'Death of a Salesman' at Theatre Royal

Death of a Salesman tells the story of a man a little too old to continue his demanding work and a little too young to leave it all together. Willy Loman and his wife Linda are struggling to pay off their mortgage and the stress shows when Willy starts to lose his concentration on the road. We meet the scene when drop-kick son Biff moves home after years of drifting, and past regrets rise to the surface.

It’s a sincere examination on what has changed and what has stayed the same in contemporary Western society. Does a ranch still cost a few thousand dollars? No. Do families still experience job disruption and personal stress?  Yes, of course. It was apparent how close to home some sections of the play resounded when an according laugh broke out of the audience - especially when Loman talks about the relief of paying off a house, only to have everyone moved out. Death of a Salesman is the classic twentieth century play, driven by dialogue, exempt from elaborate sets and performances – and the Belvoir production is just as raw, confronting and real. Director Simon Stone opts for a minimalist set and maximum power from the actors and stays true to Arthur Miller’s script.

Colin Friels holds a strong stage presence as Willy Loman, from his soft mad utterings to the loud, alarming outbursts of frustration. He concentrates on the power of the human voice and although reminiscent of Dustin Hoffman’s 1985 film performance, bared on stage Friels is almost frightening. His poetic reflections on work, life and the point of it are close to a modern truth. 

Patrick Brammall brings a sad sensitivity to Biff, the eldest Loman son, lost in the modern world where business means lying and the charismatic one always wins. Younger son Hap, played by Hamish Michael, counteracts Biff’s despondency with the chirpy tune of a young New York City slicker living the life of bars, business and ladies.

The Belvoir actors speak in an Australian twang and it’s true that this story could take place anywhere but Stone sets the piece by New York. It is a bit bizarre hearing an Australian talk about lumber and pounds. Death of a Salesman is a heavy watch, there’s no comic relief or musical interludes here, and that’s what makes it so powerful as a play. The performance demands a mature audience. For the words of 63 years ago are still meaningful and the Belvoir production articulates just that in a compelling, uninhibited interpretation.  

'The Duchess of Malfi' at the Sydney Opera House

An unusual choice for a Bell Shakespeare production, The Duchess of Malfi proves to entertain, frighten and mesmerise at the same time. John Bell's direction of John Webster's fierce play remains true to the brutality and drama of the script while presenting a piece of mature acting and powerful delivery. The Duchess of Malfi follows a sequence of revenge - after the young duchess is widowed her brothers wish to maintain their control over her. The strong elements of misogyny in the play, or at least patriarchy, are not entirely pertinent to the modern audience. The story fundamentally relies on the values of its own time but the Sydney Opera house viewers didn't seem to have too much of a problem with the historical aspects.

Unlike in a typical Shakespeare play, Webster does not provide any breathing room in the story, any comic relief or substitute for the intense drama. Similarly, Bell does not provide his audience with an interval, possibly in an effort to fully draw us deeper into the story. When the duchesses' brothers discover that she has married and had a baby in secret, a string of murders follow. This production deals with the deaths in an unorthodox way, in some parts it feels almost like a horror film - with realistic blood and gore, in others the act is almost a wicked puppetry, an abstracted motion. 

The minimalist set confines the actor's movement, for what is a play full of motion and change. In fact, Webster's piece seems to imitate the passion and thrill of Shakespeare's work without the poetic, complex language. It is not the most comprehensive play from the company but the sense of instinct and raw primality appears in the maturity of the acting. Lucy Bell plays the duchess herself with a dynamic haunting performance up against that of her good-hearted lover Antonio (played by Matthew Moore). The most skilful representation is that of the pain, the regret, the consequence of the characters' impassioned moments.

There are many erotic moments during the play, without the tenacity of a romantic Shakespeare, developed physically and full of obsession. It's almost as if these characters cannot control themselves when it comes to love, family or death. There are confronting moments and because of the lack of interval or downplayed scenes, the audience can feel almost as overwhelmed and emotionally wrecked as the story's creatures. The compact set is lined by closed doors, focusing on what is hidden and more importantly who - as out of those doors comes both lust and danger.

