2013 – The Firsts

Rather than give in to the delicious temptation of outlining everything fantastic that occurred this year, I thought I’d focus on the firsts. The first time you do anything is scary, for the obvious reason that you haven’t been down the path before and have no way of knowing if you’ll make it safely to the other end. But it’s exciting too as, succeed or not, it can’t be undone – you’ll always be able to say “I did that thing.”  2013 had quite a few firsts, professionally.

  • Gaybies – First Play I’ve Created.  I’ve actually never had a desire to write a play, but I did have a desire to do something for Midsumma 2013, their 25th anniversary.  The festival is very connected to my life, being the birth of Prodigal and my writing career. I really wanted to do something for their quarter-century but had nothing ready to go.  But then I thought “verbatim theatre will be easy, I won’t even had to write it myself, just cut-and-paste!”  I thought of coming at gay marriage via the offspring of gay people, getting to the root of “what about the children?”  Adam Gardnir at Midsumma loved the idea and pushed me into doing it, when I was quite ready to say “I’m just too busy.”  Every good idea I’ve ever had I’ve wanted to pull out of two days later, so it’s good to tell someone bossy who’ll make you do it.  Other tactics involve booking a space with a non-refundable deposit, or putting yourself in a brochure.  Anyway, Gaybies was on and I set about interviewing as many subjects as I knew of, friends suggested, or came up via twitter/Facebook.  The interviews were wonderful and the subjects all so open, funny and lovely.  Transcribing the material was exhausting (thank God for touch-typing in Year 10) but as the cast was starting to assemble and featured a ton of my favourite performers as well as the wonderful Sumner Theatre as our venue, it made the work worth working at.  I banged together a draft via a number of shaping methods, started adding my brother’s songs for respite and bought Daniel Clarke on as director.  We rehearsed the fab cast in across two cities and then I jetted off to direct Priscilla in London while the team put the show on.  I’ve never been away from a show of mine in it’s first incarnation, and that was a first that I would gladly do without again, but the first text came through at 10:30am during a rehearsal of “True Colours” saying “You just got a standing ovation at your first show!”  I never got to see Gaybies live, and though it was nearly programmed three times in 2014 (talk about stress!) it was filmed beautifully so I kind of know what it was like being in the room hearing those stories.  For a first play, it was as beautiful an experience as a writer could hope for. Gaybies_photoPiaJohnson_123
  • Liza (on an E) – First Show in the West End.  Trevor Ashley has chutzpah, and with this, talent and a dedicated manager got our tiny little pub show that was planned to do two weeks into a 800-seat theatre in London’s famed West End.  This entire week is outlined in another blog, but it was showbiz heaven.  The audience ate Trevor up, Trevor ate London up, and I ate Pret up.Liza On An E-1022
  • Straight – First Play Directed.  I have been dying to direct a play for years, really just to see if I could do it and this year Red Stitch gave me the opportunity.  I loved the play on one read – it was funny, surprising and made me quite nervous – essentially two best friends meet up 7 years after Uni and one drunken night decide to make a porn movie together, though they’re both straight.  The final half hour is them psyching up for the (never shown) act.  This was my first time working with Red Stitch who were utterly delightful and supportive.  Three of the ensemble were in the show, Ben, Rosie and Chrissy with Ryan as a guest artist.  As I suspected, directing a play is no different to a musical, in terms of how you approach the scenes – basically, as ever, you’re just going, how would someone act in real life, what do I find truthful, how should this story beat flow or most simple of all – what is going on here?  The challenges of a play are that the scenes are long and you really have to shape the rhythm of flow of it over rehearsal time so that the actors have such a concrete understanding of the shape of the scene that they can go for it when they’re on the floor.  I loved the cast’s inventiveness and actually just loved the cast altogether, as well as our fab SM Jen and LD Claire.  This was also my first real collaboration with Owen Phillips (though he did Gaybies) who triumphed at creating a believable bedsit that could transform into a luxe hotel in 90 seconds IN FRONT OF THE AUDIENCE.  That scene change, done to Robin Thicke’s Blurred Lines often got applause and all it took was three days of rehearsal and a lot of stress.  Since then we’ve done two more collaborations with plenty more on the way. The play was loved and hated; some people found it confronting, some unbelievable, some a really long-winded coming out story.  I found it hilarious and a very modern take on true sexuality.  And a great chance to use Salt ‘N Pepa facetiously.DSC_0951
  • The Pirates of Penzance – First Operetta Directed/First Show in Hamer Hall.  I didn’t expect to love this experience and show so much.  It’s a perennial, but doesn’t really jump off the page.  I read the script in 25 minutes on a tram ride from the CBD to Richmond.  And though the Public Theatre version is famed, it looks super-creaky now on DVD.  But, like all live theatre, it really work onstage.  Cast a bunch of the funniest and silliest (and often hottest) singers you can find, bring on an equally inventive design team and then have them sung by Matty and danced by Andy and all you need is one small parrot puppet to create a riot onstage.  I loved every second of creating this show (except perhaps the seconds that designer Dale Ferguson and I were fluttering blue confetti onto the Hamer Hall stage) and am so thrilled that Ken and Rachel gave us the opportunity to put our mark on one of their favourite and dearest shows (they made Marina a star with their famed production in the 80s and one of the thrills was seeing her gasp with joy on opening night).  We were very lucky to get performers like Gareth and Claire, who can sing better than anyone, are funny as fuck, can dance AND are pretty eye-catching.  Add clowns like Adam, Gen, Brent and Wayne, and an ensemble to die for led by Troy, Steph and Josie and you have the ingredients for theatre magic right there.  You don’t get the chance to do music that is both sublime and funny and working on that show in the divine space that is Hamer Hall is a life highlight.TPC The Pirates of Penzance_1211
  • In Vogue: Songs by Madonna – First Show at Edinburgh.  I didn’t get to see Michael triumph at Edinburgh with his 5 star reviews but I did get to see him last week in London.  He was picked up by a producer after his Edinburgh season to perform a Xmas season at the new St James cabaret room in the Victoria area.  I hadn’t seen this show of ours for a few years and was actually gobsmacked at how good Michael is – if you’ve never seen the show, he accompanies himself on a baby grand for the whole 70 minutes (doing his own sumptuous arrangements) without sheet music, sings like an angel while delivering a bitchy, funny, sad and wry script.  His only respite is the 5 hilarious minutes he spends sharing Madge’s new book of happy snaps (the infamous Sex book).  Like Trevor, this first is really about the performer, but it’s a joy to see a show you’ve created together taking on a life of it’s own.305192_10151062433507753_1783215293_n

