6
Wednesday February 24


Hilariously, my editor wrote me an email concerned about my mental state; there were, apparently, two typos in the last review I’d sent in. I reassured him that while I was indeed tired (the lack of sleep had started to have some effect by this point) but it was more because of haste than fatigue – I’d been in a rush to eat and get back into town in time for the show.

Jane Was Sixteen Yesterday!ATG review.

I wanted to like this more than I did. It was an interesting concept with good potential; if the writer/director (who I’m acquainted with since he’s involved in Adelaide theatre) gives it a do-over I think it could be much better.

Inanimate Eats RageATG review.

Hoo boy. Was not really expecting this. Very, very strange – but (as the review mentions) there was a weird kind of cathartic effect to watching a guy in a chicken-wire cage smash things up while a huge angry bald man yelled at him.

Again, an interesting concept but one that needed to be developed a lot further.

Day 7
Thursday February 25


The lack of sleep had really gotten to me by this point. When I get tired I get more than a a little weird (okay, weirder than usual) – by which I mean the filter I apply to my actions gets loose and I say and do things that I normally know I shouldn’t. So, I was saying strange rambling things and snapping at people for pointing out I was saying strange rambling things.

Not good.

My Sweet SpecterATG review.

I think my tiredness made me lower my standards just slightly on this one; it was really more of a 3-star show than a 3.5. But it was a bunch of young people trying something out, and that’s a good thing in and of itself.

Seeing the Star Theatre – where I’ll be performing in Tempest later in the year – was good; yes, I’d seen stuff there before (and got a walk-through during the audition), but it’s handy to get another look and think a bit more about the space and what we might end up doing with it.

Day 8
Friday February 26


In a fit of reconciliation (that I can only imagine was also the result of sleep deprivation – you know, ‘cause I’m really a hard bastard who’d never worry about such things) I decided I’d buy chocolate (specifically Haigh’s chocolate bears) for the co-worker’s who’d had to put up with my less-than-stellar behaviour the previous day. They seemed somewhat mollified by this.

Servant of Two MastersATG review.

This...wasn’t great. In fact, by giving it 1.5 stars it’s technically the equal-worst rating I’ve ever given, tying with the nightmare that was The Frankie Mullet Interview in Fringe 2009.

But it wasn’t the result of sleep deprivation; it really was that bad. I’d probably have been happier had I been able to talk up a few people, but they hadn’t been able to get their programs printed so I had no way of naming those who were worth mentioning – basically, I decided I couldn’t just write ‘girl who played Truffles’ if I didn’t have her name.

Yes, I’m aware that productions always have their problems and that getting a full cast of talented actors is difficult – but that doesn’t mean people don’t have the right to know what they’re getting into before they buy tickets to something; it’s my responsibility as a reviewer to point out the serious flaws.

In situations like this what I like to think happens after a negative review comes out is that the director of the show sits the cast down and either takes responsibility for his or her actions – because, really, when it comes down to it, that’s their job – or chews them out for not doing what they were supposed to (if that was the case). Sadly, I suspect this doesn’t happen often enough and instead the director will say that the reviewer has no idea about theatre and can be safely ignored.

Some people will believe that; others will know better. Having been in poorly-reviewed shows that have deserved it, and those which haven’t (as much at least) I knew which was which.

What’s made this slightly more hilarious is that I’m now twitter-friends with the girl who played the lead; I found her commenting on Man Covets Bird (more on that later) and followed her; in turn she followed me and then ‘thanked’ me for my review. It took me a few minutes to work out who she was, but once I did it was a bit bizarre for me; I’d never had a random meeting with someone who I’d given a scathing review to. But she seems to be okay with it, which is a relief.

I like to think that when I’m less-than-positive about something I explain why. To have someone not understand why I said what I’d said would mean that I’d failed in my role as a reviewer.

Oh, and I’m still working on this piece having had the first rehearsal for the show I’m in (Tempest) and found that I’m working with someone else from this show – these people keep on showing up!

