‘Welcome to Yarramadoon’ says the map on the bus stop. Nice. Except. This map has not one distinguishing feature. A few trees and 5 roads. No wonder Shelley wants out. And we want the best for her. In the tradition of The Castle or that other little Aussie Bleeder, she has won our hearts in a mere few lines. This is artful, open and loving work where comic pathos wrestles with our preconceptions to give us a heroine to root for.
In the course of Shelley’s wait for the only way out of the town, after being bounced by a parental dispute over sex, we meet locals and the ghosts of the locals. As we learn more about Shelley’s aspirations, her circumstances and the influences that make this 16-year-old willing to strike out to the big smoke, Shelley becomes the kind of kid who we think might just make it. But does she?
The cast of thousands in YARRAMADOON: THE MUSICAL are played by Hannah Reilly and Eliza Reilly with a style all their own. They slip easily into a new character with a tweak of costume or a twist of their hair or a knowing acknowledgement of the crowd. And that is where the artistry is at work. They are such warm, playful, open performers who bank a whole heap of goodwill with this audience such that the onlookers’ raucous, rapturous enjoyment and engagement is guaranteed.
These artists know how to work a crowd, how to engender sympathy and the fine art of making broad characters emotional and touching. You don’t realize how good they are in the moment because the show rollicks along but on your way out, giggling and chatting, you realise that the experience might have been the best 70 minutes of communal love you’ve had at the theatre in yonks.
As Shelley says, “Oh my fucking God”. The art of hitting a swear word just right is a long and venerable Australian tradition crafted to considerable effect here. As is the movement which is choreographed for maximum nonverbal effect and the unadulterated nature of the text which is equally deliciously choreographed in delivery. There’s dance and kicks and even simulated flight, with the travel between characters as much fun as meeting them. Damo’s entry is stunning. And the understated lyricism of the text is richly mined by their vocal work… A phrase like “sandy marshmelly” rolls of the tongue as if made up on the spot. Pauses and expressions and the implication of a nudge, nudge are subsumed by character. Characters we love. For their forthrightness, for their reflection of an Australia we are incredibly protective of.
And the songs? Variety is the name of the game from rap to Sprechgesang. And rhymes that juuuust make it… giving a huge laugh on the way. Think: Canada and stamina and Sydney and destiny. Though probably not cast-album worthy, the women do have big voices which hold the tune nicely to bring the character through. And Matthew Predny on the keyboard… poor bastard. Kinky Boots be damned, I liked his work in Gypsy but this might be my new fave. His musical skills move the show along and he is the worst dresser helper ever as he ineptly zips and adioses the unwanted clobber. But he can hit the emotions with the theme from Romeo and Juliet and, when prompted, trill to thrill with ambient music. Technically there are some great audio and video, there’s that disturbing hidden competence again.
The lighting from Martin Kinnane is as brash as our girls. No outward expression of an inner monologue goes un-pinked, no disco un- garished and there’s even a gag with a spotlight. Isabella Andronos has costumed for realism rather than ruining the ethos by exaggeration. The characters reveal themselves easily and there’s that recognizability thing again. Not lampooned, not grotesque but 2004 real. And the leopard print caftan says it all.
YARRAMADOON: THE MUSICAL from Aya Productions in association with 25A @ Belvoir continues until August 11 and it is a production to go straight to the pool room. Or to use a Yarramadoon phrase … It will blow your dick off. (Hope that’s not copyrighted!)