As I get ready to host someone else’s New Year’s Eve party tonight (that’s a first too!) I’m already looking forward to a few firsts in 2014 (First Show at the Hayes Theatre, First Musical in London, First Original Musical by Someone Else, First Production in Korea – South, First Puppet Show in Cantonese, First Nativity Play Performed by Amateur Football Players, the list goes on…) but it’s nice to see that the paths that looked scary or just a bit boring to walk down all ended up being delightful.  Happy New Year’s and thanks for reading, Mum.

 

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Highlights of a Wild West End Week

  • Seeing a West End theatre (the Vaudeville) emblazoned with the name of my show.  It was particularly glam if you ignored the roadworks just outside the marquee (we skilfully photographed it to crop them out)
  • The gifts of a perfect team of tech and creatives – impeccable musical direction and playing from George, a red-hot band, exciting and grand lighting from Tom, all under the stewardship of Will – and each of these delightful guys was under 30.
  • Seeing a show written for the basement of a Sydney pub play to a sophisticated London theatre crowd with even more verve and chutzpah, four years on.  
  • The look in Trevor’s eye as he entered on press night – no nerves whatsoever, more “Win you over? Challenge accepted.”  He works hard and imaginatively for those standing ovations and it’s a delight to see him get them.
  • Chris’ glorious voice for “Tenterfield Saddler”.
  • Sir Cameron popping back to say “well done” at interval on press night.
  • The buzz on twitter etc over the next few days.
  • Going out till 4 with the tireless Priscilla crew in the medieval township of York.
  • The gorgeous design of “Beautiful Thing” by Colin Richmond – inventive and poetic.
  • Using Soho House as my “home away from…” for the week.
  • Breakfast at Flat White every morning.
  • Seeing Mikey rock it out at the Shacklewell Arms.
  • The puppet show at the Unicorn.
  • Being there.
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The Strangest Brief Ever

“Hi Dean, this is Andy Walker from Fremantle”

“Oh, hi, how you going?”

“Good thanks, look I’m producing a new show for Channel 10 for Kat Stewart and Shaun Micallef and we’re doing this episode set backstage at a musical.  Do you and Matt want to come in for a meeting?  Andy Hallsworth’s doing the choreography”

That’s how Matt and I found ourselves (with Andy) at the vast warehouse space Fremantle has in Richmond.  TV has a fascination for me, being “same-but-different”.  In the room were a number of people who got introduced as the story editor, costume designer, set designer and a couple of producers, including Andy Walker, who turned out to be one of the nicest men we’ve ever worked with.

We didn’t really know why we were there – the show was going to be an amateur detective series and I guess they wanted some songs – and to this day we still don’t actually know who recommended us for the job.  And everyone has heard how terribly people are treated in television.  So the fact that this turned out to be one of the best writing jobs we’ve ever undertaken was a very pleasant surprise.

The brief was explained at the first meet – this new Channel 10 show, Mr and Mrs Murder, was set at a new environ every week.  This episode was going to be set backstage at a commercial musical (as it turned out it was filmed in the National, used the Maj’s side door for a stage door and the Forum for the poster, so it was kind of set at every commercial musical) where the leading lady was found killed.  And the musical?  A bio-musical about Amy Winehouse’s life.  Using original songs.  Clearly, in the age of the jukebox musical, we were in fantasy land, but it was a thrilling challenge to be asked to write songs for this unicorn of a musical.

There were a few parameters – three songs, the first one we saw was a tech rehearsal gone to hell, a ballad that had to involve Amy and the other 4 members of the 27 Club (Jimi, Janis, Kurt and Jim) and the set was already designed (what is this? An Andrew Lloyd-Webber production?!) to be a massive crucifix and church windows.  Brilliantly I suggested that the other ensemble members could form a choir!  Song 2 was to be sung at the funeral of the dead leading lady, and had to clue our amateur detectives onto the fact that our leading lady was having a lesbian liaison.  The final song was a big production number about anything Amy-ish that could be contrasted with an attempted murder below the stage.  We all agreed that we could do this and set off to write the songs.

We were also given the lovely task of casting the 10 singer/dancers and coming up with the orchestration and staging of the two big numbers.  Which were being filmed in a month.  This was truly the first time that Matt and I have had the chance to write, cast, stage and have fully produced, any number from a musical ever.  And it was the dreaded “TV” that was making it possible.

