The Kalk Bay Theatre | Megan's Head

Real Rose

On July 15, 2011

When all is said and done, it is absolutely blatantly obvious when a piece of theatre or storytelling is amazing. Rose, written by Martin Sherman and performed by Fiona York at The Kalk Bay Theatre is just that; a performance that crept up on me (it had time to; it was two hours long) and had me sobbing and sniffing onto my sleeves again.

On a wooden bench (she is sitting shiva), Rose tells the extraordinary story of her life; a Jewish peasant girl growing up in a village in the Ukraine where she feels like she doesn’t belong, to her escape as a young girl to meet up with her brother in Warsaw. She tells of her time during the war, in the Ghetto, her rescue and final convoluted trip to Palestine that ended up in America, with a second husband, and the feisty creation of an interesting, unusual life.

Punctuated with delicious humour, strange little details, and of course the terrible facts that Rose has trouble ‘remembering’, this is an engrossing story told absolutely brilliantly.

Again, I wasn’t sure about whether I was going to like this one. At the heart of the tale sits a Jewish holocaust survivor story. As I have said before, been there done that. But the character of Rose navigates an original take on this, making its horrors fresh and personal. I was also uncomfortable about how the whole Palestine/Israel issue would be handled. It is no secret that I have very strong anti-Israel occupation of Palestine feelings. Well, I don’t want to give the story away, but this was for me the most moving, tragic and brilliantly resolved moment of the whole thing.

Rose sneaks up on you, and her mannerisms, cowardice. quirks, bravery and foibles become totally endearing. You want a happy life for her, but what you get is a real life, told in the simplest, truest way.

It is always interesting for me when somebody who isn’t Jewish plays someone who is. It is an interesting debate. It’s not like a specifically black character. There is the issue of colour. It wouldn’t be believed. But can you tell whether someone is Jewish? Fiona York does a brilliant job because she plays the person, not the characteristics. I had one or two moments where I found her accent a bit weird, and her pronunciation of chuppah made the u sound like ‘cup’ instead of ‘hoop’, but I am nitpicking as only a Jewish somebody could. (If my fingers weren’t typing they would be making hand gestures.)

If I could be like Fiona York when I am in my later years I would be so happy. I aspire to be her, and do her kind of work.

PS. It is going to be so, so interesting to see if this production is accepted by the Jewish grapevine here in Cape Town. Of course it should, but will it be politically challenging?

Improv Love Story

By megan

On June 8, 2011

In Cape Town, inspiration, me on stage, theatre stuff

I am deeply in love with improv at the moment. I am loving shooting my little improvised monologues, and I am re-thrilled at being part of the amazing TheatreSports company, and playing most Monday and Tuesday nights. The last two nights have been particularly special, with two farewell performances for Brett, one of our TheatreSports stalwarts. Brett and TBV (his wife) are off to live and work and minister in Philadelphia for some time. So, the last two shows have been his last two for a while and it just so happens that they have been total winners; brilliantly energetic, creative, generous, hilarious, warm and infectious.

You should come and check us out one of these days; Mondays at The Intimate and Tuesdays at The Kalk Bay Theatre. Call Ryan on 0729393351 to book.

What’s in My Bad Mood?

By megan

On April 15, 2011

In Cape Town, complaints dept, show reviews

I have woken up with a rage hangover this morning. I am still fuming about my night last night and I am not really sure where to even begin.

Let’s go with why I was motivated to start meganshead in the first place. I wanted to warn Capetonians about bad theatre (and cheer them on to see good stuff, it must be said). Now this one is particularly hard for me because of how I feel about The Kalk Bay Theatre. It is categorically my favourite theatre in Cape Town. It is independent, beautiful, brilliantly managed. It is where I love to see theatre and make theatre. I want the theatre to do brilliantly.

But now I need to say what I feel about the first half of the show that opened there last night, “What’s In a Name?”. And here is a warning; if you loved it, do not read further, because I am going to be saying some very harsh stuff.

Right up front, I was absolutely relieved to discover that there were two halves. This meant I could leave at interval without making a spectacle of myself. Everything I say will only be about the first hellish forty or so minutes, but I swear it is enough.

