Now in its 10th year, the Storytime Ballet series continues to provide quality holiday entertainment with intimate, 50-minute versions of classic ballets. This time it’s the spangled charms of Marius Petipa’s The Sleeping Beauty in David McAllister’s compact adaptation.
The small ensemble performed very prettily on Thursday, led by Grace Campbell as Princess Aurora and Zoe Horn as the Lilac Fairy. Lucas McLean was the Prince. All three are students at the Australian Ballet School, as are Molly Bell, Eliza Hickey and Madeline Flood.
The more experienced cast members include Chantelle van der Hoek and Elena Salerno, both part of The Australian Ballet’s education team. Van der Hoek, who I last saw as a selfish stepsister in Cinderella, provided plenty of mischievous fun as the angry fairy Carabosse.
Sean McGrath was once again the narrator, a role he created in 2015. He knows where to find the humour in McAllister’s script and how to fill the gaps between the sparkly solos. Most importantly, he can hold the attention of an audience of rowdy youngsters.
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There’s not a lot of slapstick in this production, but what little there is goes a long way. McGrath’s sprawling attempt at a courtly reverence – the deep bow of gratitude performed at the end of a ballet – had kids and adults alike in stitches.
There’s also a fair bit of interactive “look behind you” business, even though this isn’t a pantomime. Like other ballets in the Storytime series, the aim of this show is to introduce children to the conventions of storybook ballet, like the use of mime and when to applaud.
The Sleeping Beauty is the perfect vehicle for such a project because Pepita’s fairytale can have a weird – and somewhat disconcerting – influence on the very young. Wasn’t it his production of The Sleeping Beauty that first captivated an eight-year-old Anna Pavlova, leading to her career in dance?
In any case, this production also aims to expose aspiring ballerinas and ballerinos to some serious dancing, offering clear and direct demonstrations of the values inherent in classical ballet.
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It all runs very nimbly and is well-fitted to the Comedy Theatre stage. The sets and costumes, recycled from an older full-length production, are as garishly vibrant as one might expect for a show aimed at children armed with flickering, battery-powered wands.
The excerpts from Tchaikovsky’s lyrical score are performed in the fine recording by Orchestra Victoria, conducted by Nicolette Fraillon.
Reviewed by Andrew Fuhrmann
MUSICAL
Bearded ★★★
Theatre Works, until January 18
This new queer musical bursts out of the closet in a whirlwind of colour, song and dance. It’s such a bright and bustling affair, there’s a hint of Dorothy arriving in Munchkin Land about it, although the show also returns us to a grey and vexatious time for the rainbow community.
Set in 2017 during Australia’s marriage equality debate, Bearded follows two queer teenagers, Ace (Sean Donehue) and Bet (Bek Schilling), as they navigate coming out. It can be nerve-racking process at the best of times, but for Bet, there’s the added complication of her dad Richard (Anton Berezin), a socially conservative politician who’s running for office on (cough) “traditional family values”.
The last thing he wants is his daughter revealing she’s a lesbian in the middle of an election campaign. So poor Bet is dragooned into photo ops and campaign events, alongside her mum Janet (Michelle Fitzmaurice) and Hailey (Belle Parkinson), to put on a public display of happy heteronormative domesticity.
It’s a stressful and depressing mask to maintain – especially as Bet is finally ready to date her first crush, Kelly (Charlyi Jaz), and has banded together with school friends to support same-sex marriage.
When her closeted gay bestie Ace agrees to act as Bet’s beard and pretend to be her boyfriend in public, family secrets and adolescent sexual awakening collide on the road to queer liberation.
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Creating and staging a full-length original musical is a huge undertaking, and Bearded is a talented stab at it. Some of it seems a touch derivative – a plot with similarities to La Cage aux Folles, worked into the angst and enthusiasm of teen coming-of-age musicals such as Hairspray or Dear Evan Hansen – but there are some wonderful numbers.
The quartet Family Matters has a musical and dramatic synergy that compels attention, and the climax – from Bet’s rousing coming out song Storm to the defiant pride of the finale Queer as Fuck!, will leave audiences on a high.
The production sports dynamic ensemble choreography and group vocals; a set festooned with conservative corflutes and rainbow bunting (with a few surprises to divert the eye); and a vibrant live orchestra.
More comedy wouldn’t hurt, and the suffering caused by homophobia could be more deeply elaborated. (Bet’s mum needs deeper characterisation if the happy ending isn’t to seem contrived, for instance.)
Perhaps the biggest annoyance is the venue’s challenging acoustics, which leaves some vocals barely audible over the music, but this all-singing, all-dancing indie musical has legs. It’s a fun night of queer pride as Melbourne heads into the Midsumma festival.
Reviewed by Cameron Woodhead
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