First we needed some concepts.  I hit the biogs.  I know very little about Amy Winehouse.  I listened to “Back to Black” like medicine, and kind of hated “Rehab”.  In fact, when the story editor, the lovely Kelly LeFevre, made a joke about the musical-within-the-tv-show being called “No, No, No” I laughed and had no idea what she was referring to.  So, whilst on the treadmill at Fitness First, I played that iconic album over and over and not only grew to appreciate the voice and the music but to admire it immensely.  I studied “Rehab” so closely, in fact, that I demanded that Matt and I recreate the clapping beats for the production number we came up with.  The two of us clapping into a mic in the studio is definitely up there with “campest moments of our relationship” thus far.

Amy’s life was quite joyous and way too short.  Addiction claimed her.  It’s not a happy story.  The pain her family and friends suffered as she could not shake her demons must have be intolerable.  I felt how tired she must have been of it all.  Of not being able to get completely sober, of not being able to resolve her relationships, of not being able to do the thing she loved.  And that’s what fed into the song we wrote, “27”.  What was Amy thinking on that last night, with a bottle of vodka in her hand?  The number is theatrical – the members of the 27 Club turn up, and each one riffs with their most famous song about  the struggles of being a famous artist – and those choir members give it hardcore backing.    We demo’d that one and sent it to 10 – they were thrilled.

For the production number, I wanted to go 60s and fun, so looked for a happy moment in Amy’s life.  I chose the period just after she met her soon-to-be husband Blake – that’s when she was at her most creative, writing the songs that became “Back to Black”.  And because it was being contrasted with a murder under the stage, I wanted it to be have the lyrics “good stuff” and “bad stuff” in it.  So to fit them into the song I had Blake (as legend has it) introduce her to crack halfway through the number.  And being a musical theatre song that means that everything slows down and goes kind of dream ballet.  This song also passed muster immediately.

The third song, just a love song to be done at a funeral, proved to be the hardest.  The first one we wrote was considered too sad.  I got a little to Sondheim about the whole thing and imagined it was the song Blake would have sung in the musical at Amy’s funeral.  When all Fremantle really needed was a nice song that had the lyric “man and a woman” in it, for the sleuths to clue into.  Next up Matt wrote a beautiful tune (music first is a fairly rare occurrence for us) and I wrote sardonic lyrics to go with it.  This was rejected as being too sarcastic, though they liked the tune.  So then I wrote a fairly simple and straightforward lyric called “Love’s Where I Live” that had “a man and a woman” in it 4 times.  This was snapped up and we had our song set.

“Love’s Where I Live”

Casting was easy.  Fremantle chose Gemma Ashley-Kaplan who was an utter joy to work with.  It was an inauspicious start though, as Gemma bought her dog over to the first music call who promptly pissed all over our carpet in nervousness.  This was a good omen as sheer embarrassment forced Gemma to belt the shit out of the material.  We liaised to cast Stephen Mahy as Blake and then there was a roll call of lovely singer/dancers from our previous shows (or just people we’d all liked in past auditions).

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First up we went to the studios for a day of putting the three tracks down.  Band parts for “Good Stuff” first, then we laid down solo vocals and finally the ensemble backings.  The studio mastered them over a few days and we hit the rehearsal room where Andy worked his magic on the two numbers.

Finally we got to shooting day.  It was an early start – 6am for some of the girls into hair and makeup.  Matt had gotten volunteered into taking the part of what I called “Snooty Pianist” and the wig girl tried to get a wig on him, but he wasn’t having any of it.  The choir got their hilarious hot pink and blue robes and the dead celebs got all dolled up.  It took about 2 hours to film the “27” number.  Gemma was a revelation during the filming of this – watching her commitment to each moment, and how gorgeous she looked on the “split” was pretty exciting.

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Daniel Nettheim, the director, was very generous and allowed us to film the number properly, even though only 30 seconds of it was going to make it onto broadcast.  In the show, tech problems happened (Mathew was the star of this section, rolling his eyes like he’s got a degree in it) and you only hear grabs of the number before it all goes in the toilet.  The funeral song had been filmed with Stephen the day before.  The cast all went into hair and makeup for “Good Stuff” and the team did amazing work with them – some seriously brilliant hairstyles came out of it.  We rehearsed the number again and then waited.   And waited.

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There were a ton of scenes to be filmed for the plot proper, but we knew that we had to finish by a certain time, and that time kept creeping closer and closer.  After a few hours not one dancer could have had a warm muscle when suddenly we were on.  We whipped through the number twice and within 7 or so minutes “Good Stuff” was in the can.

Months later, the show aired.  As expected the numbers were cut down to the minimum necessary to keep the real story moving forward, that of Shaun and Kat’s investigation.  Hilariously, the love song at the funeral was almost entirely background except for the lyric “a man and a woman” so I probably could have written any lyric at all for the tune (though I’m quite chuffed to have written a nice love song, we don’t have many of those in our rep).  But then Fremantle sent us the full versions of the songs, and we were stoked.

Writing music theatre in Melbourne is a pretty tough gig – there’s just not much chance for your work to be seen in any capacity.  So to have a commercial company invest their resources in having you write, stage, orchestrate then film three of your songs is both a joy and an invaluable asset in promoting our work in the future.  And who knows, maybe it’s not crazy to write an Amy Winehouse musical with original songs?

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Call Me Maybe – An Appreciation.

