Comments Off on A reminder to feed your dad: “Third Storey” debuts to packed audiences
Easily the bravest choice of NUTS’ 2024 season was their first ever full length student-written play, Third Storey, written and directed by Eli Narev and Adam Gottschalk (pictured above). We had little to no expectations walking into this show, and upon leaving could only describe it as “on crack, but in the best way.”
Third Storey follows prank influencers Jax and Gene, who have been awarded a grant to make a feature film. The play follows the chaos of their creative process as characters slowly stray from sanity in their attempts to adapt Franz Kafka’s Metamorphosis into a one-woman motion picture. Locked in a three storey house, the script explores complex systems of rules, family dynamics, the hunger for perfection, and an attic full of possum shit.
The original script was witty, deeply funny, heart warming and often unexpected. Narev and Gottschalk should be commended on the multi-faceted nature of the characters they created, building an ensemble of individuals easily recognisable to a modern audience. Many of the script’s most tender moments occurred between Annabelle Hansen’s Judie and Beth Fuccilli’s Bev, where the writing touched on some of the difficulties of parenting, questioning to what extent we are all impacted by the choices our parents make. A standout writing and directorial moment in the first act came from an attempt by director-character Jax (played by Adelaide Hayes) to shoot the one-woman scene sequentially one line at a time. As the characters scrambled to perform quick changes, the comedic direction of Elizabeth Barnes’ Alison counting down by ones each time she switched personas had the audience dissolving into laughter.
While the script was excellent overall, it could have potentially benefited from further editing. The production — especially the first act — felt overlong at times. This length can be attributed to attempts to give too many characters tragic backstories, which were at times rushed, and lengthy duologues that could have been shortened or cut.
Turning now to the cast, both of our stand-out performances came from Fuccilli and Mischa Rippon as Bev and Graham, the loveable, stereotypical Aussie parents. The moment they stepped on stage they brought a refreshing lightness that cut through the length of Act One, being comedic, touching, and most importantly giving a sense of humanity to the show. The pair’s talent was further highlighted in the dramatic twist at the conclusion of the show, where despite blood pooling from his mouth Rippon, with stoic determination, refused to break character, whilst Fuccilli continued to movingly comfort her husband.
Paralleling their parents’ dynamics, the sibling duo of Hayes’ Jax and Callum Doherty’s Gene highlighted the range of these actors. In particular, Doherty’s raw, haunted expression at the end of Act Two silenced the audience. Another actor of note was Thomas Neil in his portrayal as the dorky, golden retriever boyfriend Dom who arguably had one of the more significant character developments throughout, emphasising Neil’s versatility as an actor. However other characters, like Pip and the Producer, felt a little rushed and underdeveloped.
An unconventional inclusion for this production was an original garment from Bridget Matison who created a one-of-a-kind cockroach inspired showgirl costume. This bold choice highlighted the eccentricity of the film being created, enhancing Barnes’ dramatic interpretation of Kafka’s Gregor as a cockroach. Additionally, the evening wear used for the award show scenes provided contrast to the otherwise ordinary costumes used throughout the rest of the show. Overall, the costume design led by Lara Connolly was cohesive and enhanced the portrayal of each of the characters.
The set for this production was exceptional. Credit must be given to set designer Katja Curtin and assistant set designer Grace Fletcher who managed to transform Kambri drama theatre into a convincing family home. There were two major sets, the first being the exterior of the house, with well-executed painting of black flats making the set look three-dimensional. The second set displayed the interior of the home, utilising a raised stage to highlight two of the three storeys. The set was further enhanced by the cohesion of the actors’ entrances and exits, at times circling behind the stage to illustrate the journey of travelling to the second floor. Furnished with effective props, this set is certainly a stand-out from the sets we have seen in Kambri this year.
Unfortunately, during the blackouts where set and numerous prop changes occurred the backstage crew moved at what felt like a glacial pace, with a lack of transition music, forcing the audience to hone in on the movements of the crew. Where the script was already long, this elongated the show further.
The lighting design by Jessica Peacock was effective, using spotlights and blackouts where necessary for the script. Whilst at times slightly delayed — Kambri lighting is notoriously unreliable — more creative lighting may have enhanced the script. An inclusion we might suggest would be varying the lighting when the camera was rolling to dramatically differentiate. Further, Genevieve Cox’s sound design was apt for purpose and well-timed.
Neither of us were quite prepared for the dramatic twist at the denouement of this production. All we can say from that ending for those who did not get to see the show is…remember to feed your dad. Overall, the show proved an immense success and we are excited to see what is next for the witty writing duo of Narev and Gottschalk.
Comments Off on ShakeSoc’s TIBB: Bitchin’ Teens in Togas and Romeo as a Sparkling Vampire
For those who have never experienced Then I’ll Be Brief (TIBB), it is essentially ShakeSoc’s annual Year 10 camp-vibe theatre show. Full of comical skits from your favourite Shakespeare plays alongside some original modern renditions, this production serves to highlight the range of ShakeSoc as a theatre society. This year’s show consisted of six skits each with their own director, with some extra ‘TIBB bits’ in-between.
One of our favourite skits was the ‘Julius Caesar Toga Party’ directed by Georgia Motto. Recontextualised in American Greek life, Motto took Shakespeare’s work and enhanced its comedy by introducing caricatures of the kind of college students we all love to hate. Leading the scene were seasoned ShakeSoc Treasurer Liat Granot and newcomer Zara Sheldrick-Aboud, whose comedic timing enhanced the raunchy nature of Shakespeare’s work. Motto’s witty decision to incorporate the well-known Gretchen Wieners monologue from ‘Mean Girls’ had the audience agreeing “We should totally just stab Caesar!”
Another scene that we and the audience enjoyed was ‘Hammy’ directed by India Kazakoff. Inspired by one of Shakespeare’s most famous works Hamlet, Kazakoff amplified the ridiculousness of Shakespeare’s plot as Hamlet attempts to cover up the murder of his prospective father-in-law. All actors in this scene stood out, and perhaps credit should again be given to Kazakoff for bringing out the best in her troupe of performers. Whilst difficult to single out a standout from this performance, James Phillips and Féy Etherington as the iconic duo Rosencrantz and Guildenstern utilised their bro-energy to captivate the audience.
