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The ensemble cast of Mr Burns: A Post-Electric Play play
a company of actors re-telling The Simpson's "Cape Feare"
Photo: Sarah Walker |
How well do remember the episode of
The Simpsons where Sideshow Bob gets out of jail and tries to
murder Bart? If you needed to tell the story, could you? Do you remember any of
the jokes or set-pieces? How about the film references contained within?
In the first act of Mr
Burns: A Post-Electric Play, a group of survivors in a post-Apocalyptic America
gather together around a fire, trying to remember the details of “Cape Feare”,
the second episode of the fifth season of The
Simpsons, which first aired in 1993 and has been replayed thousands of
times since.
The grid is offline, nuclear power-plants have melted down,
and in the weeks and months after this world-wide disaster, people are telling
stories to pass the time and to connect with each other. This is and isn’t
people telling ghost stories around a fire; the details are important, and this
TV show is haunting them.
Telling stories and passing them on is a recurring trope in
fiction about the end of the world. Beyond survival, people want to remember
the world that has come before and recount the stories they remember from childhood.
But in the early twenty-first century, we aren’t trying to piece together The Odyssey or a childhood tale like The Faraway Tree, we are putting pop
culture back together and resurrecting the seminal work of Matt Groening.
“Cape Feare” is itself a parody of the 1991 film Cape Fear, which is a remake of the 1962
film of the same name – based on the novel The
Executioners by John D. Macdonald. And this episode doesn’t just reference
this lineage, it sketches in nods to another film starring Robert Mitchum (lead
actor in the original and a cameo in the 1991 film), Night of the Hunter.
The survivors are trying to piece together an episode of
television that is already pieces of other broken narratives. The world has
ended and nothing quite fits together anymore. And even as they have established
a routine and precautions, these people are on edge – who knows the loyalties
of other survivors when they approach their camp. As fun as references to The Simpsons are, there is a palpable
dread by the firelight.
Lightning Jar Theatre have a reputation for solid
productions of recent plays that might not find their way onto Melbourne’s main
stages. After Stupid Fucking Bird and
Venus in Furs, they have turned their
focus to a meta-theatrical wonder that is about storytelling and inheritance;
about culture and cultural capital. It’s a gem of a play by Anne Washburn.
Act one meets your expectations; this is a kind of
story-telling comfort food. Washburn picks a show many of us know and an
episode that is considered a classic. As Matt (Dylan Watson) tries his best to
re-enact something most of us are vaguely familiar with, we’re with these
characters around a campfire – a classic storytelling setting – but it’s a fire
in a barrel, which is a touchstone image for the end-of-the-world.
As you might expect from The
Stand or The Walking Dead, an
approaching stranger is the key narrative driver in this first scene. Does he
bring salvation or death? Does he bring news of the rest of the world or the
Sideshow Bob punchline that Matt has been looking for?
Act two is seven years later and stories are things to trade
and sell. The survivors are now a theatre company. Yes, The Simpsons episodes are the headline act, but there’s also a kick-arse
montage of music-video moves – and ads trying to sell the hope that you might
find a can of Diet Coke out there somewhere.
Here Emma Choy’s Colleen is in charge as the director of the
ensemble. She’s struggling with how to build frivolous entertainment in a world
where everything has portent and meaning. Years after the fall of civilisation,
is it time for people to start wanting things again? Petty jealousies are starting
to spring up and this feels much like the world getting back on its feet, but
darkness still lurks at the fringes.
Act three is much further into the future and the theatre is
transformed into something otherworldly. As the survivors become more and more
disconnected from the earth that was, the snippets of story and memory, dream
and music video are mashed-up to a point where characters take on the mantle of
the iconic and the sacred.
In this post-electric world, the central form of dramatic
art becomes theatre again. With film and television gone, people are telling
stories in the only ways they can; each act adding more and more theatrical
devices to the mix.
Under the superb direction of John Kachoyan, Mr Burns is a celebration of theatre
itself – and watching the evolution of that throughout the production is quite
stunning. There’s an assured focus in act one, warmly and effectively lit by
Richard Vabre. Dylan Watson’s Matt is strong as the central figure here, the
other survivors supporting him as he tells a story they’ve seen and heard
before.
Act two’s rolling sets by Sophie Woodward bring us into the
world of repertory theatre, her costumes alluding to The Simpsons but faded because of memory and twisted due to
post-Apocalyptic budget restraints. Julie Grenda’s choreography takes centre
stage late in the piece, showcasing dance moves that will outlive us all.
Lightning Jar’s ensemble of actors impresses in a section
that is more animated and comical than the first. Victory Ndukwe’s quiet restraint
in act one gives way to moments of hilarity here. Mark Yeates brings the kind
of cackling joy you expect from Sideshow Bob. But Emma Choy is the standout
here – giving us a real sense of trying to keep things together, even as she
doesn’t understand how these plays fit into the world anymore.
While the cast is strong overall, though some of their
American accents are shaky, especially early on. Perhaps they relaxed into it,
maybe my ears did, but it was a pity this was such a problem. I often think
that eschewing accents is better than bad ones, but for this particular play it
might have presented other problems if we’d heard these lines in ‘Strayan.
I felt the length of the play a couple of times; the long transition
into act two made it feel like the show was starting again once the lights were
back up. And while the third act is striking visually, and the threads do draw
together neatly, it doesn’t reach the apotheosis the script is aiming for. The
play evolves into a musical, but the production doesn’t quite nail all the required
elements – though Woodward’s costumes are stunning.
Andrew Patterson’s musical direction is wonderful, but some
of the actors struggle with the songs. I had trouble hearing some of the lyrics
– which is not a problem I had with dialogue earlier in the show.
There are a lot of great ideas in Washburn’s play and it’s a
striking story about telling stories. Lightning Jar Theatre’s production might
be a little rough around the edges, but when it works, it works – I just wish I
had engaged with it more after interval. I’d heard a lot of great things about
this play from when it was produced in New York and Los Angeles and Sydney. I
guess sometimes hearing tales of how great something is over and over might set
expectations too high.
But sometimes you have to see that story told for yourself,
because hearing about it is not enough.
