Showing posts with label Ross Balbuziente. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ross Balbuziente. Show all posts

06 May 2014

Beware the memory hole


It was in everyone's school bags when I went to school and it was about Stalinism, not about our world, but there's something in common and we're talking of it now. We've been talking of Orwell for decades and he's claimed by right and left. We'd seen this very company, shake & stir theatre co., doing Animal Farm sometime last year. We caught them last Saturday with 1984. It was not an easy night. The performance was without interval. The story was close to what I remember. Room 101 and the prior torture were excruciating. The love scenes were hopeful. The perverted response of one character whose 7-yo daughter had dobbed him in for thoughtcrime (supposedly talking in his sleep, "Down with Big Brother") was agonising. He could only agree that thoughtcrime comes uninvited. And we shivered with the commitment of youth who will dob in a dad for an ideology. An imposed ideology at that. There are warnings here, of course, for all manner of politics. Memory as the basis of truth, and how it can be manipulated. Think our constrained media and our life of pleasurable immediacy. There's a line about wars that can't be won but must continue. The obvious recent case is the War on Terrorism that is without end, but Abbott said just in recent days (paraphrasing), that we can't win the War on Drugs but we can't cease it. No way do I think he's expressing tyranny, but the thinking is inherently Manichaeistic and dangerous; in Bush's words, with us or against us. How much are we influenced by Orwell: newspeak, thoughtcrime, doublethink, Big Brother, memory hole, Ministry of Truth, Room 101, unperson. The spin that is expressed in the label, Ministry of Love: we see it every day, even in the naming of legislation. The two-way telescreens that are everpresent are parallelled in our big data, surveillance-rich society. We haven't come to 1984, yet, but this is a parable of warning. It's frightening but worryingly familiar.

shake + stir theatre co was established in 2008; they are a youth theatre company; they tour with Australia Council assistance; they are convincing and the works I've seen have youthful intelligence and wariness. Long may that last. They are annually seen by an audience of 180,000. The cast were Bryan Probets (the central character, Winston Smith), Nelle Lee (Julia, his lover), David Whitney (O'Brien of the Inner Party) and Ross Balbuziente and Nick Skubij. Michael Futcher directed. This was a terrifying and uncomfortable night of premonitions and warnings.

This is CJBlog post no. 1200

09 March 2013

Believing Squealer


Animal Farm is a fable and storybookish with animals as characters, but it’s also allegorical with parallels to Russian communism and Stalin. It’s also a common school text. I remember some scenes from my reading many years ago, not least the image of the strong and dedicated horse Boxer as he’s taken away to the knackery. It’s obviously still on the curriculum because there was a large cohort of teenagers, not least the Canberra Grammar girls sitting in front of us. For all these reasons, the Q was well stocked with an audience who knew and understood the story and intent. It’s been dramatised by three of the cast of five and won various awards for the shake & stir drama company in the past and is now on tour from Queensland including a 3 mid-week day stay in Queanbeyan.

I enjoyed it but it wasn’t the emotionally charged experience that was West Side Story a few week back in this theatre. The story is tragic and the evil of totalitarianism is palpable, but I found it far more an intellectual than an emotional experience. That’s probably apt. Emotions can be dangerous things and their abuse is obvious in this tale. There’s also a good deal of narration in this dramatisation and maybe it’s inevitable to tell the story. The small cast plays numerous roles. Various animals are minimally signified by minor props (ears, manes, tails) or just by posture and the actors merge and out of the role of narrator. The story is nicely developed as the seven commandments change over time and finally merge and invert as “All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others". The final scene of pigs on two legs negotiating with humans was a disheartening resolution but it fits this essentially tragic view. I especially admired the presentation of the horses and dogs. Boxer’s and Molly/Clover’s gaits were endearing and wonderfully believable and the dogs were truly fearsome. Napoleon and Snowball are essential to the story but I have to give it to Squealer as the consummate wily political hack who manipulates with rhetoric and deceit and rewritten history. The animals have some awareness but it’s the old donkey, Benjamin, who can read and has some understanding of what’s going on, although I imagine he would benefit from the greater depth possible in the book. The cast appear in dank and dirty minimalist clothing and daubed with mud. From the mud, to the mud, ever subject to elites and abuse. It’s a discouraging view of the world but one that’s perfectly at home in the mid-20th century of world wars and show trials and genocide.

We drove home afterwards discussing the history and its implications: of the Russian revolution through to Stalin and whether totalitarianism is the inevitable result of Marxism or perhaps of any ideology. Certainly there are totalitarianisms of the right, as well, and Orwell, himself, was of the left although often claimed by right. He’s an honest and relevant writer and wonderfully easy to read and openly opinionated (although I don’t share his method for a perfect cup of tea). And this is a fable, if black, but also a historical allegory that’s a little out of time but not without relevance and certainly worth a revisit. shake & stir theatre company featured actors Ross Balbuziente, Nelle Lee, Nick Skubij, Tim Dashwood and Bryan Probets directed by Michael Fulcher. Ross, Nelle and Nick created this theatrical interpretation from George Orwell’s original novel.