When entering the theatre that night, the last thing on either of our bingo cards for this show was a Shakespeare inspired Twilight scene, but that was exactly what Olivia Hobbs delivered. Conflating modern star-crossed lovers Edward and Bella with Romeo and Juliet, Hobbs took the audience on a journey through all five books in the Twilight Saga, utilising a mix of traditional lines from Romeo and Juliet and dialogue from the cult-classic movies. Complete with Zac Mccutcheon’s glittery chest and Georgia Mcculloch’s awkward Kristen Stewart mannerisms, the pair sped through the fever dream that was the Twilight-era. What made this scene stand-out was perhaps its distinct differentiation from the other recontextualizations by truly taking creative liberty with the Bard’s work.
An entertaining feature of TIBB is the ‘TIBB bits,’ snappy parodies more similar to the types of skits you would see in a revue. From the three included in this year’s show, the ‘Leo’s Monologue’ starring Sheldrick-Aboud, making fun of DiCaprio’s penchant for younger women, and ‘Directors Cut’ on the seemingly endless Shakespeare adaptations in popular culture proved humorous inclusions. However the third skit, the ‘Rappeth Battle’, fell on deaf ears.
Both adaptations of Much Ado About Nothing were entertaining, providing laughs, but not especially memorable. TIBB’s inclusion of a short musical comedy ‘it was so…’ was the weakest of the night. The cast appeared disinterested and awkward while singing live, making it difficult to understand. Unfortunately, when choreography was introduced it did not elevate the skit, rather highlighting the lack of enthusiasm. Directors and the artistic director walked on stage from the audience to join the dance, an interesting choice that could have been better supplemented with some of the under-utilised cast.
Now to the crew. TIBB isn’t a show known for its flashy set or costumes. Instead, the scene changes rely on a basic stage fit for multiple purposes. When some simple set pieces were brought on stage, the crew at times were fumbling and seemed under-rehearsed. Similarly, the costumes are often singular pieces over the top of stage-blacks that, whilst indicating different characters, rarely add significantly to the show. But kudos can be given in this department for the spot-on representations of Bella Swan’s 2010s layered fashion and Edward’s sparkling chest immediately identifiable as a reference to the film.
On opening night, prior to the commencement of the show, artistic director Charlotte Harris made an announcement that technical issues with the lights had occurred. Consequently, there was an inability to remove a green hue from the stage. Keeping this in mind, the lighting design was a little simplistic — potentially due to further difficulties — leaving us wondering whether the scenes might have been enhanced by more creative lighting.
Sound design by Tom Lyle was technically proficient. During the scenes, the occasional sound bite made up for the lack of set, creating the appropriate atmosphere. Music in between skits whilst the crew moved set pieces had us bopping along in our seats, making the gaps between scenes feel significantly shorter.
Overall, this year’s TIBB proved an entertaining 90 minutes. Despite the highs and lows, the audience left the theatre amused by the creativity of the six directors. Possibly concluding with a remix of ‘I’m Just Ken’ as ‘I’m Just Dead’ was a misjudgement by the creative team, as we would have preferred to be left with the crowd-favourite Twilight scene.
ShakeSoc have concluded their first semester of shows on a high note, and we expect to see the tradition of TIBB continue on to a fourth year in 2025.
Comments Off on The Chemistry of Theatre: The Effect is more than just a placebo
National University Theatre Society’s (NUTS) production of The Effect, silenced the audience both during and after the show with its breathtaking illustration of the human experience in heightened circumstances.
Lucy Prebble’s The Effect follows two protagonists entering a four-week clinical antidepressant drug trial. The pair grapple with the nature of the trial, wondering if their sudden desires are true love or merely a side-effect of the drug.
The decision by Director Paris Scharkie to open the NUTS season with this heart wrenching drama was an inspired choice. Staged as a theatre-in-the-round, the audience was truly immersed, experiencing the highs and lows alongside Connie and Tristan. The simplistic technical proficiency of the show left the audience with questions about the efficacy of drug trials and whether emotions can be manipulated by chemical compounds propagated by pharmaceutical companies.
With only four members of the cast, there was nowhere to hide — especially considering they were on stage the entire time. Fortunately, there was no need. Eli Powles’ fast-paced and sharp Tristan brought the lighter moments, making the contrast in his moments of crisis more poignant. Tash Lyall’s Connie drove the story, with the highs and lows of her character truly showing her incredible range. A testament to the creative team and the pair, their chemistry could not have been questioned by the audience.
Just as Lyall’s performance showed her range, so too did Amy Gottschalk’s Dr Lorna James. Her astute clinical professionalism contrasted with a deep psychological turmoil brought the character to life, with her Act Two monologue reinforcing Gottschalk’s versatility. Another monologue that demonstrated the talent of this cast was the Ted Talk-style monologue of Isaac Sewak’s Toby Sealey. The sudden shift in pace provided a shining moment for Sealey, who was otherwise under-utilised.
The highlight of the show for both of us came at the end of Act 1. Scharkie’s direction coupled with Kathleen Kershaw’s movement coaching narrated its own story of a couple in the early-stages of love. Individual freeze-frames mixed with effective lighting and the chemistry of Powles and Lyall illustrated through movement the small-moments in a developing relationship. Ending Act 1 with this masterpiece meant the intermission allowed audiences a chance to sit with the dopamine produced alongside the uncomfortable knowledge the play was about to intensify. The return of the freeze-frames in the medical episode was another piece of brilliant direction, portraying the chaos of what was occurring. Utilising this directorial style in a drastically different situation complemented the earlier scene.
Despite the simplicity of the set, the utilisation of innovative lighting and technology transformed the often-barren space of Kambri Theatre into an immersive clinical experience. Watching Marty Kelly and Charlotte Harris’ lighting design it was evident that unlike many other shows, this design had been well thought through, with a clear understanding of the script, a testament to the amount of work that must have gone into this part of the show. Not only were standard overhead lights utilised, but also LED lights surrounding the stage, multiple projectors, a glowing tablet and two light-boxes sitting on the stage. The sheer amount of coordination that was required and went off without a hitch on opening night was masterful.
The only improvement that could have been made to this show was the sound design. Reading the program and hearing there would be an original score sparked our interest. Unfortunately, we were left slightly disappointed and unsure where the original score was. What sound was utilised didn’t often lessen the atmosphere of the show, but paled in comparison to the proficiency of the rest of the production.
Similarly, the costuming was simplistic yet effective. It did not detract and fitted its purpose for this show, however was not of particular note. Regardless, costuming was not a crucial part of this play, allowing the audience to focus on the raw performances of the actors, however, played its role in ensuring the character’s ease of movement.
As a theatre-in-the-round show, the stage was raised in the centre reinforcing the immersive experience. Rather than a stand-alone set, the cast utilised white wooden cubes to create the scenes. The seamless transitions of the movement of the blocks by the cast was both well-directed and well-rehearsed. Whilst limited props, those used were instrumental, with a highlight being the jellified brain dripping with goo.
