Double Blind

Double Blind, dancer and choreographer Stephanie Lake's inaugural piece for Stephanie Lake Company had its Melbourne season last week on the back of a stupendous Sydney run as part of the Sydney Festival. I'd been following crowd funding efforts and rehearsal updates across Facebook and clicked through to some pretty excited reviews.

The title Double Blind alludes to the now infamous social psychology experiments conducted in the USA in the 1960s that explored obedience in test subjects. Knowing this ahead of the show made me a little apprehensive, anticipating as I was some formal investigation into pain, terror and possibly science lab sadism. It is only heightened by the sight of composer Robin Fox – himself a formidable presence – guru-like at the side of the stage at the ready at the deck.

Apparently stress levels are higher waiting to get on a roller coaster than when you are actually hurtling through the air. Waiting for Double Blind to start I could relate to that piece of research. It opens with Fox's digital sound manipulations – a series of rhythmically varied and unpredictable pulsating bleeps  – that animate the still dancers who move, investigate and respond to the space and one another. The sonic intensity is electric.

I was totally absorbed by the dynamics between the four on stage: Alana Everett, Alisdair Macindoe, Amber Haines and Kyle Page following their every movement in sequences that were richly varied.
The phrases and gestures oscillated between human and machinic registers, shifts that complicated agency in curious ways. I wondered more than once, who or what is in control?  Harriet Oxley's costumes reiterate the institutional flavour: uniform in colour, gendered, with an open slit at the back much like a very refined hospital gown.

If it sounds a bit  menacing it's not. Lake, a keen observer of people, has a wry sense of humour. It is a work that is well modulated, drawing on a range of techniques: calling on the audience to participate at times, deploying props to great effect and, in one hilarious moment, dialogue.

Double Blind's investigation into manipulation and experimentation circles around trust, disclosure, pleasure, curiosity and limits. As the performance progressed I became increasingly aware of the physical demands of the piece, the dancers total exhaustion, plain for all to see. I was most moved by this, on reflection. Lake seems to have something to say about limits, of what happens to us when we are taken there: vulnerability, defencelessness,  surrender. I received it as a disturbing gift.

Open the door: Noah Baumbach's When We're Young

Noah Baumbach's new feature, When We're Young, opens with a quote from one of Norwegian playwright Henrik Ibsen's plays from turn of the century – that would be the 20th century. It carries the age-old sentiment of a middle aged generation not understanding the one that follows it. In it the sceptic is urged to "Open the door" on the young. I was left wondering about this piece of advice after leaving the cinema. Was it a really such a good idea? Judging by the film – a wry intergenerational satire – I wasn't so sure. It starts out promisingly. Josh, a documentary filmmaker is approached by the twenty-something Jamie (Girls' Adam Driver) after delivering a lecture on documentary film and quickly initiates a friendship based on his admiration for Josh's rarely screened documentary. Jamie introduces Josh to his wife, the ravishing Amanda Seyfried, and along with Josh's wife, Cornelia (Naomi Watts) they become inseparable. Baumbach captures the romance of new friendships as the pairs borrow mannerisms, style tips and ideas from one another. There's no doubt Josh and Cornelia are enlivened by the relationship. It comes at a critical juncture; Cornelia is making peace with being childless as their best friend's adjust to life with a newborn. Josh is at a creative impasse after a decade working on his documentary about war and the American "system". His rough cut sits at six hours. He's not sure he can cut anything out. But what do newlyweds Jamie and Darcy get from the arrangement? While the older couple envy the young pairs energy and openness, Jamie most certainly covets Josh's ready-made life that includes a well connected film producer wife. I don't think its any kind of spoiler to say it ends in tears. Adam Driver is a terrific foil for Ben Stiller, the difference in height, already comedic. Driver brings a physical expansiveness to the role that sits well beside Stiller's contained presence. The film belongs to them. It's not simply a matter of performance. Baumbach fleshes these characters out. The climax – played out at a swanky award ceremony overlooking Manhattan – is between these two and about the nature of documentary. When it comes down to it Josh and Jamie are fundamentally different. Baumbach you feel sides with the principled Josh while making it clear that success comes to the Jamie's of this world. When We're Young finishes on a cute upbeat note. I was thankful for it but it was not enough to offset the swirl of conflicted emotions inside of me or the sense that middle age is a shit sandwich and, all things considered, I would still prefer to be young and feckless than old and weary. 