Sound and Fury’s Private Dick

For some reason I thought I’d seen a Sound and Fury show at a previous Fringe, but as I was waiting in line to go in and the performers were wandering around and speaking to people (in character) I realised that wasn’t the case. But I didn’t let this colour my enthusiasm; this show was (at the time) number one on TalkFringe1 so I wasn’t going to worry about my apparent inability to remember names.

Anyway, the show was brilliant, side-splittingly hilarious – an homage to noir detective stories of the 40s/50s. The three guys played a dozen (or so) characters (including one excellent Peter Lorre-esque one) between them, making rapid costume (and wig) changes behind the tiny stage. While there was a solid story, significant sections of the dialogue were improvised (or, at least, that’s how it seemed) and the result was some very clever, well-thought-out wordplay with the freshness of on-the-spot reactions.

Sadly, the group seems to (at least, from what I hear) be dissolving; a shame, since I’d love to see them again.

1TalkFringe is the official Fringe feedback page; people write reviews and give ratings and the results are calculated to show which shows people like the most. It's quite a handy way to see what's likely to be good relative to other shows.

Day 9
Saturday February 27


My inability to sleep properly continued. I felt so awful I had to have a nap before heading out for the afternoon/evening’s entertainment. Even then I ended up going at least an hour and a half later than I’d originally intended to leave.

Soundwave

If you aren’t familiar with it, Soundwave is a touring rock festival – kind of like a slightly smaller-scale Big Day Out but with more focus on metal, punk, hardcore and emo acts. I’d never been before – I probably would have gone in 2009 only my friends Dan and Amy were getting married that afternoon – but this year I’d decided to go from the moment that Faith No More were announced as the headline act.

Weirdly enough, I wouldn’t count myself as a huge FNM fan – I like their singles but a lot of the album tracks I’d heard were too strange (genre-bending and experimental) for my tastes – but they’ve got an excellent reputation as a live act and I’d never seen them before. Plus a couple of my friends were massive fans and would definitely be going – and, since (because we’re all so busy) I don’t get to spend as much time with them as I’d like, I thought it’d be good opportunity to hang out with them doing something fun.

Despite my seriously diminished energy levels, I decided – for reasons of practicality – to ride my bike; this probably isn’t as dramatic as it sounds ‘cause it’s only about 6km from my place to Bonython Park, where it was on. Driving was out ‘cause any nearby parks would have been taken by those who’d gone in the five or so hours since the gates opened; public transport was also discarded as an option because, since it required two buses, it’d take at least an hour to get there and probably twice as long to get home – if that was even a possibility by the time the show finished.

But I got there okay – despite some precarious situations caused by construction on the Port Road tram extension - and after tracking down the others we set about watching some bands.

I caught the end of Paramore, who sounded okay; we then headed a bit closer to catch Placebo. I’d seen them before at a Big Day Out years ago, but they’ve changed a bit since then and released a few albums, so I got to see them play stuff I’d never seen them play before.

We had a meal break and then wandered back into the crowd to get closer to the stage for Faith No More while Jane’s Addiction was on. I’d also seen Jane’s Addiction at a Big Day Out (I don’t think it was the same one) but it was good to seem them again, too – ‘cause they’re excellent live.

After Jimmy Eat World (to whom I’m indifferent) went off we spent way too long waiting for Faith No More to come on – the whole idea of the two-sided stage is that that doesn’t happen; it technically allows the band on one side to set up while the band on the other side is performing.

But they came on eventually, and were brilliant. They played almost all of their big songs: Epic, Digging The Grave, Easy, and my favourite, Stripsearch – which they lead into with a fun version of Chariots of Fire; you can see them do it at another gig here.

All-in-all it was a excellent set. So glad I got to see them. Yeah, I’d probably have preferred to see them do a standalone gig, but I’ll take what I can get. At this point in their career I don’t necessarily assume they’re ever going to be back.

Day 10
Sunday February 28


Once again I spent most of the day doing very little beyond trying to rest. It didn’t work especially well, but by mid-afternoon I wasn’t too bad.

