TUESDAY 29TH MAY 2007
REVIEW BY NICHOLAS PICKARD
HTTP://ARTSJOURNALIST.BLOGSPOT.COM
Finally, finally, finally I have found a group of young Australian theatre makers who are pushing the boundaries of theatrical exploration. And I use the term 'theatre makers' quite deliberately to differentiate them from the more usual theatre collaborations.
It was through Alison Croggon's Theatre Notes that I first heard of this group, saying 'Sydneyites interested in bold new writing' should get to this production. But it is quite clear that it isn't just new bold writing that is on display.
Essentially this production is a monologue of poetic rantings from the self baptised character of Corvus - a name that originates from the Latin meaning 'crow'. It is the mythology that surrounds this symbol that provides the basis for this production and springs into a theatrical exploration of space, time, imagery and ritual. Think Greek Mythology, Apollo, Volpone, The Alphonso, Ted Hughes, John Fowles.
Entering the large and cathedral like theatre in Carriageworks, it is clear that this show is the first time that a company has created something specifically for the Carriageworks space. The balance and decoration of the stage, the lighting and the depth of movement make this a unique event that should be experienced within this theatre. From the moment you walk in, there is a manipulation of the eye and you quickly become aware of how vast the space is through the exposure of its industrial skeleton.
Like a wind-chime frame over the stage hangs a collection of gates, grills, metallic frames, window frames, prison beds. The immense size of it creates a cocoon for the audience, or more specifically, a kind of cage, from which we view the travellings and emotions of the raconteuse.
The writing is some of the most robust I have heard in a performance in this city. It is provocative and poetic and provides a stunning platform for the collaborators to create visual images that are so striking that you almost forget where you are, so dizzying is the look and feel of this piece.
At times the writing does envelop itself and loses certain ideas by being occasionally self-conscious. But as a text, it is throwing the gauntlet down. It is experimenting with the form of words through metaphor and ancient symbol and slamming them down upon a character's shoulders and allowing that character to breath a rhythm that can be at times shocking.
This theatrical rhythm is explored through one performer who makes her way from one station of the space to another. At each station, Corvus will deliver a piece of her monologue
and will be accompanied by a subtle yet striking theatrical image through the use of the space, lighting and sound. She carries us on this raw emotional journey, at times talking to herself, talking to us, talking to her mother, talking to a priest and moving through the space in the most painstaking way.
I want to fly, full of lightness. To be a sparrow, a bluebird, a blackbird, a wren. Small and buoyant. Easy in the air. I want to move through stories, through the ages. I want to glide across the years. I want to peel the moments away from me like skins. To haunt the wings of the poet. I want to pepper the prayer book with whispers of love and dreams of love. I want to be a sparrow, a bluebird, a blackbird, a wren.
It is at its simplest a production that blends performance art with text. It is, at its most complex an exploration of individuality, sexuality, love, feminist identity, responsibility and expectation with the backdrop of man-made devastation and the original sin of Adam and Eve.
Dancing in the afterglow of the mushroom cloud. The crow moves with an unbearable weight—fashioned from all the world’s night—inside herself. The crow flies from nightmare to nightmare, infecting mythologies, polluting the transparent drop of rain, of flame. The crow flies sickly though black wave after black wave, the ocean floor concealed by oil.
But what stays with me the most from last night is the photographic type imagery that was created within the space. From the far reaches of the back wall and the experimentation of side and foot lighting, to the use of shadow, silhouette and the use of sound that at one moment is emotionally frightening. This production is pure theatre that has brought together the talents of some exciting individuals that are at the forefront of a theatrical exploration. It is brave, honest and passionate and a desperately needed influence in Sydney.
This production is on till Saturday. Go and see it.
While The Rabble’s inaugural production of Dennis Kelly’s Osama the Hero clearly demonstrated their dedication to the creation of challenging new Australian theatre, their second production, Jasmin Chan’s Corvus, takes exploration of theatrical forms to new dimensions.
Using Carriageworks’ vast Bay 17 as backdrop, director Kate Davis takes Chan’s sparse poetic text and creates a rich visual and auditory world of wonder, desolation, hope and despair.
The overwhelming enormity of the space is highlighted by a stunning lighting design by Emma Valente and intriguingly subtle sound design by Matt Davis.
But these elements play a supporting role to Dana Miltins’ brave portrayal of Corvus (“Crow”) as she interacts with the mesmerising set designed by the director.
Miltins throws herself into the role of Corvus, literally limping around the stage, embodying bird, woman, child. Aching cries and confronting physicality are balanced with moments of absurd comedy and light. Her dance with a belt and a bluebird provoke the best kind of awkward laughter. Davis is not afraid to tackle head-on the realm of the ugly, often revealing a rare and unexpected beauty. Miltins explores these territories fearlessly, playing in the worlds Davis has constructed like a delighted child.
There are some extraordinary images, sometimes so strong the piece becomes almost a visual art installation. This is theatre though, theatre at its most exciting and daring. The costume design, by Iceland-based Sruli Recht – a haute-couture deconstructionist mix of bird, schoolgirl, woman – is sublime.
WEDNESDAY 5TH JUNE 2007
REVIEW BY ELIZABETH BENTLEY
DRUM MEDIA
Corvus is a very grown-up work. Which is to say, if you’re looking for entertainment-style theatre where the beginning, middle and end fall into a predictable sequence, then you’ll be disappointed. To call it performance poetry would fall short of its grandeur and scope, but Corvus does have something in common with both performance poetry and physical theatre. It was much like a series of performance poems connected by the theme of exile and abandonment.
While actor Dana Miltins played “Corvus” the crow/woman trapped in the surreal landscape of the play, the design was almost the real star. Director Kate Davis also acted as designer, ably assisted by lighting and sound designers Emma Valente and Matt Davis, with costumes dreamed up by Sruli Recht. The effect superbly eerie. As Miltins moved about the vast stage from one poetic moment to another, new vistas appeared before our eyes almost by magic. A pile of white snow. A gilded birdcage. A velvet doorway. A tumble of plastic coated books. A hospital trolley crowned with antlers. It was a fabulously successful exercise in staging the surreal and well worth a look for that aspect alone.
Miltins is a magnetic performer and was always in control of her material. She writhed, dragged, screamed, sang and wept like a woman gone mad – in fact, the underlying horror of the script appeared to be the terrible suffering of a person trapped inside her own skull. She embodied eons of feminine “exiles”, from Eve to the Greek goddess Hecate.
Corvus is not for everyone. But for those who like to touch the void, it’s a sublime and courageous theatrical adventure.