Clearly, I’m late to the party.  I downloaded this song, along with “What Makes You Beautiful” and “Starships” because I’d finally accidentally-heard them enough to think I should intentionally-hear them.  All three are now lodged in my brain and getting a lot of lip-sync work on the treadmill.  I like how “What Makes You Beautiful” sounds like “Summer Lovin'” when it starts and how “Starships” feels like it changes key in the bit after the chorus.  I can’t help put my hands slowly into the air as Nicki Minaj mangles (minajangles?) some rappy thing just before it.

But “Call Me Maybe” has my attention today.  It’s perfect pop.  It created Carly Rae Jepsen (via Bieber and Canada) who has since been semi-ironically referenced on “Girls” (Soon-Jee storms off on Booth after eating the rosewater ice-cream to join her boyfriend who is doing lights on the CRJ tour).  The thing that surprised me most about CRJ is that she’s 27.  Which seems old.  Until I remember I’m enjoying the song and I’m a decade oldER.

The song starts with (probably) faux strings doing a little bit of a rhythmic thing.  I like this as it’s a little bit disco and tells you the producers know this is good classy pop.  Unlike Minaj’s, which is good trashy pop.  Carly sings:

I threw a wish in the well/don’t ask me I’ll never tell/I looked to you as it fell/and now you’re in my way…

I was very pleased to see a pop song where three lyrics in a row actually rhymed.  Not false-rhymes but real ones.  At first I thought Carly was being coy (Coyly?) about “I’ll never tell” since it’s obvious what the wish is, but upon reflection she must have wished to fall in love with the next guy she saw, who happened to be (according to the video) a hot homosexual gardener.  The “now you’re in my way” sets up a kind of interesting tension – CRJ wanted to be in love, but now that feeling is stopping her from moving on with her life.

I trade my soul for a wish/pennies and dimes for a kiss…

Oh well, good things can’t last…

I wasn’t looking for this/but now you’re in my way

Ok, maybe I was overthinking that wish – if she’d wished to fall in love but then claims not to be looking for it, something’s awry.  Perhaps it’s just Carly acting coyly again.

There’s more lyrics which don’t really mean anything and then a really cool rocket-ship sound that propels us into the chorus.  This is where the disco strings really kick in.  If you’re a fan of ELO or Hooked on Classics or young enough not to know they ever existed thus aren’t hugely embarrassed by how they dominate the chorus of this song, you are in for a treat.  I think these strings contributed hugely to the success of the song.  And of course, it’s a very catchy chorus-

Hey, I just met you/and this is crazy/but here’s my number/so call me, maybe? (punctuation my own after listening to the track many times)

It’s hard to look right/at you baby/but here’s my number, so call me, maybe?

It took me quite a few listens to realise that those two lyrics were one sentence.  “It’s hard to look right at you, baby”.  Not “It’s hard to look right”.  Because what teenage girl or gay can’t identify with how hard it is to look right?  Even when it’s being sung by a woman in her late twenties with a severe fringe who’s wearing socks and heels in the cover art?  But no, it’s “It’s hard to look right at you baby”.

Carly-Rae-Jepsen-Call-Me-Maybe

The chorus repeats again but does two really fun things underneath – first there’s two “sonic glisses” as I’m calling them.  Glissandos are when pianists run their fingers down the keyboard to create excitement.  My boyfriend, a composer and pianist, loves glisses.  I tried doing one once and it really hurt my fingers.  The “Call Me Maybe” glisses are tuned to a kind of outerspace frequency but they’re definitely glisses.  The second fun thing underneath this chorus is a jangly guitar joins in very quietly, along with a high pitched alarm, creating a tense kind of giggly feeling – JUST LIKE FALLING IN LOVE AND BEING TOO NERVOUS TO SAY, “HEY, CALL ME” OR EVEN “WHAT’S YOUR NUMBER” BUT “CALL ME, maybe“.

There’s a lyrical addition here

And all the other boys/try and chase me/but here’s my number/so call me, maybe?

Nice tactic Ms Jepsen.  The old “everyone wants me (but I’m not a slut)” technique.

You took your time with the call/I took no time with the fall/You gave me nothing at all/but still you’re in my way

Nice to see the triple-rhyme back.  There’s been an interesting development in their relationship.  He’s been a typical male and held off calling.  CRJ has fallen straight away, perhaps at the wishing well, and the object of her gaze (a verbal pun that pays off in the final moments of the video clip) has shown little interest, which is infuriating and intoxication to a girl who “all the other boys try and chase”.

I beg and borrow and steal/at first sight, and it’s real/I didn’t know I would I feel/but now it’s in my way

A tortured triple-rhyme this time.  She’s forcing the English language to do things it doesn’t want to do, much like Lorenz Hart used to, and it’s a rhyme won on a foul.  But now to the content – what does she beg and borrow and steal at first sight?  Has this obsessive love caused this former good girl to do things she never thought she would?

Those silly lyrics about skin and ripped jeans and hot nights follow again and all anyone really wants us to hear is “Where you think you going, baby?”  So, now he’s the boy she’s chasing.  It’s gotten tough.

And we’re back in the chorus, with all the same disco strings, sonic glisses, jangly guitars and electric triangles.

Then we get what’s passing for the middle eight or bridge in this song.  It’s quite mystical, this section:

Before you came into my life/I missed you so bad/I missed you so bad/I missed you so, SO bad/Before you came into my life/I missed you so bad/and you should know that/I missed you so, SO bad

“Bad” then gets condensed, repeated and sent off into the aether.

