By Jennifer Beasley.
Brilliant writing presents a bittersweet flashback to the Noughties with pumping music and a sleepover party that uncovers the dark places that dwell within us all.
Is Anyone Even Watching? The title itself is ironic and encapsulates the humour of writer and performer Olivia Muscat. A children’s novelist, drama teacher, disability activist as well as a theatre critic (so I better watch my P’s and T’s-or Plots and Themes) Muscat owns whatever space she performs in. In this case it is the fantastic Arts House in North Melbourne, that continues to nourish and enrich the community it serves.
Muscat, blind since birth, has written a deeply personal play that addresses the thematic concerns of her blindness. Dressed up in a K-Pop extreme of sparkly pink, she delivers soul piecing observations, softened by disco lights, stuffed toys, party games and, you guessed it, loads of Pink! Super! So, let’s dive into this sleepover and have some fun.
The set itself is one of the most authentic odes to a girl’s bedroom since I left my daughter’s bedroom this evening. Pink curtains, pink cushions, fairy lights, overstuffed wardrobes bursting with clothes and a general odour of pink. I was in heaven. I think my male companion had some adjusting to do.
The other performer, Sighted Girl (SG) a squealing giggling performance by best friend Zoe Boegen, (an astounding performer herself who has previously worked with Muscat in Risky Business) adds a steady counterpoint to Muscat’s sleepover character. With a joyous opening, two girls jumping and singing to a pop song, the audience is immediately entranced and brought into this sleepover world as fellow party goers. But this is Muscat’s party, and what she says, goes.
Using voice overs as Muscat’s inner dialogue (all dialogue is screened above the set), a clever click of her fingers changes the narration from the mundane to the pages from a bad romance, we are introduced to a hyper positive ‘girl’ who puts all other pink devotees to shame. I call it a bad romance as it’s interesting that this voice is male, and the purple prose only adds to the humour of this other ‘Muscat’.
A tonal shift and the party ramps up. It’s pass the parcel time! More pop music blasts out as the audience oohs and ahs at their ‘gifts’ but there is also a message attached. Muscat uses this conceit three times during the play. It is clever, both as a scene break and a sub-plot with the ‘gifts’ as questions. Seemingly random but she is asking the audience to think. A bad hair day, or a dreadful costume? But that’s not what she is really asking.
With snippets of information thrown into the mix, Muscat has had 9 years of piano lessons, the vocal talents of Delta Goodrum, blackouts with dance move subtitles as Muscat speaks them and ruminations of Muscat’s own singing abilities, we start to wind down from the highs of a pool party to deeper levels.
In a brilliant piece of theatre, the two girls play dress ups. SG decides that Muscat should change her clothes into something that matches. Then, without asking, clears up the lipstick smudges on Muscat’s face. As SG leaves, Muscat moves forward and stands. Her dejection and despair, standing in silence, is gut wrenching.
Then the voice over kicks in. But not the positive overview. When Muscat clicks her fingers, the inner thoughts remain mundane. Then, Muscat’s own voice overlaps. We experience her true fears. She questions her confidence.
The play shifts again as Muscat, after turning the tables on SG, and stating what she really wants, allows the performer to discuss the way people infantise her. Never talking to her but above, down and across you. And how tempering yourself to take care of other people’s feelings is exhausting.
We travel with Muscat through these layers. The core values she is addressing that denigrates and minimises her as a human, the intense fear that her blindness triggers in people, the boxing of her personage, the unacceptable behaviour of people sighted or not, and the general ‘othering’ that so many people experience, regardless of race, sex, physical ability and culture.
However, Muscat refuses to bow. Standing tall, she is unashamedly proud of who she is.
With a final pass the parcel (I won a badge, which states- Rock Your Body! Yah!) and a dance, Muscat delivers a beauty of a finale. Which I’ll keep under wraps to protect the magic of the show.
A beautiful use of the Thematic Square in Muscat’s writing allows a true exploration on ableist stereotypes, identity and societal expectations also encompasses identity. (Sorry, nerdy me broke through there).
Muscat has primed the audience. Now, what is the question? More importantly, what is your answer?
Outstanding direction from Liv Satchell means timing is tight, even though the show ran over by ten minutes from the stated 60 minutes, everyone was having too much fun to care! Great sound work by Sharyn Brand (rocking music choice) and the cool lighting from Bronwyn Pringle adds that sparkly zip de rigour to any self-respecting sleep over. Production by Laura Hook and co-designers Brook Painter and Kiara Brown really pulls off the 2000’s look and feel. Also produced by Hannah Reekie.
I’ll also give a nod to the great meal we had around the corner at The Leveson hotel and how well the lovely staff Sunday and Archie treated us. After discussing this show with them I hope they become patron of the Arts House. Community building takes effort, and performances like Muscat are too important not to share.
I could say so much more about the world premiere of this Melbourne Fringe production but I’m sadly at my word limit. I’m so glad I was able to attend on the final day of this show.
Final summation? I give Is Anyone Even Watching? A sparkly five pink stars out of five!
