Titirangi Theatre was formed in 1935 by Ethelwynn Geddes and was part of the Country Women’s Institute based in the MacAndrew Hall on Titirangi Road. Called ‘The Drama Circle’, it consisted only of women until about 1951, when gradually, as productions became more ambitious, men were drawn in as well.
Why does this matter?
Simply because, going to a show at Titirangi Theatre is like taking a good few steps back in time – it’s worth a visit just to ride the wonderful 1940’s lift. Don’t get me wrong, all the theatre facilities are top notch but there’s a lovely sense of ‘days gone by’ in the decor and even in the surrounds, a trip back to a more refined and delicate age.
Having said that, there’s nothing delicate, nor is there any exquisite sense of yesterday, in Sally Stockwell’s superb solo work We’ve Got So Much to Talk About. It’s as blunt as a ball-peen hammer and as technically contemporary as tomorrow’s lunch. It’s also deliciously nuanced, and fare as rich as Great Grandma’s Cherished Christmas Pud.
In short, it’s great theatre.
The fact that it’s largely about motherhood also seems more than appropriate.
It’s fair to say that We’ve Got So Much to Talk About has been around the traps a bit but Stockwell, in her publicity, explains this by noting ‘I’m proud to say that we’ve worked hard since its premiere last year and there are lots of great changes – it’s better, stronger, slicker. Worth coming a second time or seeing it for the first if you missed it last time. You won’t be disappointed!’
I didn’t see it last time, and, no, I wasn’t disappointed. Not one bit.
We’ve Got So Much to Talk About describes itself as a ‘high-octane one-woman rock ‘n’ roll theatre-gig that explores the challenges and complexities of motherhood through a mashup of sound, song, movement, and rebellion via themes of isolation, freedom, feminism and the struggle between artistry and motherhood’ and it certainly does all that.
More too, but I’ll get to that.
‘With a loop pedal and surprising household objects, Stockwell fuses earthy electronic soundscapes, edgy stripped-back melodies, and rich vocal harmonies into a powerful and emotive musical experience.’
You need to be multi-talented to achieve all that, and Stockwell is, without a shadow of doubt, multi-talented. What makes Stockwell refreshingly different is that she also works relentlessly at her craft and shares her methods and her passions in online interviews that we can all track down and learn from. I did, and it’s well worth the effort. It’s good knowledge, and we all benefit.
What makes We’ve Got So Much to Talk About stand out above most solo shows is that it leaves nothing on the rehearsal floor, in the birthing suite, nor in the nursery. Everything is fair game. Stockwell is immensely courageous in her honesty, and this allows us real access to her experiences as a Mum, as an artist, and the ridiculous balancing act necessary to be outstanding at both. It’s ‘warts and all’, but never self-indulgent, and it’s very, very funny – in a somewhat dark way. No, I’ll be honest, it’s bloody black at times, and it has to be to avoid the danger of just being a paean to the dreadfulness of motherhood – it isn’t – and that rare nakedness that goes along with being a performing artist – it is – and bravery and humour are great, dual devices for achieving this subtle catharsis.
The songs and soundscapes that make up We’ve Got So Much to Talk About are rich and beautifully integrated, the styles diverse and individual, and all are superbly performed by a musician at the absolute top of her game.
The full house – mostly women – drifts in and everyone is seated exactly where they want to be as if by magic. This, in itself, is no mean feat in an auditorium that has general admission
We are greeted by a set that is a clutter of the domestic – a tea set, a tray of kitchen detritus, a vacuum cleaner – alongside an array of microphones and an overall feel of a recording studio held together by a tangle of wires and cables and not much else. It’s immediately clear, however, that this isn’t the case. A place for everything and everything in its place, and Stockwell manoeuvres her way through this extraordinary labyrinth for the next hour without a single blip, not a single jack plug wrongly inserted. It’s very clever work, and as perfect an opening night as I’ve seen in a ‘Sunth of Mondays.’
Stockwell introduces herself and her music, she makes an impressive loop – she’s a mum, a sister, a daughter, a singer, a songwriter, an actor, a witch. There are the recorded sounds of audience applause married to real audience applause – a lovely touch.
Now it’s audition time. For some obscure thing or other. It’s awful. Many of us have been there. It’s deeply inhumane. The denouement? ‘We were actually looking for someone younger’.
There’s talk of sherry and Valium, resonances of Paul Simon’s drug-numb ‘Dangling Conversation’, a delicious burlesque sequence, a litany of roles played – the Disney Mom, playing the Mum of a son who is, in reality, only eight years younger than she is, along with timeless questions like ‘do actors get what it means to be a Mum when they aren’t one?’
There’s the incongruity of Patient Grizelda – Chaucer and Churchill – and it all makes sense, even the impatient director whose ‘just say the lines’ really resonates.
Suddenly it’s the end, imaginative, extraordinary, and wonderful. The audience is silent, then it erupts.
We are stupefyingly satisfied, but Stockwell is gone.
Where?
To relieve a frazzed babysitter? A nodding-off husband? Or just to have a bliss-filled moment of quiet in the dressing room after a wonderful opening night?
We’ve Got So Much to Talk About really is exceptional. Stockwell is superb. As conceiver, writer, composer, performer, everything, she does the industry proud, an industry that often does not deserve this level of continued excellence – it eats you up and spits you out – ‘we were looking for someone younger’ as though you’re an over-cooked steak that has failed to satisfy, and it’s all your fault.
I take from my evening, Stockwell’s outstanding courage, her sublime artistry, the selfless access she gives us to her pain and joy each in equal measure, and how she then makes them universal and available to everyone.
One more performance in this Auckland season. You should go.
You won’t be disappointed.
More please.
Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer.
dykiegirl 