MUSICAL THEATRE
The Grinning Man ★★★
Alex Theatre St Kilda, until May 19

From Batman’s nemesis, The Joker, to the hero of this new musical, there are few tropes crueller than the character whose face has been disfigured into a permanent smile. The idea owes its origin to Victor Hugo’s novel The Man Who Laughs, adapted in The Grinning Man into an unstable fusion of dark panto and alt-Disney romantic fantasy.

In this faux-medieval world, our antagonist and guide is a misanthropic jester (Jennifer Vuletic) to a despotic king; our hero is the tormented young Grinpayne (Maxwell Simon).

Disfigured as a child in an incident he cannot remember, Grinpayne gets adopted by a father-figure (Dom Hennequin) suffering a tragic loss of his own. Their found family is completed by a blind girl, Dea (Luisa Scufani), who – you guessed it – becomes a love interest.

They make ends meet by exhibiting Grinpayne’s mutilated visage at a wandering freak show, but soon become involved in royal intrigues that unravel the mystery behind the disfigurement.

When the tyrant king chokes on a pig’s trotter and dies, eccentric Queen Angelica (Stephanie Astrid John) succeeds him and makes serious changes to the law of the realm.

Meanwhile, the new queen’s incestuous siblings (Anthony Craig and Melanie Bird) discover Grinpayne’s show and become obsessed by him, at length revealing our hero’s true identity and backstory.

There’s plenty to like in this production. Vuletic has form when it comes to comic baddies.

She played the child-hating Baroness Bomburst in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang to acclaim, and her bitter clown here twists the charismatic exaggerations of a pantomime villain into a savage strand of carnival, perhaps a ghoulish gesture to the theatrical tradition – commedia dell’arte – that lies underneath panto.

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Craig, Bird and John all bring cartoonish parody to the debauched and deranged royal court, and theatre design and costume create a sense of dark fairytale.

Unfortunately, as written, the romantic leads are tragically underdeveloped. They’re ciphers who sing very well and can enchant the ear with romantic duets, but lack chemistry or much genuine character development.

Honestly, the lovers in Shrek the Musical have more psychological depth, and it doesn’t help that the first half of the show is an expositional mess, with muddled storytelling and a pace that … well, it’s a slow burn.

The Grinning Man is still an intriguing new musical that serves up comic and vocal highlights and, despite its weaknesses, musical theatre fans should be pleased at the chance to see it live.
Reviewed by Cameron Woodhead

MUSIC
Jane Austen’s Music ★★★★
Melbourne Recital Centre, May 4

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that good music shared in good company equates to the possession of a good fortune. And indeed, it was the great, good fortune of those assembled on Saturday afternoon at the Melbourne Recital Centre to see the Elisabeth Murdoch Hall stage transformed into a setting recalling the Georgian assembly rooms of Jane Austen’s time, festooned with red velvet curtains and an impressive chandelier.

Such a spectacle delighted the Janeites or Janiacs (as Austen’s admirers call themselves), some of whom even dressed up as their favourite characters: most took inspiration from Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Sadly, there was a dearth of dashing Mr Darcys, and the imperious Lady Catherine de Bourgh was conspicuous by her absence.

Lizzy Bennet’s Band, a group of well-known local musicians under the enthusiastic direction of violinist Rachael Beesley, provided an entertaining 70-minute selection of music connected with the author.

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This included works by Mozart (for whom we know Austen had a special affection), Handel, Beethoven and Purcell, together with dance music of the day and latter-day film scores, most notably Carl Davis’ signature music for the 1995 BBC production of Pride and Prejudice.

In addition to acting as piano soloist, Aura Go provided some knowing but light-hearted commentary that did not outstay its welcome. Go’s primary contribution was to finish the program with a delicate and ruminative account of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No.21 in C (K. 467), where the slow movement was once upon a time best known from the 1967 Swedish movie Elvira Madigan.