Weights

An autobiographical show by a blind African-American guy named Lynn – who happens to be a writer, performance artists and former frickin’ blind Judo world champion – who lost his sight in a bar fight in the late 70s. Damn. Very clever and interesting – as well as touching and inspiring. The guy himself was simply amazing.

Words They Make With Their MouthsATG review

Yet another one-person show (this was the ninth so far), this also featured multiple characters – something the performer was very good at. It’s also one of those shows where there’s not a lot I can actually say about it, other than what’s in the review. It really did remind me of Bret Easton Ellis’s earlier works like Less than Zero and The Rules of Attraction, which is kind of interesting if it was a deliberate choice.

Day 11
Monday March 1


I was still suffering from poor sleep and diminished energy so it was probably a good thing I only had the one show to see.

Open Mic

This was an original show, a play with song, written/directed by a fried of mine, with another friend in it. The characters are either staff or regulars of a bar that has an open mic night once a week.

It was, for the most part, clever and funny with some good performances – though I did feel it was a bit too long, especially for a Fringe show, particularly when I’d been hoping for (and needing) an early night.

Day 12
Tuesday March 2


Two shows in a row at the Bakehouse Theatre in the city meant I didn’t have to worry about getting from one venue to another.

AntigoneATG review

Really not what I expected. As the review indicates, it was only based on Antigone, rather than a straightforward production of it. I do kind of wish they’d gone for the traditional version ‘cause I’ve never seen it.

Frankenstein, or, The Modern PrometheusATG review

By the same company - and in the same space - as Antigone, I wasn’t really sure what they were going to do with Frankenstein, but it turned out to be a much less confronting work, and far more enjoyable.

Day 13
Wednesday March 3


Another night with only one show – and and early one at that; it was to start at 7 and presumed to only run for just over an hour.

Man Covets BirdATG review

I’m not sure whether it comes through in the review – fanboyish adoration is frowned upon - but this was one of the most amazing shows I’ve ever experienced. And I use that word (rather than ‘seen’, which would be the word I’d usually use) to describe it, because it was not just something one ‘saw’; it really was an experience – a truly engrossing, captivating, mesmerising piece of theatre.

Obviously, it’s not the sort of thing that you’re going to see very often. I shudder to think of what the budget for it was; while you could save money and do a stripped down version of it (minus perhaps the real grass, the projection and the live music), it would result in a very different production. On paper the story itself is quite thin; with everything else added on it’s the basis for a profound experience.

Really, it’s unusual for me to like something like this; call me old-fashioned, but I’m a believer in everything requiring a strong narrative – which this isn’t. But with this show it didn’t matter.

I just hope it comes back for a return season. Not enough people got to see it.

Day 14
Thursday March 4


Amanda Palmer

This was actually the first ticket I bought to this year’s Fringe – mostly because I was fairly sure it would sell out. I’d seen Dresden Dolls at the UniBar a few years back, but was keen to catch the First Lady of Punk Cabaret again.

She did not disappoint, playing almost entirely new material – in fact, she said at the start that if we were there to hear ‘the best of Dresden Dolls we were pretty much fucked’ – and it was great. A bunch of songs that she’s written in the last couple of weeks and a guest appearance from a Melbourne act ‘The Jane Austen Argument’ – the song of theirs they collaborated on was brilliant – and some other great tunes.

What she also mentioned is that she’s likely to be back early next year – on her honeymoon with Neil Gaiman – so fingers crossed it’ll be a full-length gig rather than an hour-long Fringe set.

Cole’s GirlsATG Review

Once again the review covers it. It started a bit late and ran well over time, which was annoying since it was a week night and I was still wanting as much sleep as I could get.

Day 15
Friday March 5


I was down for three shows but wasn’t as concerned about the late finish because I knew I could sleep in the next day. Of course I didn't, but I wasn't to know that at the time.