Another area of improvement was the hanging and centring of the projectors at either end. In comparison to the rest of the well-done set, it looked tacky and rushed. Nonetheless, the projectors added small touches – such as the counting down from intermission and dosage sizes – reinforcing how well thought through this play was.
Overall, this did not feel like a show that had been put on in seven weeks. The attention to detail and overall collaborative effort helmed by Scharkie made it seem as though she had been working on this show for years. We attended opening night, which was not packed, and hope more people had the opportunity to see this incredible show — we know we certainly raved about it to friends. If this is how NUTS is opening their 2024 season, we are very excited to see their upcoming shows.
Rating 4.8/5
Comments Off on ShakeSoc’s “Macbeth” Makes a Bloody Splash in Kambri
Before we start this review we want to preface by saying we are not professional critics, so please don’t try and track us down. We are merely loyal ANU theatre enthusiasts who go to more shows than are healthy. Because of this addiction we have decided to review all of the student shows put on this year — from NUTS, to ShakeSoc, to MTC and college productions. We can’t wait to highlight the amazing talents of all the people involved in these shows in the reviews.
Macbeth is arguably one of Shakespeare’s most famous works, centring on deceit, ambition, power with a fair share of blood and gore. Shakespeare Society’s (ShakeSoc) production of the Scottish play — although it appeared the cast were confused about geography with their accents — proved an exciting choice to a packed opening night crowd.
What this play certainly was not lacking was ambition. ShakeSoc’s decision to stage Macbeth without re-contextualisation in roughly a seven week period proved a brave choice for the society and first-time director Natasha Ludlow. The choice of Macbeth was a production guaranteed to fill seats due to its popularity…and the trauma of year nine English. However, as the first of the 2024 season, this production failed to make as much of a bloody splash as it may have hoped. Where credit should be attributed, is to the tenacity of the directorial and production team in organising this show so early in the year.
While with humorous intentions the stabbing reference made during the introduction about looking to your left and right wondering who may have a knife left the audience uncomfortable. The joke felt in poor taste before the production had even started.
Matthew Wooding as the titular lead (pictured above) provided a stand-out performance, not only furthering the plot but providing a nuanced portrayal of the complex and often fraught Macbeth. Where a stellar performance by Wooding captivated the audience, unfortunately for Lara her Lady Macbeth was outshined by her counterpart. Lady Macbeth is well-known as one of Shakespeare’s most difficult female roles, and with the added pressure of a seven-week rehearsal schedule, Lara’s portrayal at times felt one-dimensional. Ultimately the pair’s chemistry aided both their depictions, with the scenes focused on the couple providing a sense of intimacy to the violent background of the play.
A personal standout in the cast came from Ash Telford as Banquo, whose ghost at the end of Act One left the audience gasping. Despite blood drooling from the mouth, Telford remained in character, providing a chilling portrayal haunting Macbeth and the audience long after the scene had concluded. A surprising standout scene came in the Second Act. Marcelle Brosnan’s Lady MacDuff alongside Marlon Cayley as her son showcased a different side of Shakespeare’s work, with a touching vulnerability accompanied by a maternal passion that provided a much needed refreshment to the latter half.
A hallmark of Macbeth remains the trio of witches. The choice to double-cast this production, whilst not unusual for ShakeSoc, proved ill-advised, with the decision to double-cast Lady Macbeth with a lead witch serving to confuse rather than enchant. Suspension of disbelief can only go so far, and despite both of us having read, studied, and watched the play prior, we found ourselves having to check the script at the conclusion of Act One. Perhaps a costume change could have justified the directorial choice, as where a witch remained crowned and in an evening gown, the production failed to convey a change in character.
Despite costume changes needed to underpin character shifts, the costume team consisting of Archie Church, Isabel Moller, Alana Flesser and Georgia, provided a clean look to the large ensemble. Colour blocking different pairs and groups dependent on the character was a nice touch, showing the team’s attention to detail.
Technically, Ella Ragless’ sound design created an occasional atmospheric ambiance to slower scenes, with the cast’s voices easily projected across the small theatre. The simple yet effective lighting done by Charlotte Harris and assistant Elinor Hudson showed a contrast between battle scenes, dinner parties and emotional soliloquies, adding excitement to the lack-lustre black set.
Walking into the theatre, the only set on the stage was a few pieces of dirty cloth hung limply from the black curtains and unfortunately the stage design rarely became more advanced than that. Whilst a simple set can be effective, watching the cast walk between sides of the stage between scenes and the door to backstage occasionally visible to the audience was an unwanted distraction. The one attempt at a major set piece in the feast scene regrettably did not go to plan on opening night, with stage crew having issues with the tables.
Overall, despite Macbeth being one of Shakespeare’s shorter works, this production proved too lengthy. Potentially the inclusion of more action and gore in the latter half may have re-captivated audience attention. Ultimately, ShakeSoc’s production could have made a bigger and bloodier splash into the 2024 season with the overall disjointed and rapidly put together production falling short of our high expectations.
All in all, the play set the tone for a dramatic season for ShakeSoc. We look forward to their next show Then I’ll Be Brief in Week 10.
Rating: 2.5/5 stars
Comments Off on An Official Ranking of (most of) ANU’s Student Theatre
Before I start this ranking-slash-review, I want to establish two things. A list before the list.
First of all, I’m not a theatre critic. I don’t have any professional qualifications. I’m just a guy who’s been to a lot of ANU theatre productions, so if you don’t like my ranking you can tell yourself I’m wrong and dumb and just don’t get the sacred art of the stage. Or send Woroni some anthrax in the mail, whatever makes you feel better.
Second of all, every one of these theatre productions were worth seeing. While I enjoyed some more than others, I have an incredible amount of respect for everyone involved. As somebody who got a solid 60 in high school drama, I can’t imagine all the work that goes into making these performances actually good, and definitely couldn’t do it better.
But not all art is created equal, and it is with a sort-of-heavy heart that I must rank (most of) this year’s ANU theatre productions. (Apologies to the Musical Theatre Company, I’m sure Grease was great.)
Away
Michael Gow’s Away follows three sets of parents and their high-school-aged children (or lack thereof, in the case of grieving Coral and Ray) as they embark on their summer holidays. It’s mercifully set in Australia, and therefore none of the actors speak with American accents. As you’re about to learn, bad American accents are an inexplicably common pitfall for ANU student theatre.
