Review: Flowerchildren

My review of Flowerchildren (Theatreworks production in 2011) is now published by Stage Whispers.

An updated review of the 2013 production at Melbourne's Comedy Theatre is available here.

More reviews

Behind the Phantom's Mask: Meet Ben Lewis

Desperate times call for desperate measures. During previews for Love Never Dies, line changes came so fast and furious that Ben Lewis, playing the Phantom, jotted them down on the handiest prop. Lucy Graham went backstage to peak behind the mask.

Backstage at the Regent Theatre is a rabbit warren. Costumes line the walls: wigs, feathers, tulle, and an array of moustaches hang on the wall. Ben Lewis strides confidently ahead: blundstone boots, black beanie, and coffee to go. He oozes confidence, but not the gung-ho variety. It reads,this is who I am, take it or not. Two costume attendants sit on the floor, mending, and smile as we pass. Three hours out from curtain, and backstage is effervescent. Voluptuous singing rolls along passageways, and laughter trickles through change room doors.

Landing the role of Phantom in Love Never Dies at Melbourne’s Regent Theatre means English-born Ben Lewis, 31, has “never been pushed to this extent before”. While he doesn’t describe himself as superstitious, Lewis admits a preference for fairly structured ways.

Continue reading.

You may also be interested in
Review: Love Never Dies (Melbourne)
Die Young and Have a Good-Looking Corpse (Jordie Lane talks about Gram Parsons)
Ray Lawler: The Summer of our 90th Year
Justin Burford: From rock band to musical theatre
More reviews and articles.

The Inconvenience of Ageing

Some years back, on the eve of school resuming after summer holidays, my six-year old was visibly distressed. As far as I could tell, he had very little to worry about. My desire for routine's return mingled with the sadness I would feel as my children left the following morning.  But now this stood in the way of a peaceful evening.

A lump swelled somewhere between my throat and belly. I scratched about for positive responses, but the promise of rekindled friendships and games were no match for his angst. This boy-child had never been comfortable with change, and yet his intensity troubled me.

I tucked us both into bed and we lay in his darkened room. I recited A.A Milne, sang funny songs, and willed him to breathe deeply. But I could elicit no remedy. We lay in silence for a time. ‘Grade One is going to be great,’ I told him. But his response revealed deep fear: ‘Mummy, it’s going to get harder and harder every day, and there’s nothing I can do about it.’

He is right of course. Societal expectations increase relentlessly for most of our years. Ability brings independence, demanding responsibility as part of the bargain. But autonomy lasts only as long as a body can keep pace.  In ageing our physical limitations are linked to pride. Independence bleeds into dependence once more.  

Today I watched a woman getting into a car. It was no simple undertaking. She leant on a walking stick, and held onto a companion with her other arm as they shuffled across a carpark. She was, I imagined, in her mid 70s, although her incapacity may have pulled the wool over my eyes. As they neared the car, a third woman emerged from it. At every step in the process the two helped their friend into the vehicle until she finally settled in her seat. At one point they all laughed. Patience was the champion.

When I am sick or injured, I find it perpetually frustrating, but it dawned on me today that at some stage of life my physical abilities will not return: the ability to play sport, to play music, the walk a distance, to feed or wash myself, to tie my laces, or drive, or use the toilet.  I wonder how I'll go with that.

My boy-child is quite right: it does get harder and harder. But the lessons change. Eventually the responsibilities that come with aging require some relinquishment of independence. Such a painful dose of humility and self-reflection is, I am certain, the most difficult change of all.

You may also enjoy reading:
Eating the Neighbour's Pets
In a Canberra cafe

Life Experience: the most yawn-worthy qualification in the world?
Wisteria Awakening

Review: Kiss Me Kate (Ringwood Secondary College)

At Ringwood Secondary College this afternoon, shots were fired, a bird dropped dead, faces were slapped, pot plants hurled, people were deceived, and a whip was cracked. Luckily it was all in the script.

Read my review of the preview performance given to a largely primary school audience yesterday afternoon. If you're a local, why not buy a ticket.  

You may also enjoy reading
Happy Rehearsal Campers at Ringwood
All the World's a Stage for Amazing Performing Arts Teacher
More previews, reviews, profiles and features