Ok, I get what she’s saying.  Before she met the guy, she didn’t realise there was an absence in her life, an absence that might be called “love” or “lust” or “ego transference”.  However, it’s kind of nonsensically over-romantic to baldly state “before you came into my life I missed you so bad”.  What with all the other boys that were trying to chase you.  What was so special about this guy anyway?  Anyway, it’s a nice-ish sentiment and appeals to the modern-day tween who is just waiting for someone to rescue her from the monotony of not having “in a relationship” ticked on Facebook.  Musically nothing really happens here, but there’s a nice descending pattern that gives it structure.  Then disco strings and sonic glisses take over again.

Then we have the patented Britney moment where the singer sings an already established chorus over a minimal backing before it all kicks in again!  Dance floor time!  Jangle guitar!  Electric triangle! Weird mystical bridge with descending pattern!

Then the very odd ending.  The “slowing down the tape” ending.  Which is so odd as this is now the digital world.  What does it signify?  Did the guy never call her…again?  If you’ve seen the clip, that’s where you can add the “she’s just seen he’s a homo” moment, but the production would have occurred before the clip, so I’m just going to assume the production engineers went: button the song with an orchestra hit? Fade out on disco strings? Fuck it, let’s go with robot running out of batteries.

This is probably where I should admit that before I heard this song, but I’d heard OF it – ie, seen it in the iTunes chart – I thought it was a song about a girl called Maybe.  Like it was going to be some Sara Bareilles-type folky song like “You Can Call Me Al”, with an odd weekday name like the Addams family’s daughter or Portia’s from Arrested Development.  In fact, having now googled “daughter from Arrested Development” I find her name was Maeby.  So, if this was used underneath the soon-to-be-released movie of Arrested Development, you literally can call her Maeby.

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2012 – the world didn’t end, the work didn’t neither.

As I re-read my last blog, from July, that ended with a defiant “I’ll be back!” kind of vibe, I guess I felt sheepish.  I still haven’t gotten back into the blogging thing, after being so diligent for so long.  But, I’m sitting here two days before I join my family for Xmas up in Byron Bay and at 2am this morning I finished the first draft of my last project for the year.  I’m kind of on holidays and I thought I’d take the time to recap the year in work.

Britney 2

The first cab off the rank was the debut of In Vogue: Songs by Madonna and the return of Britney Spears: The Cabaret, both as part of the Midsumma Festival.  Both ended up having sellout seasons, with Britney even playing an entire extra week of shows, before setting out on tour around Oz.  This little show that premiered in 2009 has now played almost three months worth of seasons since then, a combination of the talent of Christie Whelan (now Whelan-Browne, another 2012 highlight – for her and Rohan, I wasn’t here), the perseverance of Lisa Campbell and Luckiest Productions and the fact that the show seems to touch people.  Touch them and make them piss themselves.  I think it’s probably wrapped up now, after playing Adelaide, Sydney, Melbourne and Brisbane, but like the title character herself – I wouldn’t rule out another triumphant comeback.  Meanwhile, the mother of reinvention herself was brought to life by a camp and low-voiced man, and my best friend and former flatmate, Michael Griffiths.  He’s taken our naughty and beautifully musical show across the whole country and to New York City this year, while playing one of the leads of Jersey Boys.  I still laugh myself silly when he shows off her book of snapshots, and talks us through the banalities of the Sex book.  Michael and I are about to start work on our next diva collaboration – debuting next year in June.

madonna pic

Next up were two months of heaven – putting Priscilla up in Sao Paulo.  The show closed last week and I was sad not to be there.  Though not being at things kind of gets to be a trend in your life when you’re always on the other side of the world from people you love.  I missed the aforementioned wedding because I was in Brazil, and the closing nights of both Broadway and Sao Paulo.  On one hand, closing nights are over-rated and on the other hand, I’d like to be there to make that call for myself.  Brazil was a two month celebration of brilliant people and actors, capirinhas, a visit to Rio and just generally having a brilliant time.  The show was great, too.

I came home to put Josie in the Bathhouse into the Spiegeltent.  I love this show because I love Josie Lane.  She’s brave, she’s gorgeous, funny as fuck and I could listen to her voice forever.  The show sold brilliantly in the tent – the Arts Centre were kicking themself that they didn’t program more shows – and we had a hoot putting our dirty little show up again, with the added talents of Ro-Hung.  The newly married Mr Browne-Whelan showed yet again why he’s the gayest straight man who lived.  Who’s also hot.  Which is just not fair.  To single people.  Bizarrely, this show set in a gay sauna still hasn’t played to any gay audiences, really.  I would love to see how it went down with the set that like to go down.  Ok, I know straight people do that too, but I saw a pun and took it.

From Josie I flew up to Sydney to work on that other romp, An Officer and a Gentleman – The Musical.  That was the hardest any of us have ever worked, I think.  It’s the first time I’ve done a six-day rehearsal week with two of those days, then three, turning into 12 hour days.  I’ve written four of my own original musicals before, but until this musical, I didn’t know how hard new musicals were!  The cast were troupers.  Literally.  Or factory workers.  Also basically literally.  But a finer group of people were never assembled to tell a military-based musical before.  It was hard to get up, then there was all that reviews drama, then we closed.  It really was a kind of dirty little war.  What I remember most fondly, though, were the wine-soaked debriefs after each day with the indefatigable director Simon, and his core creatives of Matt, Dale and Andy.  If I had to be led into war again, I’d want to be right behind that man and his crew.