Mothers Vic (India Kazakoff), Gwen (Genevieve Cox) and Coral (Grace Fletcher) are standouts, especially Gwen and husband Jim (Eli Narev). Cox and Narev work so well together you’d believe they really have been unhappily married for decades. Their troubled connection with daughter Meg (Chloe Tyrell) made for some of the play’s most dramatic and moving moments. The play deals with some heavy themes – classism, terminal illness, grief – and the actors are talented enough to handle these themes with care, even bringing humour and light to the darkness.
The costuming (Tess McClintock) and hair and makeup (Zara Faroque) were show-stealing: Coral’s blue dress and Leonie’s (Lily Wilmott) green look deserve their own special mention.
However, despite a strong cast and excellent costuming, the play was a little slow. While some scenes would have you laughing or on the edge of your seat, others dragged. No disrespect to Michael Gow, but directors Maeve Ireland-Jones and Ellie Shafir could have been more ruthless in cutting down the script.
Accent ranking: No complaints.
Then I’ll Be Brief
For those who aren’t as dedicated to ANU theatre as I am, Then I’ll Be Brief (TIBB) is an annual show made up of scenes from various Shakespeare plays adapted, reimagined and reprised in whichever way their director chooses. For example, this year I was treated to a bogan version of King Lear (how dare Cordelia go off to ANU), A Midsummer Night’s Bush Doof, and a skit delivered alongside a video of Subway Surfers gameplay, for the iPad babies in the audience.
It’s hard for a show of snippets and skits to stand on its own against the full-length plays on this list, but TIBB is quick and funny. It feels like a bunch of theatre kids (complementary) having fun, and the audience is drawn into that fun too. The atmosphere is mostly light and silly, with songs like Something Rotten’s ‘God I Hate Shakespeare’ breaking up scenes of fratboy Sir John Falstaff and modern-day Merry Wives.
I say mostly, because there were one or two surprises. Macbeth’s final speech was performed Shakespeare-accurate and serious, except for the fact that Luke Lourey’s Macbeth was dressed like a character from the Matrix and the scene was lit like Upstairs Moose, for reasons unknown. I spent half the scene waiting for a punchline, but that’s the fun of TIBB: you never know what you’re going to get.
Accent: Good and normal.
The Taming of the Shrew
The fact that this is fourth is a testimony to the quality of the shows above it, because ShakeSoc’s The Taming of the Shrew was probably the funniest play I saw this year. It’s inexplicably set in the Wild West, which just means that the actors wear cowboy hats, say they’re from Reno, Nevada, instead of Pisa, Italy, and speak with a Southern drawl (more on the accents later).
The thing that really brings the humour of this centuries-old comedy to 21st-century ANU is the performance of the actors. Adam Gottschalk’s Tranio is fine-tuned right down to the facial expressions, and Annabelle Howard’s Baptista incorporates some impressive cane choreography. My personal favourite, however, was Jarrah Palethorpe’s brief but inspired performance as the random merchant pretending to be concerned-father Vincentio. There’s no way I can really describe this, except for saying it was like watching an alien in a human suit. I mean that as positively as possible: it was hilarious.
Now, onto the accents. They have their moments – there is something inherently comedic about country-and-western soliloquies – but the play is long and sparsely edited. The accents hamper the already-unwieldy Shakespearian, and at some points it’s difficult to understand what a character is even talking about.
This is most apparent in the ending. I’ll admit, before this my exposure to The Taming of the Shrew had begun and ended with 10 Things I Hate About You (1999). But I’m pretty sure in the original Shakespeare, the shrew, doesn’t walk her new husband offstage with a gun.
Maybe it was meant to be a feminist twist, but somewhere between the accent and her assumedly ironic speech about why women suck, the ending gets lost, and you’re left with a confused ‘good for her?’
Accent ranking: High highs and low lows.
Mr Burns
Anne Washburn’s Mr Burns, directed by Lachlan Houen and Isiah Prichard, is split into three sections, and there was no point at which I knew what was coming next.
It opens on a world without electricity a year after some vague apocalypse, where strangers bond over their attempts to recall a particular Simpsons episode. The tragedy of this situation was accompanied by the tragedy of my realisation that, once again, they were all going to be speaking with American accents.
The first section was a little slow, as you’d expect from a scene that is just people talking around a campfire, but there were genuinely poignant, painful moments. You watch each character’s hopes rise as they encounter a newcomer, and fall as they are told no, they haven’t seen their loved ones. Seven years go by, and these same characters are struggling together as a troupe of actors. Colleen (Natasha Lyall) and Quincy (Tess McClintock) are excellent additions, and Gibson’s (India Kazakoff) breakdown as the pressure of their dog-eat-dog world gets to him is a heartbreaking watch. It’s almost immediately followed by a post-apocalyptic Pitch Perfect-esque mashup, thanks to musical directors Lachlan Moulds and Paris Scharkie. You really never know what’s coming next.
The third section goes completely off the rails. The original cast is abandoned. Now the actual Simpsons – credit to costume designers Malachi Bayley and Natasha Ludlow for an excellent Marge hairpiece – are escaping on a riverboat in the middle of a storm. They’re escaping the titular Mr Burns (Thomas Neil), only this time he’s been combined with Heath Ledger’s Joker to create a villain whose monologues are sometimes ironically overwrought and evil, sometimes just a bit too long. At one point he starts rapping. He and Bart (Annabelle Hansen), who has the pluck and earnestness of a Victorian orphan, duel on the deck of the riverboat as the storm rages around them.
While all the actors were excellent, a special commendation has to go to Eli Powles and Liah Naidoo as Itchy and Scratchy, Mr Burns’ violent animal henchmen. It’s very easy to sit in the audience and write a snarky review where you whinge about accents. It’s undoubtedly much harder to screech and leap and scrabble across the stage dressed as animals. Lesser actors (or cowards like me) wouldn’t have committed as hard as they did, and their resulting performance was both hilarious and more than a little terrifying.
Accent ranking: Eh.
macbitches
macbitches takes place almost entirely inside a dorm room, where five female theatre students celebrate and commiserate after the casting of Macbeth. It explores the complicated, love-hate-respect-devotion-envy ambition dynamics between theatre kids. Watching it, you can’t help but wonder if ShakeSoc is self-reporting.
Trapped in just the one set, the tension builds throughout the play until it’s almost unbearable. You want to look away, but you can’t. Anisha Mujib and Hana Sawal carry this tension with good performances – one feels especially bad for Mujib’s Cam, pathetically in love with a girl who doesn’t seem to care about her – but the eyes-wide, car-crash feel of the play reaches its fever pitch thanks to Natasha Lyall, Winsome Oglivie and Lillia Bank.
