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Apocalypse Bear Trilogy
Presented by:
A Stuck Pigs Squealing Theatre Production presented
by Melbourne Theatre Company in association with Melbourne
International Arts Festival
Date
Reviewed:
9 October, 2009
Venue:
The MTC Theatre, Lawler Studio
Reviewer:
Adam Rafferty
Photo's: Jeff
Busby
The
MTC’s new Lawler Studio is the perfect venue for hosting a Melbourne
International Arts Festival production. It’s compact, black and open
to interpretation – and the same can be said about Apocalypse
Bear Trilogy. Put together by Stuck Pigs Squealing Theatre and
written by Lally Katz, a regular contributor of the company’s
scripts, this dark and surreal play is something completely
different to the first two productions to make use of the Lawler.
 As
the name suggests this is a play made up of three parts, all
featuring the eponymous Apocalypse Bear and all sharing a rather
dark undertone. In the first part, the rather offensively titled
The Fag from Zagreb, Luke Mullins plays Jeremy, a teenager home
from school who is greeted by the Apocalypse Bear, rather than his
mother as expected. As the bear, played by Brian Lipson in full
teddy bear suit, probes Jeremy about his day and prepares his
after-school snack, we learn that the boy is engaged in an online
relationship with a homosexual and suicidal man in Croatia.
Mullins and Lipson co-direct this piece and work well together to
squeeze out both the humour and dark undercurrent of this odd scene.
Jeremy is presented convincingly as a self-interested, upper-crust
schoolboy from the ‘right’ part of town, in a well-observed
portrayal by Mullins. The bear creates an unnerving sense of ease
and menace simultaneously, thanks to Lipson’s well-judged delivery
and body language. As conversation turns to Jeremy’s path home
through the woods, things become dark and surreal.
In
Back to the Cafeteria, Katherine Tonkin joins the Apocalypse
Bear as Sonya – a schoolgirl struggling to fit into classroom
cliques and manage the playground social structure. After a
meal-swap with the bear (and a cute little bit of physical comedy)
she is counselled by her plush companion and things get even darker
and more surreal. Lipson does an astonishing job of managing to work
his way through a meal in a bear suit and Tonkin sings an
unexpected, yet sweet song about love gone wrong, as we are taken
further into the woods. Tonkin’s delivery of the quirky humour in
the piece isn’t as successful as that of her counterparts – perhaps
suggesting that being the only performer not directing the piece
could have had an adverse effect on the result.
Finally, Mullins and Tonkin come together as an adult couple in
At Last, a bedroom scene where the pair discuss their
relationship – including how they share out the housework – and
their dreams, or perhaps more appropriately, their nightmares. As
Tonkin describes a particularly bizarre dream, the couple’s bedroom
opens up and we are again transported into the metaphorical woods
where Sonya’s fears are perhaps justified when the bear once more
appears.
Jethro Woodward as Sound Designer and Composer adds a startlingly
atmospheric soundscape to the story with his eerie underscoring and
jangly scene change music, which when combined with the sensory
deprivation of a total and complete blackout is something quite
extraordinary. Richard Vabre’s strobe lighting through these
sequences adds to the sense of foreboding and his excellent dappled
forest lighting and pinpoint spots in the final story are quite
beautiful.
Sets
for the first two stories are constructed almost entirely by
slow-moving video projection, designed by Martyn Coutts, and are
combined with simple furniture; while the final story starts in the
same fashion, before the stage is opened up completely by the
removal of wings and tabs while Sonya describes her nightmare. Mel
Page’s design makes the Lawler Studio feel surprisingly large and
appropriately barren for the final scene. Page has also designed the
costumes, which are almost cute without exception, and further helps
to make things that extra bit creepy.
Rather confusingly, the adult characters share the names and traits
of the earlier seen child characters, yet other aspects of their
timelines don’t add up, which hints to Katz making an unsuccessful
attempt at a linear storyline. For example, it’s easy to find
messages that suggest the Apocalypse Bear is the bringer of death or
doom upon school-age Jeremy and Sonya in their nightmarishly
evocative scenes. Perhaps Jeremy never successfully made it home,
perhaps Sonya put trust in someone she shouldn’t have despite the
family password, or maybe even the fish burger spelled her doom.
However, those suggestions don’t make sense under the scrutiny of
the third story, let alone the wibbly-wobbly timeline provided.
Furthermore, adult Sonya’s nightmare also suggests she may no longer
be walking the mortal plane and creates even more puzzlement.
But
perhaps I’m trying to scrutinise things too closely. Observed on a
surface level, Apocalypse Bear Trilogy is a sometimes
charming, mostly bewildering entertainment that will suit those who
don’t feel the need to completely understand what they’re watching.
For those who prefer their theatre less avant-garde and easier to
make sense of - this isn’t for you. I think I fall somewhere in
between, but even so, it’s still possible to discern that as a
surrealist artwork, Apocalypse Bear Trilogy is only
marginally successful.
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