Austen Found

Advertised as ‘the undiscovered musicals of Jane Austen’, I’d arranged to see this with a friend, who’d bought the tickets the previous week; however, the reviews weren’t promising. But I kept that to myself since, given the fact that it is a semi-improvised show, it was entirely possible that they were just having an ‘off night’ when the critics were there.

This turned out to be the right attitude; it turned out to be a great show. I’ve got a fairly low opinion of improv unless it’s done exceptionally well – and these four women from New Zealand certainly managed to achieve that. There were moments when we were nearly rolling in the aisles.

I was so impressed I even bought a fridge magnet.

Philip Escoffey: Six Impossible Things Before Dinner

Philip Escoffey is a mentalist – yes, like the television show – which is something I’d never experienced before. But I’m very glad I went; it was one of the most genuinely entertaining shows I’ve seen. He essentially gets people from the audience to choose things at random and proceeds to predict what they’ve chosen – cards, for example. But he has several ‘tests’ (the ‘six impossible things’) and each is more complex than the one before it and includes predicting things like numbers on a bingo page coloured at random (without the person looking), words picked from a dictionary and so forth.

It is, to put it mildly, stunning; his ability to make it seem like he is genuinely psychic (he assures the audience – repeatedly – that he is not) is mindblowing. It really would be easier to just assume that he does have some kind of ‘gift’ because for him not to have involves a level of cleverness and skill at sleight-of-hand that are nigh on unbelievable. Combined with an great stage presence and a quick wit he’s not just a mentalist but a genuine entertainer.

Oh, and he doesn’t have ‘stooges’ in the audience; I know this because I participated in one of the tests and called out the number of a bingo ball I picked from a vase.

Lady Carol

I’d seen Lady Carol in the previous year’s Fringe, as part of a show called Company of Strangers – probably the best thing I saw that year – so as soon as I’d noticed she’d be back this year I made sure I’d be able to catch her show.

‘A tall, blonde, gorgeous, foul-mouthed Irish ukulele-playing cabaret singer’ is how I describe her to people, and that pretty much covers it. She does lots of interesting covers – including Radiohead and a fantastic version of the Cab Calloway song Minnie the Moocher2 - as well as originals. She had support from a keyboardist and a drummer this time around, and that added an interesting dimension.

A lot of what she played was what she’d played the year before but I didn’t care; I’ll happily go and see it all again if she comes back next year.

Here’s a clip of her from YouTube, playing Radiohead's Creep.

2Made (more) famous in The Blue Brothers.

Day 16
Saturday March 6


At some point during the week I’d realised I was coming dangerously close to being ‘over’ the Fringe – not so much because of the number of shows I’d seen but because of the lack of sleep I’d had and the fact that, because the weather had turned cold and wet, my plan to ride everywhere and avoid traffic and parking hassles had been rendered impractical.

So I decided to cut back on any further shows and only go to what I considered the ‘must-sees’ – which meant going into town in the afternoon, heading back home for a few hours and then coming back for another show. Kind of inefficient, but I didn’t really have a choice.

True West

Exhaustion kept me from seeing this last time it was on; considering everything I heard about it was overwhelmingly positive I wasn’t going to miss it this time around. I’d heard of the writer, Sam Shepard, before – he’s also an actor, having appeared in a few things: - but while I knew of his reputation as a playwright, I’d never seen a show of his performed.

Now, should anything else of his be produced here, I’m likely to go see it – since this was an excellent show, in that very intense, confronting and impactful style of modern American theatre.

According to Wikipedia there was a production in the US with Gary Sinise and John Malkovich as the leads – how awesome would that have been?

The Sociable Plover

Another production from Guy Masterson’s Centre for International Theatre, and this one had Guy himself in it.

It’s a great play – very well written, and extremely clever and it was made even better by having someone of Guy’s caliber in it, particularly since the opening scene – and a substantial section of the beginning of the play – has only the one character (the one played by him) in it, requiring someone capable of conveying the character using very few words.

And he does it spectacularly.

Day 17
Sunday March 7


Another day with a show in the early afternoon and another at night.