Playing new freshman Hailey, who’s snatched the role from the more senior Rachel (Natasha Lyall), Bank nails the grating combination of wide-eyed naivete and constant humble-bragging, but it’s Lyall who steals the show. She is terrifying, stalking the stage, closing in on oblivious Hailey until one can’t help but think of a panther closing in on its prey. I don’t think I breathed during her fight with partner-in-crime Alexis (Winsome Oglivie), who has a sickening scream fit for a slasher movie – sort of what the play devolves into by the end.
But despite its gory twist, this play works so well because it’s grounded in reality. The set design creates a realistic, lived-in college dorm, with dialogue and references that refreshingly reflect how young people actually talk – with the exception of the accents.
macbitches is set in the US, and rather than trust us to suspend our disbelief and accept that these students at a vaguely-American college say words like ‘sophomore’ with an Australian accent, the cast all adopt American accents. It hampers what are otherwise excellent performances – some are strongest when they slip out of the accent altogether.
I saw macbitches with a group, and after we left one of the guys asked us whether this was actually what female friendships were like. The answer was a resounding yes. It’s a warped but strikingly accurate depiction of female group dynamics, as powerful love wars with powerful resentment.
But macbitches goes further than that. Though it’s an all-female cast, it points to the man behind the curtain. Would these women have been pushed to this depravity at all if there were more roles for them, if the roles were better, if they weren’t beaten down by constant dismissal and mistreatment? As director Caitlin Baker puts it, macbitches asks ‘whether the violence lies in the hands of the women we see onstage – or the men off it.’
Accent ranking: Wish they hadn’t.
The Lieutenant of Inishmore
This delightfully gory dark comedy has everything you could want from a play: disembodied torsos covered in blood, Toby Griffiths covered in blood, a stage covered in blood, and Irish accents that are actually good.
Martin McDonagh’s The Lieutenant of Inishmore (not to be confused with The Banshees of Inisherin or The Cripple of Inishmaan), brings levity to The Troubles, and in her director’s note, Liat Granot writes that cast and crew wanted to ‘[toe] the delicate line between humour and trauma’. While this production falls far more on the former than the latter, it was still an exceptional performance.
If you’ve reached the end of this review you might think I harp on about the accents, but I think here they’re emblematic of why The Lieutenant of Inishmore was so good: its attention to detail. Set and props designers Marty Kelly, Tali Backmann and Jamie Cardillo decked the Kambri Drama Theatre out with all the trimming of a typical Irish home, complete with the essential photo of Queen Elizabeth II (rip) with her eyes scribbled out and ‘die bitch die’ scrawled across her face. The stagehands crept and rolled commando-style across the set in balaclavas, like they were planting bombs rather than moving chairs. Costume designers Eleanor Cooper and Natasha Ludlow blessed/cursed Davey (Wyatt Raynal) with a painfully 90s mullet-hair piece-thing. This was obviously a performance with a great amount of thought and care put into it, at every level, and it really paid off.
Of course, a script making light of such a dark time in Irish history couldn’t have been carried through without an incredible cast. Adam Gottschalk is, again, excellent and hilarious with his equally funny IRA (or ILA?) lackeys (Paris Scharkie and Anna Kelly). Jamie Gray’s Donny and Raynal’s Davey play off each other like a standup duo who have toured together for several years – which they should consider if theatre doesn’t work out.
If you didn’t see this, you missed out. Raise a glass to the cast, crew, and an Ireland free.
Accent ranking: Derry Girls!
An earlier version of this article did not credit Marty Kelly as set and props designer for The Lieutenant of Inishmore.
Comments Off on All’s Funny in Love and Law: Reviewing Law Revue
Law students may be known for many things, but having a sense of humour isn’t usually one of them. Good thing then, that the majority of this year’s Law Revue cast are not law students. It seems that theatre kids from all over Canberra were drawn in by that sweet, sweet Blumers Personal Injury Lawyers money. The law students that did participate seemed to be the kind who study it in the hopes that it’ll make their arts degree more practical, because there were some serious skills on display at the Canberra Repertory Theatre. This year’s Law Revue was hilarious, highly-choreographed and fun as hell: it blew our minds.
17 people wrote the jokes for Law Revue and the directors and producers are proud to tell us that this year’s skit-writing sessions produced over 300 skits, more than ever before. Of these 300, only 48 made it into the show, leaving us very curious about the 252 left on the cutting room floor. We can only hope for a bloopers reel.
The skits varied throughout the show, from an opening skit about nudist yoga in a Coles to a quip about the High Court being a bunch of stoners. (Get it, because it’s the High…) The majority of the skits are clever, even when they’re not necessarily about clever topics. Comedy that is well-structured and effectively includes several punchlines is quite a trick to pull off, but one that Law Revue largely achieved.
Last year’s Law Revue – the 50th anniversary – was so successful it was performed again at the Canberra Comedy Festival. This extra performance gave this year’s directors, Fergus Wall and Layla Brady, an advantage heading into their own Law Revue. But, they admit, it also puts the pressure on. They recount how some of this year’s cast saw the CCF performance and immediately started talking about what they’d do differently when they performed at CCF next year. Having not seen last year’s revue, we are in no place to judge this year’s. But, a lot of the comedy of this revue was independent of ANU experiences, the kind that you would expect most people to laugh at. Avoiding inside jokes is impressive, however low-hanging fruit can still taste pretty good and one or two more jokes about the ANU wouldn’t have gone amiss.
The jokes that were ANU-related were good: Harry Harthog teaming up with the Peaky Blinders to run a textbook racket and a Kambri Side Quest, where two sleep-deprived students must follow a trail of clues to appease an eccentric wizard man. The latter, of course, featured a Pokemon-esque encounter with Socialist Alternative (not its actual members, who likely couldn’t get time off from all the flyering). This earned one of the loudest laughs from the audience, reflecting either that ANU students like jokes about themselves, or that there’s something funny about SAlt.
But honestly, calling any of these jokes low-hanging fruit is a disservice. Apart from the SAlt dig, which is basically mandatory for any university comedy, Law Revue is a masterclass in subverting expectations.
The best example of this – and our favourite skit of the show – was ‘A Census Act’. The ABS comes to visit a nice suburban family, and we all have a chuckle as the consultant husband declares he’d ‘prefer not to say’ his yearly income. Classic sleazy consultant stuff, right?
Wrong. It’s a robbery. The nice old ABS lady draws a gun, and when the husband and wife insist they’d ‘prefer not to say’ where they keep their household income, she asks them how many children they have.
“Three?”