What’s In a Name is trying to be a cabaret(?) performed by Delray Burns and Roland Perold and directed by Garth Tavares, and apparently choreographed(?) by Delray. What it actually is is a completely random collection of ‘trying to be funny’ songs that have nothing to do with anything, including the meaningless title of the show. What it is trying to be is a showcase for two young performers (like a live showreel to offer what they can do), but what it becomes is a beyond irritating, badly sung, horribly characterised, cartoon version of itself. Hell on an audience, not in the least funny, and so badly done I was squirming in my love seat in the back row. Fifty Delray costume changes later (a light up bra being the only highlight, ‘scuse the pun), a hideous “lights up” audience participation section where I could not hide my disgust in the dark, a complete mafferation of two songs I usually think are quite clever, Henry Higgins from My Fair Lady and Coward’s Don’t Put Your Daughter on the Stage Mrs Worthington, and other tragic, inconsequential, murderously bad versions of other stuff (including Snoopy I think!), meant I had to escape.

I feel I need to explain here. I concede that there is often stuff that is “not my cup of tea”. I don’t get big, mainstream musicals. Yet, I can totally appreciate them (and have even loved one or two) when they are well done. It is true that a collection of random show tunes is not that cup of tea that I would choose to drink, but I am entirely capable of drinking it, and enjoying it, if it is just warm, sweet and well made. “What’s In a Name?” is not that cup.

I am going to lose friends here. Brand new followers of meganshead on twitter are going to be upset. Friends of the performers in the audience last night were “loving” the show, and even tweeted me about it. I am going to be branded a bitch. I am going to set myself up for the harshest criticism of my own work. I wrestled with whether I was going to do this at all. But when I woke up at the crack of dawn this morning and saw what a friend had inboxed me on facebook, and realised she felt the same, I felt I had to speak out. Sies. What’s In a Name? In this case, absolutely zero, zip, niks.

Then, on my drive home (just to put salt in my wounds) I happened to flick the radio on to 567. The minute I realised it was Kieno Kammies I should have switched to 5fm for some retarded pop, but I was negotiating Boyes Drive and didn’t change in time. The moron was introducing what was going to be his late night topic; a ‘scientific’ study where caged monkeys are going to be fattened up so said scientists can study obesity. Kieno thought this was a great idea because, and I quote, “have you seen the fat kids rolling around the lawns?”. I. Kid. You. Not. Kieno Kammies thinks that caging and force feeding monkeys (natural omnivores quite capable of maintaining their own healthy weight) and fattening them up is going to help us understand why children are obese. Maybe Kieno, they are obese because they are caged, overfed (usually with unhealthy processed crap that monkeys would never eat) by their parents, bored and under-exercised? I actually could not listen to him for one second more. I had fantasies of finding images of his own children, hoping they were as fat as houses, and then using them in my own experiments. The drive home from KBT is long when you are having these murderous thoughts while listening to Rehane singing …”sticks and stones will hurt my bones, but whips and chains excite me” as if she wrote those lines herself! Bah. Humbug.

The Deep Red Sea

By megan

On April 12, 2011

In Cape Town, deeply personal, inspiration, me on stage, theatre stuff, writing

There is something magnificent about ‘birthing’ a collaboration, a co-creation. I started writing The Deep Red Sea almost five years ago. I had been told the story by a friend. It was a true story, that had happened to her friend. I immediately knew that I wanted to do something with it but I had no idea what. And one day, while walking the dogs, I just knew how it needed to be written down. It took ages to finish. I handed the completed writing around and got mixed responses. It was too long. It was too short. It should become a movie. It was too verbose. It was undefinable. I also had my own mixed responses to it because, now that it was written down, I didn’t know how it was going to become the thing that it needed to be, or even what that thing was. Was it a movie? Was it a voice recorded story (I even tried that out)? Was it a puppet show? I kept on having the feeling that it had a “mixed media” feeling to it, but I didn’t know what I was meaning.