Under Milk Wood

I’d seen Guy Masterson’s one-man version a few years back and enjoyed it so I thought I’d see it again. However, while it was still good I didn’t enjoy it as much as I did the first time because a) exhaustion on my part, and b) the venue – last time was in the Union Hall at Adelaide Uni while this time was in a much smaller space at Higher Ground.

The Hamlet Apocalypse

Finding the venue for this was a bit of a challenge; it was in what was once the cinemas in Rundle Mall and only accessible via a laneway that I didn’t even know existed – despite passing it every day on the way to work.

It’s one I’m loath to talk too much about because I felt it’s too easy to diminish the impact by revealing the twist – though the blurb in the Fringe Guide did exactly that. But what exactly is going on isn’t really explained in the show itself, so you’re faced with a choice of either too much information ruining the surprise or too little and being confused. I’d like to think I’d have worked it out had they not explained it beforehand, but I’ll never know for sure.

Still, the production itself was excellent – I particularly liked the sound design, which helped make it even more disconcerting and scary - and it was a very clever and interesting idea.

Day 18
Monday March 8


Nothing. I did nothing, saw nothing, went nowhere – literally, because it was a public holiday.

You’d better believe I enjoyed it. I was supposed to go see Heroin(e) for Breakfast at Holden Street – and in a way I’m sorry I didn’t, because I’d only heard good things about it – but I hadn’t bought tickets and that meant I could talk myself out of going.

Day 19
Tuesday March 9


I was feeling somewhat better after my shut-in day so I decided I’d see a third show after the two I was reviewing.

Fear of a Brown Planet ReturnsATG review

These two guys were great – I hadn’t seen much comedy this Fringe; I probably should have seen more. It also reminded of while I hate racism a lot, I get to do so without having to suffer from it.

AmbidextrousATG review

There’s not much to say that wasn’t in the review.

Almost an Evening

The allure of this show was that each of the three plays were written by Ethan Coen – as in brother of Joel and co-creator of some of my all-time favourite films like Fargo, The Big Lebowski and No Country for Old Men.

There were some good bits, but overall this production reminded me that there are times when what can probably accurately be termed Jewish-American humour just doesn’t work as well in Australia, both in terms of the performances and the audience reactions.

What I mean by that is that I don’t think Australians are, in general, neurotic enough; also, the average Australian hasn’t had anywhere near as much exposure to Jewish-American humour as the average American – years of Seinfeld repeats on Go! (and, before them, Ten) notwithstanding – and certainly not anywhere near as much as theatre-going Americans.

That said there were some great comic moments, and I’m glad I got to see it.

Day 20
Wednesday March 10


The last night of the Fringe for me because on Friday I’d be heading off to Melbourne for the Global Atheist Conference (which I’ve already written about here) and I wanted the Thursday night to pack and try to get some rest.

The Snow Queen

There was no way I was going to miss this, a show by Theater Simple, a company who I’ve adored since I saw a show of theirs in the first Fringe I went to (way back in 1998) and who have been back nearly every Fringe since. Some of my best Fringe memories are of TS shows, including Notes From Underground, The Fever and the utterly brilliant 52 Pickup.

Unfortunately, this was the only show of theirs I’d be seeing in the 2010 Fringe, since their schedule had them doing most of their shows either during the day while I was at work or on the weekend I’d be in Melbourne – or both.

The Snow Queen, based on the Hans Christian Andersen story, was more of a kid’s show – TS seem to have moved in that direction in recent years – but it was still very well done (unsurprisingly; they have very high standards) and entertaining.

And that was it; Fringe 2010 was over.

Looking back

Sadly, while I saw some great shows, I was simply not able to get enough sleep throughout the festival to still be enjoying it by the final week. Next year I’ll either do less or – better yet – take time off work. That will, of course, depend on work.

Oh, and I'll also write about it a lot sooner. Considering I'm now looking around to buy a netbook, I'll have no excuse to not be more up-to-date with my commentary if I can carry around a device that I'll be able to put my thoughts into during those times when I'm between shows or waiting in line or on the bus.