She turns and shoots one of the children, right between the eyes. The gunshot is loud. The child falls to the floor.
“Try again!”
People laughed, people screamed. It was awesome.
But the talent doesn’t end at high-stakes ABS crime drama. Law Revue had a range of impressive musical numbers, complete with costumes and choreography.
We saw the performance on its opening night, when there are bound to be technical issues. Due to an audio mixing problem, the music was far louder than the lyrics. What we did hear was funny, but we didn’t hear a lot. We were also in the front row, near one of the speakers, which could also explain why the instruments drowned out nearly everything else. But credit must go to band director Ryan Yu and the musicians, because the music itself was good. Despite this, the numbers were fun and original, ranging from a Disney villain-esque song about plastic and car batteries polluting the ocean to a personal number about struggling with a UTI. This was just one of a few urine-related jokes at Law Revue, and while Woroni doesn’t condone kinkshaming, it was almost enough to raise questions about the writers’ personal lives and proclivities.
This revue quite possibly has the largest budget of any, coming in at around $18,000. The money appeared well-spent though, as pretty much every skit had costume changes and props. It certainly added to the range of the performance and while the actor must act, being in a different set of clothes certainly helps to further suspend disbelief.
Located in the Canberra Rep Theatre, the revue also took advantage of the more professional setting than the usual Kambri Theatre. A rotating stage floor was used for a slow-building skit on the invention of the Lazy Susan. It was a simple joke, but the physical gag of characters struggling with a rotating stage, and the build-up to the reveal was well-executed. The theatre also had an impressive lights display, but at times it appeared that the lights weren’t working as expected. There were a few times where actors had to find the spotlight rather than have it find them.
However, it is without a doubt the actors who make a performance, and the revue had a fantastic cast. Everyone thoroughly committed to the bit, and we always got the impression that movements and actions were planned and organised for maximum effect. Particular credit goes to Cody Williams for his indecently-exposing meditation class, and his performance as a swing voter who swings in more ways than one. Director Layla Brady was fantastic as well, especially in skits that required some serious drama to heighten the joke, and her solo performance of the original song ‘Dream Girl’ was a pop ballad to rival Olivia Rodrigo’s latest release (on Spotify when??). Not everyone can bring manic energy to a performance and remain funny and integrated with the show, but Matthew Campbell certainly could. However, as much as certain individuals stood out, every performance was genuinely fantastic.
Directing a revue seems like a daunting task. With everyone pitching in to write, no doubt people become attached to their skits, and if group work in class is anything to go by, sorting through feedback and considering alternatives is a challenge. Wall and Brady both acknowledged this, but added that the process goes two ways: they respect cast-members’ ideas, and cast-members respect that a decision must eventually be made. That trust evidently paid off.
Revues inhabit a real ecosystem at the ANU and at universities beyond. It’s a fun place to see students perform, and to participate in shared humour about things we’ve all experienced. Everyone is kitschy and low-budget and that is part of the joy. This one, though, went beyond that to something that felt like it would be funny for anyone. The comedy was well-structured, and what was likely a quick idea has been fleshed out and developed. Most skits were unified by the fact that they were unexpected, but fit seamlessly, to the point where the build-up is obvious only after the fact. It felt less like jokes written up by friends and peers, and more actual comedy. Who knows what qualifies you for the Canberra Comedy Festival, but this must be a big part of it. In short, all was funny in ANU Law Revue 2023.
Law students may be known for many things, but having a sense of humour isn’t usually one of them.
Comments Off on Women’s Revue: Everything, Everywhere, In 3 Hours
A review of a revue is a challenging thing, not only because it’s a mouthful to say. Watching students perform anything brings to mind my own anxiety of theatrical performance and a desire to know the regular lives of the actors who are probably more similar to me than either of us are to professionals. Add onto that the pressure of comedic performance which, because of the inherent awkwardness if it doesn’t land, makes you doubt the veracity of your own opinion, but it also leaves you wondering what to actually write about.
Sitting in the back row for the Friday night performance of the Women’s Revue, I gauged a lot of it from the audience reaction and so I think broadly it worked. This is to say, most skits received a plausible laugh and quite a few got a real cackle from groups. Only two sketches had anything questionable, but more on that later.
For the uninitiated, revues are put on by various extensions of student organisations, such as the Womens’ Revue, or the Law Revue. They are skit shows, and consist of a series of sketches which range, in this case, from the political, to the social, to the hyperlocal. The set itself is pared back out of necessity – it cannot change every five minutes – and props are limited to the essential wig, jacket or for this play, wand and rollerskates. Womens’ Revue, as acknowledged in the introductory song, is the first of the season, meaning this review must be taken with a grain of salt.
Revues are fun. They are the most fun if both the actors and audience lean into the kitchiness and the amateur aspects of it. Across the revue, the best performances were those where the actors were clearly enjoying the performance. As Directors Meg Dawkins (she/her) and Emma Tuckwell (she/her) put it, the “cast and writing team are the heart of the show” and I think this is what provides the eternal appeal of student theatre, that the audience, who can often relate to the cast, get to watch a group of people have fun for their entire performance. For instance, one overarching skit was that some regular skit was interrupted as soon as a character noticed any form of kilt or tartan pattern. The cast would then descend into chants of “For Scotland.” It’s the zany, wackiness that you find funniest only when you’re actually performing it, but the joy was contagious and it was this kind of kitchiness that I think the audience liked the most.
This revue had live music which is impressive for a number of reasons. Firstly, the trumpeter, Jess Hill (he/they) in the corner who also conducted the band must be commended. Having played the saxophone briefly in primary school, I can only imagine how difficult it is to both play an instrument and simultaneously coordinate the other musicians. Secondly, the live music underpinned a series of impressive and imaginative musical acts. Popular songs ranging from those famous on TikTok to the ‘Room Where It Happened’ from Hamilton were parodied successfully for several numbers. Not all were funny but I also don’t think they were intended to be, and the Directors were clear that aspects of the show are meant to be thought-provoking. Every one of them, though, worked, with lyrics to fit the tunes and no doubt there is some more musical theory to be unpacked there, but for the average watcher, I was thoroughly impressed. Apparently the songs were written collaboratively and thus are an achievement of the whole cast. Particular favourites was the sharehouse anthem to the tune of Frozen’s ‘Fixer Upper’ and ‘Can I Interest You in Centralism all of the Time?’