John Bell's abstract take on a play seeking for meaning and unraveling obsession accentuates our hidden intentions. Among the characters, each of them has a secret. It's only up to the audience to decide who to feel the most sorry for in this great tragedy on the stage.

'Hamlet' at the Seymour Centre

The latest theatre production of Shakespeare's psycho-thriller Hamlet brings the familiar symbols and speech back to life with an intense and intimate approach. Director Damien Ryan led a passionately performed and yet refreshingly comprehensive performance - and the high standard of acting across the cast broke down barriers for any audience member. Hamlet deals with confronting themes but the family strife and self-destruction which culminates throughout the story seemed very tangible. There were a few stage tricks, which brought a movie-like quality to murder scenes, but overall the production returns to the natural roots of Shakespeare, the simplicity of the stage.

Lindsay Farris tackled his principal role as Hamlet with commendable zeal, delving into the dark disturbed elements of the character as well as commanding comic dialogue. The environment in which this boy lives in, and he does appear in this production as a young spiteful boy, is rich and regal yet his inner torment pierces through the illusions of the adults' comfortable lives. The circular stage allows for varying perspectives and brings the audience right into the action, and although some seats on the side have limited exposure to characters, nearly everyone in the house has a clear view of the storyline.

The dynamics of the script were acted out so naturally and the movement perfectly choreographed that Ryan's piece plunges the audience into the story. The play is not strictly in order but for the purposes of understanding it from a contemporary viewpoint and to exemplify the character's intentions, it worked well. The set was ever-changing and realistic, and a clever update of technology into the play further provoked questions on close relationships and inner turmoil. There was less soliloquising than in the original work but watching the interactions between the characters was mesmerising and Farris' Hamlet connected immediately with the audience.

A play for both adult and young audiences, Hamlet proves to bring a touch of contemporary stage practices to the traditional Shakespeare production and succeeds in telling a story of love and obsession.

'Macbeth' at the Sydney Opera House

Bell Shakespeare's production of Shakespeare's 'Macbeth' at the Drama Theatre maintains the original language and arrangement of the play but deep down it was not true to an Elizabethan production. Directed by Peter Evans, it extracts the mysterious and obscure aspects but instead of superstition, the character's motives focused more on their psychology. The performance space was a postmodern ambiguous outdoor set, which allowed for plenty of movement around the stage, and the actors' presences were quite dynamic. A glass ceiling tilted towards the audience highlighted the play's exploration of individual tremor- the blurred lines between dark and light, male and female, moral and immoral.

At the start of the performance Dan Spielman as Macbeth seemed to have a weak stage presence, or at least deliver the lines without any extra conviction. However as his character's conscience made a turn for the worse, Spielman harnessed the overwhelming guilt for a representation of a man at once both weakened and energised by mad frenzy. Blood was aplenty, with Macbeth's victims returning on stage to haunt him, dripping consciously with in a gory wet red. Spielman's partner, Kate Mulvany, played a convincing Lady Macbeth and embodied the manipulative, androgynous and erotic wife. Soliloquies from the remorseful leads proved to be a highlight in the adaptation- with each character indulging in their moment in the spotlight. The language was audible in the close setting but often too much deliberating over archaic language stopped the natural flow of the narrative performance.

The only aspect which was a complete mystery to me was the female witch (Lizzie Schebesta) who appeared as both a slaughtered child, messenger boy and young soldier. She appeared to bring elements of the tortured cryptic witch (replacing the original three witches which appear in Shakespeare's play) into her various characters which disrupted the illusion of a flowing story. At times it was hard to get lost in the narrative as there were moments of disjoint, especially as the characters left from the stage, making it clear that they were doing so and leaving a scene unfinished or abruptly did not help.

With eerie sound effects and contemporary strings, the audience was sure to get the feeling of a classic play filled with horrific tragedy. Costume was selected minimally, with a contemporary twist on heavy, overbearing traditional wear. Overall, Evans has presented an interesting adaptation on a play about morality, full of life's questions- and resorted to answer none of them. A mysterious, yet provoking piece, it is not the most comprehensive Shakespeare but a dark, psychological work evolves on stage into a subconscious nightmare.