Holidays

We rolled back into town yesterday afternoon after a week on the New South Wales coast. What is there to say about holidays, other than they are delicious. Even travelling single-mum style 1500 km was no bother – actually that is a slight exaggeration – I'm getting a few flashbacks as I type. The secret to my success? Spend a small fortune on bad snacks and stock up on kids magazines. In many respects it was like an old fashioned meet, with family members travelling to the seaside town of Tathra from interstate and overseas. We rented two places, a flash house overlooking the Ocean and a unit in the flatlands to accommodate the large numbers. Between breakfast cook-ups and sit down dinners we played cards, checkers, passed around Fifty Shades of Grey and splashed around in the pool nursing cold drinks of the G&T variety. Possibly because we arrived here as refugees, my parents always emphasized the importance of family. But we were also raised in an atmosphere of crisis. If we had a story it was this: we could come together in times of crisis. Given this template it was a wholly new experience to, you know,  gather and have a regular good time. I loved every minute of it except the ten minute breakdown on the last night when I lost patience with the monkeys and locked myself in the bathroom yelling through tears Go To Sleep. (Sleep was hard to come by in the flash house; the owners were too cool for curtains).

It's hard to know sometimes whether literature shapes the world or the other way around. Every now and again I had a sense of de-ja-vu like I was in a play, a Hannie Rayson or Joanna Murray Smith play and I was on the MTC stage. I mean, there was copious alcohol, a family meeting where words like power of attorney were uttered and on the last day a car accident involving a kangaroo. Real aussie drama.

Illustration: Two-headed monster by Otto.

Cavalia

I am not sure how word reached me that Cavalia was going to be a once in a lifetime not-to-be-missed theatrical event. It must have been a trusted source, not from my actual circle, most likely one of my celebrity friends. Walking the boardwalk to Docklands, I saw a banner with a horses eye and a quote from US late night host, Letterman or Leno or whoever describing it as the single greatest performance they had attended. With that hyperbole, and an awareness that it was the co-founder of Circ de Soliel at the helm, you could say I had some preconceived notions of what I was getting in for. I knew their would be majestic horses, and by the bit of buzz that reached my ears, spectacular showmanship.  I would not describe myself as a 'horse' person. You either are or you're not, if you are, most likely you are nodding your head vigorously right now. But I am a curious person and keen to facilitate memorable experiences for my eight year old and with a couple of freebie tickets I was feeling pretty upbeat.

Fifty one horses from a dozen different breeds. More than 20 performers. Had I checked the website I would have learned I was about to witness 'a symphony of colours and emotions, the central theme of which is the beauty and magnificence of our four legged artists' or to break it down in layman terms: horses, performers, live music and multimedia.

And it was spectacular, really. Mist (or was that a smoke machine?) covering the sandy stage, snow drifting down from the heavens (cleaning fluid pumping out bubbles). Skilled horse-men and women on horse back, standing, dancing, sitting, leaping and hanging upside down from the horses. Occasionally they were joined by performers on aerial wires, taking the action into the sky. In an effort to modulate the experience – the sequences, not exactly narratives, more like fragments built on setting, sound, costume and lighting –  would shift in tempo. On slow setting, a strong fantasy element emerged. Maidens with flowing hair, flowing silk gowns, leather bodices like they'd wandered out of  Sherwood forest. Everyone on horseback had long flowing hair. In the high tempo sections the mood was a bit tougher. Burning man tough. In row D I had the opportunity to study the hair. I saw a lot of hair extensions and dreadlocks. In these sequences the horse whisperers wore crushed velvet, pendants and cuffs.

During intermission I looked around for Kath & Kim. This mix of hippy bogan would have been right up their alley. Am I being a snob? It's true, I've been raised on Melbourne International Festival theatre productions. This was something else, believe me.