There is likely no perfect concoction of skits, but I noticed that those about the ANU prompted the most laughs. A Lighting McQueen skit about parking on campus, or about Mike who studies Computer Science replacing ChatGPT, did very well. Politics sketches will always be challenging, least of all because by the time a revue gets around to it, the ABC and social media will have thoroughly dissected the underlying material. However, a reference to Scomo shitting himself will probably never not be funny.
I would have enjoyed more jokes about the university experience, both because they were the funniest but also because this is the niche of a student comedic performance. Something about the unjustifiably confident bloke in a tutorial or Schmidt’s Tesla would not have gone awry. I imagine that there is pressure to always do something different from last year, but that was a year ago, and some audience members, like myself, are new to the scene. Oldies can still remain goldies.
The acting and singing were good. Comedy is always difficult to perform, as is an Irish accent which features in an early skit, and yet the cast did well at both. I did take a mild delight at deciding who clearly preferred the acting over the dancing and who was clearly there to sing, but being unable to personally do any of the three, I respect everyone’s commitment. Maddy McQuin (she/her) stood out to me as fully committing to each role and nailing the pantomime facial expressions as required.
At the most, I could only ever be consistently funny for five minutes or approximately 1,000 words. Three hours is a stretch for anyone, I feel, particularly if it starts at 7pm. I would baulk at a three hour play by professionals, and most stand-up routines go for around an hour and a half. It is, in short, probably too long.
I would like to make an aside about the quality of the audience. I yearn for the day we return to silent or near-silent viewing of films and plays. A group of people sitting next to us simply wouldn’t shut the fuck up. I don’t expect complete silence but one of them would, like a dog, loudly say “Ally” anytime a character said “Slay.” I’m as gay as the next doc-wearing, non-binary twink but Jesus did I want to hit a bitch. A similar thing happened when I saw Barbie recently and I believe it stems from being too saturated in social media’s incessant need for a joke every ten seconds.
In three hours of skits, there are bound to be some that don’t land perfectly. But, two skits wandered beyond the unsuccessful and towards the uncomfortable.
The revue had three skits about an ordinary person dating various Australian Prime Ministers after their time in office, which included Scott Morrison, Harold Holt and Julia Gillard. Gillard’s skit I fear became an odd moment of woman-bashing. She was characterised as a shrill, alcoholic woman and her famous misogyny speech was compared to a fight with what was implied to be an ex of sorts (bizarre, I know). The message was unclear to me, and fell into some deeply problematic tropes in the representation of Gillard, from her being an emotional, loud, complaining woman, to comparing Abbott to an annoying ex and not a misogynist who led the federal opposition and launched a campaign of vitriol and sexism that set female leaders back decades. Likewise, to liken Gillard to a stereotype about alcoholic middle-aged depressive women is both problematic and unjust. Gillard was no perfect leader and no perfect feminist, I am not defending her record here. But her misogyny speech was a groundbreaking moment in Australian politics and her success as Prime Minister was an important moment for feminism in Australia. That skit made all the wrong jokes. During the intermission, a stranger sitting next to us remarked unprompted about how the scene was simply “not it.”
I also think the revue would have benefitted with more Queer jokes, which is to say, it would have benefited from less of a focus on heterosexual issues and characters. One of my favourite skits was of two lesbian librarians using a series of literary double entendres to flirt, and the audience loved it too. Theatre has always been a Queer space, I believe both the cast and the audience would have found jokes about Queer dating funny and simple to write. Conversely, the skit in which two podcasting dude-bros confessed their homosexuality was confusing; a little more nuance would be needed to convince me that the joke was not the very fact that they are gay.
Comedy is challenging, and these two skits sit within dozens of others than landed well. It happens, and I would never attribute them to malice, but it must also be remarked upon. Overall, it was an amusing evening, with a clearly dedicated cast which the audience cannot help but enjoy.
A review of a revue is a challenging thing, not only because it’s a mouthful to say.
Comments Off on INTERVIEW WITH TEENAGE DADS – WORONI ARTIST SERIES
Rather than brave the chilly walk to Civic or the daunting descent down the stairs at one22, head out to Belconnen and enjoy the musical delight of something that isn’t a poorly done remix of Rush or Padam.
As part of our Artists Series, Woroni Content Editor Lizzie sat down with Teenage Dads to chat about life on tour, crowd culture, and the big scary P word (pop!).
Thank you guys so much for taking the time to chat with me.
That’s okay, we’re not doing much.
That’s surprising because you guys have been busy!
Yeah, I mean, we actually are doing certain things, getting ready for Splendour in the Grass, but the whole point of the next few days is to rest after our US run and then get ready for the festival.
Yeah, absolutely. So you guys have been touring all across Europe, are you guys excited to tour in Australia? Do you find it different to being on the road in Europe, versus you know, being on home turf?
Yeah everyone’s pretty different. It’s kinda weird…we skipped winter this year.
That’s one benefit I’d say. I feel like in our experiences so far overseas, overseas is just set up far better for touring. We were joking with Lime Cordiale a lot how you do a weekend in Australia, you would feel absolutely ruined. Whereas you do two weeks in the UK or Europe and you’ll be fine.
Why is that?
I think partly the distance stuff but also, you don’t really have to fly anywhere. I think the whole process of finishing a gig in Australia, you go to the hotel room, you sleep for a couple of hours, get up, airport, fly, and just that whole process kills you.
Whereas you can just take trains and stuff around Europe and it’s much quicker, much easier on your bodies, I guess?
Yeah. It’s just that’s the way it’s kind of felt anyway, but we’re still really looking forward to being back home. I think it’ll give us a new perspective.
The water is better in Australia.
That I don’t doubt. What are the crowds like over there? Are they different to your home base fans here, who maybe have known you guys for a while?
It’s a little bit different, in different areas the crowd is more cool than other areas, and some places are more inclined to dance and sing, and some places it’s more of like a ‘hands on hips, just watch’. But I feel like people still will come up everywhere and say how much they enjoyed the set. It’s just very, very different in some areas, people don’t show it during the set as much.
I imagined in Australia crowds kind of go a bit more wild. But that might be a stereotype.
I think the big part of it, particularly for us, is you kind of just can’t really compare the two just yet because, like you said we’re an Australian band and we played in Australia for years. So people kind of definitely know who we are, so there’s a more likely chance of fans being really big fans. Whereas overseas they’re seeing us or hearing us for the first time, so they’re not going to be absolutely losing their mind or anything like that.
Having said that, Dublin particularly popped off. They’re really loose people there.
Maybe they have something in the water?
Yeah or just the Guinness, maybe.
All those sorts of cultural differences, like when we did the first Dublin gig, instead of a one more song chant they’ve got “Olé, Olé, Olé!”.