This would’ve been the point that I started working on developing a television show.  Pretty much since the end of last year.  It’s interesting, learning an entirely new medium.  There’s not much to say about it, as it’s still so far from even becoming a real pilot, but it’s scary and good to feel like a real beginner at something.  It’s also the life of a writer, creator, whatever, to have to keep lots of projects in existence all the time, as you don’t know what quirks of fate will make one of them suddenly go.  Things can happen quickly, it just takes meeting someone, but if you’ve got nothing going on…nothing much is gonna go on.  This was probably also the point I started working with Todd McKenney on his concert for later in the year.  We hung out and chatted about his life, Peter Allen’s life, and over the course of a few meetings, strung together a skeleton for his show.  This continued through till October.

I don’t keep a very clear diary, so I’m guessing that The Producers was next up.  Perfect show.  Perfect cast.  Perfect experience.  Brent and Wayne led a brilliant group of singing and dancing comedians, working so hard in such a short amount of time, to show off Mel Brook’s zany creation.  It was a joy discovering just how funny this show actually was. And Andrew Hallsworth’s production numbers were exhilarating.  We work together on everything.  Literally.  This year we’ve done Priscilla, Officer, Forum and Producers together.  And Todd’s show, but we were only once in the same room for that.  I love working with him, his sharpness in the room and his kindness outside of it.  I’m very lucky that the collaboration of Simon Phillips and Ross Coleman begot the collaboration of Dean Bryant and Andrew Hallsworth.  The Producers was especially enjoyable because Ken, John and Rachel at The Production Company always make you feel so good about yourself during the whole process.  I was thrilled that everyone who worked on the show had such a good time together.  I think it showed in the outcome.

Out of the blue, Mathew and I got offered a writing job.  We were to create the songs for an episode of the upcoming Channel Ten show Mr and Mrs Murder.  I can’t say anything about what the job was until it airs in February, but I can say that Fremantle and Ten were brilliant to work with.  I think it’s the first time we’ve handed songs in and received congratulatory emails from a producer – I expected the TV world to be dismissive but maybe the novelty of what we were doing made them extra-enthusiastic.  The songs were recorded beautifully and choreographed for the television by…Andrew Hallsworth, of course.  It’s bizarre that the writing highlight of the year for us would be this, but it was.

I think I wrote a pilot next.  It was really funny and it was good to get the ideas out there.  It had about 40 characters, at least 10 of them actual celebrities.  Since then I’ve watched a lot more comedy and pilots and realised that meeting just a few characters is hard enough, but 40?  But it was invaluable research into how the world I was inventing talked and behaved.  When I write the new pilot, with 8 characters and a few rooms, I’ll know a lot more.

Then it was off to London and Sweden to audition new casts for Priscilla.  It’s touring the UK all of next year, starring Jason Donovan and Richard Grieve, and Andrew and I head off in two weeks to rehearse them in.  London was in great weather all week.  I caught up with friends and had the pleasure of seeing the best musical I’ve seen since Billy ElliotMatilda.  It just works.  It’s charming, it’s intriguing, it’s cute, it’s moving – I just had a wonderful night at the theatre.  Afterwards, too, when this slightly odd man and woman came up to tell me they adored my velvet jacket.  It was nice and awkward in equal measures.  Stockholm is a beautiful clean city full of beautiful clean people.  Our hosts, Asa and Kristjan were as delightful as hosts could be, taking us to lovely dinners around the historic city.

Forum started rehearsals while I was finishing off casting.  It’s still playing now at the Maj.  There were a lot of famous funny people in that rehearsal room, famous for numerous and varied things.  It was definitely the craziest rehearsal room I’ve been in – intentionally, as Simon wanted the show to have a manic, playful quality.  Forum is a brilliant farce, with songs I grew to love (I knew Pacific Overtures better than I did Forum) so it was quite the process taking a bunch of different creative methods and impulses and making this piece of clockwork work.  Geoffrey Rush was singing in this show, for the first time really.  He came to our house to work with Matty for three months prior to rehearsals starting.  He began to memorise the script at the same point.  That level of detail and investigation for what many would say was “just a bit of fun” was testament to why he is one of our country’s greatest actors.  It was invaluable to see just how hard you should work if you want to be an artist of that calibre.  Even now he still invents every show, nine weeks after opening night.

And of course, Sondheim flew out to see the show.  I got to chat to him for a half hour at drinks and it was…nerve-wracking, of course – you can’t help but put so much pressure on yourself to make this conversation count!  He was affable, charming…we really just did small talk; jetlag, shows in New York, people in common etc.  They say it’s dangerous to meet your heroes (and if I had one hero in the entire world, it would be him) because you’ll inevitably be disappointed.  I saw that he was only a human and instead of being disappointed I was inspired again by the fact that those shows could come from that funny, normal man, and also that the level of adulation he has received for 40 years now hasn’t made him anything but kind and pleasant to all.  I still would’ve like to talk about writing, but, who wouldn’t?

The visit also revitalised me in one way.  Matty and I have been writing original musicals for 13 years now.  They’ll pretty much all gone on and had lovely seasons and people love them.  But lately I’ve struggled with what to write that has a bigger life, that gets seen by lots of people, that can get an audience that justifies the cost of big musicals.  We’ve had our disappointments over the last few years and I’d gotten a bit “what the hell are we meant to write?” about it.  But meeting Sondheim in the flesh, and hearing him talk at the afternoon chat made me remember – this man wrote what he wanted to, what he was interested in, what his collaborators suggested – and never what he thought would sell.  It reminded me that to write and create for your own interest and pleasure is enough.  And a much surer path to satisfaction than trying to find the project that will sell.

