Axe 2
Shortly, sweetly, the festival ends. Three weeks. Sixty plays. And 14 prizes.
Rather than a gala night - showcasing the Fest’s top 10 plays - those at the helm have steered towards a foyer bash at the end of Week 3 to announce the overall champs.
But really, perhaps sounding like a philosophising alsoran, every playwright is a winner, every actor, director. What other festival can offer you real time on a professional stage? I know I’m proud as Judy’s mate to see my own 10-minute drama run before a 1000-plus audience over this week, and I’m sure I’ve learnt more about the fragile craft of telling onstage stories than a DIY book could ever offer.
But congratz to Best Drama (49 Stories About Brian McKenzie by Gregory Hardigan - see an earlier entry to get the play’s gorgeous gist), Best Comedy (Thrilling Hostage Melodrama At High Speeds With Pineapple - ditto), Best Independent Theatre Co (Black Lung for their 8-minute gay rape - go figure), Best Director (Johnno Katz for Bury Your Goldfish - and no more pond life for 2008, OK?), Best Male Actor (Keith Brockett in Death by 1000 Cuts - the Mika Tsoi Wildcard I kick myself for missing - what was it about?), Best Female (Nicola Wright in Almost, who was consistently good across 4 performances, and does not have an American accent in real life).
The People’s Choice among the Wildcards I did see: Tupperware. Eight women in 50s frocks lose decorum during a Tupperware party. It’s a riot, and writer Wayne Tunks should consider extending the piece, possibly with a cabaret touch. Can you see the neon? Tupperware - Lifting the Lid on the 50s. I’ve never laughed at the word ‘hussy’ so hard.
Ironically, considering its title, Almost was the outright winner as People’s Choice in the Top 30. And that wistful slideshow about Brian McKenzie picked up the lollies for Best Overall Play.
As the applause subsides, I have to wonder why plays like Word Space (the NO WAR graffiti duo on the Opera House) failed to receive a single nod, despite a great script, David Mence’s inventive direction and first-class acting.
Similar head-scratching questions apply to The Gap - the effective goldfish play - by Phoebe Hartley. Or Mark Andrew’s blood-chilling Gravity monologue. But shortlist’s need to be short I suppose. All three shows deserved the extra limelight. But maybe three weeks of theatre in Melbourne’s sacred belly is limelight enough.
As for Axe, we came, we swung, we made a mark. Thanks to Gorkem Acaroglu for her direction and unshakeability, and Johnnie Targan for wearing nicotine patches in the name of art.
Nick Fox is not just the best white Jagajaga the modern theatre has seen, he’s also fluent in his own self-made gibberish. Anna Carmody as the Universal Woman was the play’s calm centre, while Troy Benjamin can’t believe he’s leapt from table-waiting to stage-acting in a month - and loved the whole surreal ride.
Finally, at the risk of sounding like a goldfish, thanks to Short and Sweet for the oxygen. And a guy like Alex Broun - the artistic director - for his wall-to-wall exuberance. Playwriting needs as many champions as it can get. Once this hangover quits the system, I’m looking forward to visiting the blank page.