You never get that here. Then you get the odd Australian that’s there being a dickhead going “Aussie, Aussie, Aussie!”
That’s so good. Maybe for some of our readers who aren’t super familiar with your stuff, how would you guys describe your sound to our readers and listeners?
Do we get like, ‘describe your sound in three words or less’?
I’ll be generous. I’ll give you five.
Too many!
2
First word is alright. Yeah. Alright .
Allright…Let me see. That’s four!
What’s the closer?
Rock! Indie rock. We just tell everybody it’s indie rock, indie pop.
I was in a record store the other day in Toronto. It was massive and I was just looking at the way they categorise things. Most of the bands and artists that I listen to were all in indie pop. So I was kinda like,’ all right, I can see us being in the indie pop category, if that’s what this classifies’.
For ages we were scared of those words, we’d go, “yeah, we’re a psychedelic rock band”. You didn’t want to use the word pop, or indie.
I would say we probably describe our band more so now as not psychedelic. Just to kind of really reaffirm that we don’t think that’s what we are. Maybe to all the Woroni readers out there: Teenage Dads are not a psychedelic band!
And they’re not a surf band!
If you guys could have your way, no strings attached, no limits, who would you love to go on tour with, supporting?
Abba! If they’re free…probably hit them up.
Queen. That would be a good one. Kinda sick.
Prodigy.
Dolly Parton.
Dolly Parton would be sick, do you think her fans would like your stuff?
I think Dolly and I would really get along well.
That’s all that matters.
So true, it’s about the vibes. Great answer. If you guys were to make it really big, which I feel is not too far off, who would you bring on tour to support you, what upcoming artists?
There’s a really cool indie folk artist in Nashville…. Dolly Parton?
Um….. that’s tough.
Let’s plug all the bands that are supporting us on the next tour. We’ve got the Moving Stills, Death by Denim, Betty Taylor, Aleksiah, Siena Rebelo, Bocce in Tassie. I think that’s everyone! It’s always really cool picking support, sometimes you want to… you feel like you need to do it on a strategic basis to help pull more people to the tour and that sort of thing. But it’s also just really fun if you can set that aside and bring your friends along
So what’s next for you guys? I mean, I’m sure you’re exhausted and this is the last thing you want to think about, but the people want to know – are you thinking about another album, less touring, a break maybe? What are you feeling?
We’ve got a new song that we just got back from a master, but apart from that nothing’s really ready to go.
Yeah on the music front, we are working away, but we don’t know when things will be… we don’t have much information to divulge…
That’s all right. Keep your secrets.
We do have this big Australian tour coming up, which will, I think, bring us to nearly 100 shows this year, which will warrant some rest. We don’t have a whole lot planned for the November/ December period, but who knows, things might pop up.
Sounds like you guys are overdue for a little vacation.
Want to stay on campus? Check out the Kambri website to get tickets performances like the DMAs and Safia!
Interview with Teenage Dads – Woroni Artists Series. Live Show at University of Canberra Saturday August 12.
In his desire to maximise efficiency within the prison system with minimal guards, Jeremy Bentham settled on a structure that he would call the ‘Panopticon’. A central tower of guards surrounded by a ring of prison cells facing inwards, Bentham argues that prisoners begin to discipline themselves under the idea that someone could always be watching – to the point where the guards needn’t be. Over time, what was simply a model of efficient prison management, has become a symbol for the never-ending expansion of infinite measures of social control. In the same way that you stop at a red light even when no one is around, society has normalised these mechanisms of self-regulation that you don’t even notice you’ve made a habit of.
Whilst some look more prison shaped than others (sorry Ursies), it’s hard to ignore the similarities between Bentham’s panopticon and the social dynamics of living at college. There are very few other scenarios in life in which you will live in a fun little Soviet-esque commune of 300+ people all within 100 metres of one another. It’s almost a given, then, that you begin to make observations about the people that you see everyday. First, you’re intentionally trying to learn more about them, then you’re naturally picking up what they talk about and how they do it. It slowly becomes more personal as you learn their mannerisms and quirks, until all of a sudden, you’re an expert at reading their body language even if you didn’t intend to be. College forces you to speed-run relationships.
This has its benefits. I know Jess is having a bad day if she turns down an offer for tea in the dining hall; I know Harry has classes all day Tuesday because that’s the day he’s not at lunch. But it also presents its own very unique set of disadvantages. The eventual realisation of how well you can understand the people around you leads to the inevitable conclusion that those people are also seeing you under the very same spotlight. The knowledge that at any one point, someone can understand or recognise you in ways that may forever remain unknown to you is terrifying. This is only compounded by how fast information can travel – share good news with your best friend – people you’ve never talked to before will be congratulating you at dinner. Share bad news…you get the picture. Hyper surveillance is puppeteering our interactions in a way that means all our conversations revolve around each other.
This keen awareness of just how perceived I am at any one moment has made me feel as if I have to be a perfect version of myself every time I open my door. I’ve become a person that almost demands others to know how put together I am. I portray a version of myself that I hope will be the most interesting and entertaining to those that are watching me and reflect favourably upon me as it inevitably gets passed down the gossip chain – if I slip up, the guards will notice. In an environment in which everyone is acutely aware of what everyone says and does at any moment, I’m determined to make sure people only see the version of myself that I want to put out there. Because if I do that, then I’m beating the panopticon, right? I need to have total control over the narrative people have about me, because now that I’ve gotten ahead of it, I can make sure it’s only the good stuff. Right?
I worry about what this surveillance is doing to me. Am I just tolerating it, or have I begun to ask for it?
I lap up the attention as I walk to work in my brand-new corporate chic attire (I intentionally loitered around at breakfast so people could see how responsible I looked). I mock TikToks of people videoing themselves doing good deeds (I hope that none of mine go unnoticed). It could be easy to throw away the real weight this Orwellian lifestyle can have on you, file it under “exhibits narcissistic tendencies” and move back onto gossiping about other people. Yet I can’t help but worry about the way this mask I’m wearing might become permanently welded to my face. More importantly, I don’t know what’s scarier – the thought that my friends can’t see through it, or that they can.
In the never-ending performance that is living at college, how is anyone supposed to feel seen when we’re made to enjoy the ordeal of keeping up appearances? I want to feel as if my relationships with the people around me mean something – like they know me – but how can I ever be sure? How can I be sure what knowing me even looks like? College is a perpetual balancing act of attempting to put on your best performance of yourself, whilst also wanting to maintain some semblance of authenticity. Are we all just patchwork caricatures of the traits we think people will find the most interesting about us? Isn’t there, too, some sincerity in that.