I thought once Forum was open, I’d be done for the year, but no – one of the balls thrown up in the air came back down again.  I proposed a show for Midsumma’s 25th anniversary called Gaybies – a piece of verbatim theatre about children with gay parents.  We were given the Sumner Theatre and suddenly, it was on!  I hit the interview trail and over the last six weeks have met 27 people, talked to them about their lives and transcribed their words into a piece of theatre that will come to life in a month.  I finished the first draft two days ago – the first time in my life I’ve finished on schedule! – and I feel good about it.  It helps that the group of actors that are going to bring these people’s beautiful stories to life include favourites from all my shows over the last few years; Todd McKenney (Anything Goes), Virginia Gay (The Producers), Esther Hannaford (Once We Lived Here), Trevor Ashley (Liza), Christie Whelan-Browne (Britney), Alex Rathgeber (Experiment), Ben Mingay (Officer), Kate Kendall (Next to Normal), Gareth Keegan (Good Stuff), Brent Hill (The Producers) and newcomers Robert Tripolino (who’s swinging in Forum), Emily Milledge (did a workshop of my musical The Silver Donkey) and Georgia Scott (my good friend Phil’s daughter and a freshly minted WAAPA grad).  Just typing that list I get excited…excited and sad as I’ll never actually see the show.  It opens a week after I leave to direct the UK tour of Priscilla.  The reins have been handed to up and coming director Daniel Clarke – he did the much-lauded Golden Dragon at MTC and Pornography at SATC this year, and is a verbatim theatre specialiste.  I know come 8am on Thursday, January 17, I’ll be hovering over my iPhone, waiting to hear from my boyfriend how opening night went.

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This is an example of what makes a life like this hard sometimes.  Apart from missing my friends’ wedding this year and the closing of two shows with companies that I adored, missing seeing Gaybies at all really hurts.  But you have to make choices that enable you to keep everything going forward.  But dammit – being in the room on the opening nights of Once We Lived Here, Prodigal, Next to Normal and The Producers were moments of such bliss, when everything you and a group of people have worked towards is shared with another group of people, that it kind of pisses me off that these choices have to be made.

Next year will be good I think – there’s less of those jobs that keep me in a rehearsal room for weeks and time to imagine what I want to create.  I’ve realised this year that I’m at my most content when I am creating – be it a musical, cabaret or piece of verbatim theatre – well, when I get the idea I’m content, then I’m stressed as I try to figure out how to, then content again when it’s working, then stressed again…etc etc.  The balls are going up in the air as we speak – Josie Lane and I have a brilliant new idea for a show that basically allows her to belt for 70 minutes straight, Michael is arranging the songs of his new diva as we speak, that pilot is asking to be redone, and one of the gayby interviews gave me an idea for a movie that seems so perfect and Australian and camp-in-the-way-I-like that maybe I’ll venture over into that territory.  And of course, Matty and I are due to write a new musical.  Without worrying whether the audience will pay $140 a ticket for it.

And so, assuming the world doesn’t end tomorrow, there’s lots to look forward to.

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Why I Haven’t Blogged

1. Laziness.

2. I was working.

3. I was working on “An Officer and a Gentleman”.

4. Then I was developing new stuff.  Stuff that I didn’t want to talk about because if it doesn’t happen you feel like a dweeb.  Plus people steal ideas; Apple didn’t even invent the iPhone, it was that guy who sells The Big Issue on the corner of Queen and Collins.  He told me.

5. Then I did Producers.  Which was actually awesome in every single way, so I might do a belated blog on that.

6. I’ve been thinking a lot about people who read blogs – not fans, friends or family, but people who report on the arts industry.  I started to wonder a lot about whether me writing about the process, which is kind of a fun insider journey for a lot of people, might actually end up giving them yet another brickbat to hit you with. “Oh, the DIRECTOR thinks he and SOME ACTOR have had a breakthrough, well, let me rain on that parade.  I’ll be the one deciding who’s had breakthroughs or not!”  I kind of went into the zone of just put the work out there and leave it at that.

7. I tweet,  facebook, and instagram every single day.  Writing a blog felt like I was back at Melbourne University.  “How many words?  300!  I’ll be up all night!”

8. There’s so much good television out there at the moment.  Game of Thrones alone sapped the leisure time that wasn’t taken up by drinking, and then there was Downton Abbey, Girls and Revenge.  Ok, I gave up on Revenge seven eps in, but for a while I was a real flagwaver.

9. A bit of doubt of late.  Sure, it creeps in for everyone who makes stuff up.  But a bit of doubt puts you off creating, and then puts you off blogging about creating, because really, why write about the process of something that you feel like you might not be processing in any way worth accessing?

10. Laziness.

Anyway, since I last blogged I have been very busy, so it’s not like I’ve been absent from the world of theatre, just from the reportage.  I’ll still be affected by many of the ten points above, but fuck it, if you write from your heart you’ll be fine.  So, I’m off to St Vincent’s to get one, and then I’ll keep on blogging.

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Priscilla 2012 – Brasil

I was worried about doing Priscilla in Brasil.  The two audition trips had been high on talent and low on enjoyment – basically I remembered traffic, chaos and never wandering far from my hotel.  Low expectations can be wonderful, and the two months I spent in Brasil rehearsing Priscilla were easily amongst the best of my life.

