20. Theatre is more than a subject. Uni courses should not be the only theatre you do for three years.
Author Archive: Jonathan Price
Clybourne Park is a play of two halves which enacts a game of verbal dodge-ball around the issue of racism in America. Part one takes place in 1959, where the white middle-class sits comfortably in the protective ideology of “separate-but-equal”, and Jim Crow laws provide the basis for self-aggrandising, institutionalised discrimination.
Coming to BATS this week is a new work called White Cloud, a fusion of storytelling and live music. It marks a first-time collaboration between two prominent New Zealand artists, Tim Finn and Ken Duncum, both of whom are apparently very excited by their inter-medial experiments. I spoke on the phone to Ken Duncum to find out more about their process.
It’s a very pretty story, and makes me want to go read the book. But in adapting his novel for the stage it appears Almond has had some difficulty stepping completely into the shoes of a playwright.
I knew nothing of Barbara Tate walking into West End Girls, which may be considered something of a handicap when it comes to casting a critical eye over a theatrical adaptation of her memoirs. My participation as audience member, at least, was not hindered by ignorance.
Quiver presents some decent relationship drama, and some very amusing moments, but ultimately it leans too heavily on its least developed features.
Set in the late ‘80s on the eve of the Chernobyl disaster, it follows a rich cast of characters of Venezuelan- and Soviet-Jewish heritage all coming to terms with the sacrifices and benefits of moving to New Zealand.
Having spent the last seven years as an improvisor with the Court Jesters in Christchurch, Dan Pengelly moved to Wellington this year to begin his Masters degree in Theatre Arts (Directing) at Toi Whakaari and Victoria. Recently returned, fatigued, from an international workshop in Canberra, Dan was obliging enough to let me pick his brains […]
Those of us who ran the NCEA Drama gauntlet will probably know what theatre looks like when it is filmed. For the purposes of moderation and prosperity every cringe-inducing internal was committed, warts and all, to a dedicated DV Tape marked “Yr 12 2008 2.6 Mapaki” or something similar. Before these tapes were lost forever in the depths of Chris Carter’s personal viewing library, our ever-obliging drama teachers could be coerced into letting us students review our performance. The results, invariably, were fucking awful.