Then I went to vaun cornell‘s exhibition of paintings. As I walked in there was a movie playing on the wall, and I felt deeply connected to it. It was vaun in the act of making a painting, as if she was the voice and character of The Deep Red Sea. She was doing the action, the job, the calling of the person in exactly the way I envisaged it.

I took her the story the next day. We are two somebodies who do things in a hurry and so we wanted to do this thing. But that’s not really how it works.

I don’t know how long ago that was, but suddenly it is falling into place and we are going to try it out. On Sunday 8 May we are doing The Deep Red Sea. It will be me, reading the story. It will be vaun’s paintings during the story, and her paintings in the venue. It will be Sigrun Paschke making music and sounds, and Nica Cornell doing everything else we need, like lights and tech and advice. It will be a gathering.

So, the details are Sunday 8 May. R70 a ticket. Doors open at 1830 and the ‘show’ starts at 1930. It’s at The Kalk Bay Theatre and you can call 0732205430 to book. You can even pre-book a platter for two (R65) with the restaurant.

PS. When I drive home, late at night, from the Kalk Bay side, I see the water that is the water of the Deep Red Sea; the moon, shining on the waves and turning the sea, white black red black white black red. Sharks live in that water.

Ag Pleez Deddy

By megan

On March 3, 2011

In show reviews

I properly cried in the car on the way home. I cried in the dark, and drove, and remembered my dad, who would have been three years younger than Jeremy Taylor, if he was still alive.

Jeremy Taylor has come to The Kalk Bay Theatre for a three week run of a show that is strange, funny, sad, incisive, delightful and mostly totally, shatteringly moving. Everybody remembers , but it’s the other ones that my dad used to sing as well. Going Up, Northern Suburbs, Safe My Mate are all hilarious observations of Seffeffrica in the seventies. The more serious stuff though is totally chilling. The Story of Steve Biko (I don’t know what it is officially called) left me shattered, as well as the touching informal story of the Afrikaaner policeman in Broederstroom.

Jeremy Taylor is old to be on stage. He seems frail, which only adds to that raw nostalgia that he conjures with an accent or stress in just the raaght playce. The show is long (maybe a song or story too long). But it is unmissable. I wish that Kuli Roberts could see this show, to understand proper satire, real commentary and acute and detailed observation. Jeremy Taylor gives an extraordinary lesson in Apartheid and its effects, its weirdness, those that followed it, and those that deviated from it. His song The Immorality Law is a classic example (and one my father particularly delighted in).

Jeremy Taylor was banned by the Nats in South Africa. His music, including his most famous encore, Ag Pleez Deddy, was banned in South Africa. And yet, even though he isn’t even South African, he made me feel, taste, smell and cry my white South African childhood.

My rekindled love affair with TheatreSports

By megan

On February 23, 2011

In Cape Town, deeply personal, me on stage, theatre stuff

I woke up this morning with a real spring in my step. I had a grin stretching to both my ears and I was completely full of beans. The reason for this is that I played TheatreSports last night after a break of 10 months, and a cannot begin to explain what a total jol it was. It was a regular TheatreSports show at The Kalk Bay Theatre. There was a great and warm audience. And the show was original, very hilarious, and an absolute soul energiser for me.

There is something so refreshing and inspiring about being on stage and making things up in front of an audience. Of course, not everything works, and some things are more successful than others. Some ideas fall flat, some don’t even get a chance to come out of your mouth, and sometimes things go pear-shaped in front of you. But when an idea happens and it gets taken up and transformed, and achieves soaring heights of original, often hilarious results, it is the best feeling in the world. There is nothing quite like the team spirit of a TheatreSports team. There is nothing like the shared enjoyment of a successful moment.

Ah, I have been reminded of my fix. And I am playing again on Monday night, at The Intimate. I can’t wait!

Megan's Head

A place where Megan gets off her head.

Tag: The Kalk Bay Theatre (Page 2 of 5)

Real Rose

Improv Love Story

What’s in My Bad Mood?

The Deep Red Sea

Ag Pleez Deddy

My rekindled love affair with TheatreSports

Categories

Tags

Archives