Notwithstanding the one glaring anachronism on stage – a modern Steinway grand, which was thankfully tamed by Go’s sensitivity – this innovative piece of programming, backed up by zestful playing and appropriate production values proved a hit with a potential new audience catchment for the Melbourne Recital Centre.
Reviewed by Tony Way

MUSIC
Jaime Conducts Enigma Variations ★★★★
Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, Melbourne Town Hall, May 3

Jaime Martin’s somewhat overdue Melbourne Town Hall debut as Melbourne Symphony Orchestra chief conductor was tinged with sadness, as the concert memorialised his recently deceased predecessor, Sir Andrew Davis. Davis, however, would have revelled in the program of popular, contrasting English classics: Vaughan Williams’ The Lark Ascending sandwiched between two sets of variations (Benjamin Britten’s The Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra and Edward Elgar’s Enigma Variations).

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Acting associate concertmaster Tair Khisambeev rendered the violin solo of the Williams classic with eloquent, expressive restraint; his sweet and limpid tone perfectly matched for this touching score, which was well paced by Martin, empathetically assisted by guest concertmaster Vesa-Matti Leppanen.

Both sets of variations reveal an ingenious mastery of orchestration, often deployed to very different, humorous effects. Martin and the orchestra brought plenty of brio to Britten’s quirky concerto for orchestra based on a Rondeau from Purcell’s incidental music to the 1676 play Abdelazer. Infectious good humour pervaded the performance, spilling over into a vivacious account of the final fugue, against which Purcell’s tune appears with uplifting grandiloquence. Despite its title, this is a work of genius that appeals to listeners of all ages, as this account tellingly proved.

Martin gave a short, witty talk illustrated by musical examples about the Elgar piece, before giving it a reading which accentuated colour, energy and musical architecture. Guest principal viola Tom Chawner acquitted himself well in his various solos, most notably in the sixth, while principal cello David Berlin excelled in the 12th. Undergirded by the enormous strength of the Town Hall organ, the finale hit its mark, also prompting Martin to express his desire to program more works with organ in the venue. A reprise of the famous Nimrod variation in honour of Davis set the seal on a fine tribute to his distinguished career.
Reviewed by Tony Way

DANCE
Hold Me Closer Tony Danza ★★★★
Monash Performing Arts Centre, until May 3

Contemporary dance in Melbourne was a lot more exciting when Gold Coast-based company The Farm premiered a 20-minute version of this rousing comic rhapsody at the Keir Choreographic Award in 2020.

Since then, presenters have cancelled not one, but two large-scale dance festivals. The long-running Dance Massive was put on the shelf in 2020 and the flash-in-the-pan Frame Biennial disappeared in 2023 after only one outing.

Now the Keir Choreographic Award, which was one of the richest performing arts prizes in the country, is also kaput. Its demise, as is so often the way in Australia, has caused barely a ripple in the arts sector.

It is, in short, a time of uneasiness in the world of contemporary dance. Morale is low. Activity is low. No wonder this beautifully produced show seems like a warm ray of Queensland exuberance in the vacant autumnal gloom.

Hold Me Closer Tony Danza is a free-form medley of images and symbols of division and unity. It’s also loaded with a grab bag of theatre gags, including fake endings, improvised role playing, audience dress-ups and a daggy dance battle.

The audience participation – of which there is plenty – culminates with the two dancers, Kate Harman and Oli Mathieson, bouncing around like auteur Easter bunnies, trying to wrap more-or-less compliant audience members in gold foil.

Perhaps this sounds too much like artists playing games with themselves, but there are also extended sections of finely crafted abstract dance, including a lengthy conclusion in which opposing movement styles are gradually brought together.

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Whether it’s true that all divisions in the world can be traced back to misunderstandings such as a misheard song lyric – which is one way of interpreting this piece – Hold Me Closer nonetheless has an irresistible prankster vivacity.

And it’s more than welcome when so little contemporary dance can be seen in Melbourne’s theatres.
Reviewed by Andrew Fuhrmann

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