By Mama Natalia,
Let’s not beat around the bush, I’ve seen a lot of burlesque in the last twenty years – the good, the badass and the ugly, and Swamplesque (Trigger Happy Productions), playing in it’s final VIC season as part of the Melbourne International Comedy Festival, spectacularly managed to embody all three of these things in that beautiful “what the fuck did I just watch?” way that not many shows these days can achieve.
The good was obvious from the get-go. Bathed in the heady glow of strategically green lighting, the hall was abuzz with festival goers of all persuasions – from industry darlings and divas to the boys from down the pub, tenderqueers and intellectuals, and quite a few nervous types looking about as if they’d accidentally wandered into some exotic kind of sex club and were afraid someone from the office would catch them there. Clutching our canned alcoholic beverages (ah Straya), we awaited the oncoming onslaught in excited anticipation – bopping along in our seats to an equally clever 90s and Naughties playlist that was obviously designed to tweak the nipples of nostalgia.
Beginning with a tongue-in-cheek but necessary copyright disclaimer to prevent everyone onstage from getting sued, the show itself kicked off with creator Trigger Happy as Shrek, front and centre and bathed in glorious green spotlights as he hit the ground running, riling up the crowd with razor-sharp comic timing and a burlesque act played for fun and laughs. And laugh they did, some in hilarity and horror, most in delighted appreciation of the spectacle. It set the mood and tone for the entire production, and the revelry it aroused in its audience lasted well into the evening.
Structurally, Swamplesque followed the plot of the 2001 Dreamworks animated film, with frequent movie soundbytes littered throughout to form the bulk of the narrative. The premise of the parody was simple, unfolding like a perverted panto with each new act, the adults-only take on the well-known script serving to enhance the comedic elements for the crowd. It was in no way complicated, nor did it take itself too seriously – both of which worked brilliantly in its favour.
The badass came in the form of its seasoned stars, particularly Australia’s “grande dame of drag and cabaret,” the inimitable Tash York (Princess Fiona), whose soaring and crystalline vocals brought a touch of the sublime to the swamp. Burlesque favourite Tugboat Tiffy (The Gingerbread Man) stole the show with a perfectly choreographed and expertly executed strip number, and Nolens Volens gave great face throughout. Taking on the challenging role of Lord Farquaad, burlesque artist Rainbow excelled and was thoroughly entertaining even when things didn’t seem to go exactly as planned. The entire cast appeared to be having a raucously good time, and the cacophony of camp chaos was delivered with an irreverent joy that was catching.
Production-wise the show was mostly spot-on, despite being relatively prop-lite. Costumes were beautifully designed and delicately detailed, make-up was suitably de-rigeur, and careful planning had obviously gone into both the lighting choices and the soundtrack – each act was performed to music that made sense (this does not happen as often as one would think), with a few unexpected throwbacks that brought whoops of delight and a few sporadic singalongs from the crowd. The stage itself, although quite large, was well used by the cast, who had no trouble filling the space with the sheer force of their personalities and the scope of their performances. It was only the excessive use of audio clips from the movie that seemed a double edged sword at times. While wonderful for rubbing that nostalgia nub and making for some scarily spot-on lip sync moments, it left a rather large gap in the production where a traditional MC might have been. Given the charm and immeasurable likeability of its players (looking at you Tash and Trigger), it was almost a shame not to give the actual cast the opportunity for some sporadic audience interaction and dialogue. There was a distinct lack of warmth to some of the soundbyte heavy segments that any of the cast could have easily remedied with a wink and a microphone.
The ugly was mostly a matter of taste – or bad taste in this instance. Heavy on innuendo, the show bordered on the wrong side of crass too often for my liking, not because there was anything inherently wrong with any of the vulgar gestures that peppered the production, but because there are only so many times one can see someone flicking their tongue, pantomiming oral sex and rubbing their nipples and genitals at the crowd before it starts to get tedious, eventually seeming more like a performative crutch to lean on than a creative gimmick designed to delight. Sometimes a little goes a much longer way, and each and every performer on that stage was too ridiculously talented to have to pretend to suck dick quite as much as they did over the course of the evening. That being said – and considering the title of the show was a thematic giveaway – as a bawdy and unapologetic piece of filthy theatre, Swamplesque more than delivered. It was wonderfully body positive and made no excuses for its existence, daring the audience to come (ha!) on its dirty little ride.
Filling the Melbourne Town Hall is no small feat, doubly so for fringe arts like burlesque and drag without a Dita or Ru Paul budget behind them. The fact that Trigger Happy and his band of misfits have done so with Swamplesque night after night (and for quite a few nights across a good many cities before this) is a testament to the hard work and dedication of the entire cast and crew. This is clearly a passion project – a naughty, salacious project that delivers all the fun, fantasy and a lot more fellatio than the original source material. It is a perfect example of what happens when a bunch of really clever and skilled artists get together to create something they love, and the results are thoroughly enjoyable.