From the first minute I arrived at the George V Hotel, I knew things were going to be great.  It was a beautiful place, roomy and in a great location – Pinheiros, the Beverly Hills of Sao Paulo.  Immediately I stumbled upon Piraja, the local Carioca-style bar, a few minutes walk from the hotel, and halfway between home and the rehearsal venue, in the architecturally superb Tomi Ohtake building.  Piraja…I miss it terribly, the great waiters who insisted on speaking Portuguese to us even though they knew we couldn’t understand it, who’d find us a table in the always packed bar, the great steaks and sausages in cachaca, and more importantly, the amazing capirinhas made of cachaca – my favourite drink, I suspect, until the day I or my liver dies.  

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The beloved capirinhas on our final night.

The weather was beautiful – almost always sunny, with a tropical storm between 4-6pm every day.  There was a park fifteen minutes jog away (in Sao Paulo you jog down the grassy area between the lanes – it was quite foresty in there).  There was very good coffee next door at Ofner – my best attempts at language were used here; cafe con leite, pra leva, mezjo. (I’m inventing the spelling).

But what made the trip was the people.  The cast, of course, but everyone I met in Brasil.  I’ve tried to describe what the culture is like to people back home in Australia, but it’s so difficult to get across the genuineness of Brazilians – their sense of fun, the openness, their contact with emotions, their ability to both take things seriously and not too seriously.  I’ve never met a people I liked more.  And I’m a relatively cynical person.  In Brasil I felt like it was a good thing to share, to be friendly up front, to celebrate the life that you’re living every day.  

Which makes the country perfect to host Priscilla – a show about celebrating individuality in it’s most fabulous form.  I’ve blogged endlessly about the show in so many countries now that I won’t bother talking about the process except to say that it was the easiest rehearsal period I’ve had.  Why?  Firstly, the actors all got the material – the lead cast were astonishingly good, easily up there, if not superior to, the best in the world.  The story made perfect sense when told by then, even the sometime awkward shifts in the the narrative (um…paintbrushes onstage now!)  The discipline of the cast was also astonishing – when the actors weren’t being used, rather than gossiping or playing on their iPhones they sat quietly waiting till they were needed, or watched their fellow actors with joy, or just practised a particularly complex piece of choreography by themselves in the corner.

The first run we did of Act One, usually a bit of train wreck was exhilarating.  One week in and they’d captured the spirit of the show to perfection.  Lots of cleaning up had to occur (I don’t think Andrew ever wants to mention the Cupcake debacles again) but you just knew that they were going to land this show brilliantly.  I always looked forward to turning up each day and seeing everyone in the room, and to enjoy exploring the show with them – amazing after six years of turning these scenes over and over.

Credit must go to our amazing producers Almali and Mariana – who, as Andrew often said, showed that the spirit of a company comes from the top: how a team is treated defines how well a show goes.  And we were treated as honored guests, something that I will be eternally grateful for.  Our Resident Director Tania is gifted in the skills of discipline, diplomacy and direction – I have no doubt she held the focus of that room so that our team could make this show happen, almost unaware of the fact that we spoke different languages.

I am very lucky that I get to work on a show in these countries with these amazing teams, and that I get to spend so much time with the core team of Simon, Andrew and Natalie, three people who are as good a friends as you could ask for, and happen to be stationed with me across the world on this show.  We got to share experiences like the famed Carnaval, where the city shut down for five days and the parade exploded at the Sambadromo, going to Rio, one of the most enchanting cities in the world, going to Buenos Aires and soaking in the culture of this globally booming country.  

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Carnaval!

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Ipanema.

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Watching tango in a plaza in BA.

How did the show go?  We played a week of previews and performances to outstanding audiences, so loud that your ears sometimes hurt.  Our first two shows were for a charity were underprivileged families got free tickets, people who’d never seen live theatre before, let alone a show with such gargantuan production values.  They were timid to start but roaring by the end.  Opening night was another flawless show – the cast always delivered exceptionally moving performances, and that night was no exception.  I miss every one of them a great deal.  In this country, more than any other, I realised how likely it was that I may never see them again, such a difficult thought to process after sharing their lives and stories on the floor for two months.  Rehearsing a show about what it is to be different, to long for love and acceptance means that you talk about a lot of things that matter to you, that make you vulnerable.  It was a hard night saying goodbye at the final party, thinking, well South America is just not a place I’ll be popping by much in my life.

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The team on opening night.

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Four of my favourite men in the world. Well, three, and one boy.

And you leave so quickly.  We all had work to get back to – the show opened Friday night, the party started at 1am and by 5am we were on our way to the airport, so that Simon and Andy could get to the first day of Officer and a Gentleman rehearsals and I could get to Josie in the Bathhouse down at the Spiegeltent.  

What happens next for Priscilla?  No-one knows for sure.  There are the three productions running as I write this – Broadway, Milan and Sao Paulo.  They got raves in Brasil and the show is selling out – I hope they run a whole year then move to Rio – they really deserve it.  But when I next get back on the pink bus is anyone’s guess – it could be as soon as the second half of the year…or never.  Brasil was very much a time of celebration, but also of reflection – of how far this one show has taken me around the world and as a person.  I have been extraordinarily lucky and Brasil, for me, was the icing on the cupcake.  Saude.

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A brilliant opening night party.

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