“Theatre is an event.” One of several memorable quotes I jotted down during this enlightening tete-a-tete in the Concert Hall down at Bennelong Point. One might add, an event which upon finishing insisted all the patrons scram immediately to their respective car-parks, since the bar was not open for post-conversation-conversations between those of us whose minds had been set alight by various notions of freedom, conservatism, privacy, journalism and Utopian thought. Shame, since the crowd was of candid and curious minds, familiar faces from across the sector filled the foyer, fascinated by the breadth and lightness of Stoppardian wisdom; might have turned the event into a true happening if we had been allowed to carry on these many thought-threads struck up by the master wordsmith in the short space of an hour with change…

Small controversies notwithstanding (see storm-in-a-speakup regarding SOH’s apparent marginalisation of journalists as interviewers) we discovered an interesting tid-bit of insight into the character of the man when he alluded to the conversation between artist and audience in the following (with apologies for any paraphrasing):

“Now the audience looks at a piece of art and says ‘I could do that’ – and the artist replies ‘Yes, you could, but you didn’t, and I did’ … *cue laughter*”

What struck me was how Sir Stoppard, when adopting the voice to portray the artist, spoke in a sort of faux-Eastern-European-accent. Perhaps he meant to mimic the voice of Tzara in Travesties – the quintessential artist as writ by Sir Stoppard for the theatre – or perhaps there was a deeper underlying subtext we can draw out. Is the artist this exotic outsider, trapped in the body of a social conservative?

I am reminded in reflection of the moment in Stanislavski’s Building a Character, when Constantin creates this theatrical version of his inner critic without knowing who or what he is making until he has finished. The tone of Sir Stoppard’s inner artist’s voice rings true amid the formalised monitored vocalisations of the man In Conversation, for which each word seems carefully but casually chosen, each sentence laid out like impenetrable brickwork, a structured kind of wisdom, thought-through and monumental, difficult to see all-at-once.

But for me, despite all the ideas of interest and illumination – this one moment of clarity was the highlight – the briefest of glimpses into the character of the man himself.

My notes were copious and I will follow up with some further discussions of some of the more salient thoughts brought to bear in a belated post-show conversation we never got to have.

Adaptations
All the rage, it’s been a creeping, steady growth of remix versions of the classic text for years now. New translations have become entirely new scripts writ “after” the original. At least one major theatre company is counting these as “new Australian works” in their marketing, but the controversy continues over authorship as other industry figures will dismiss these reworked scripts as “covers”. It becomes a matter of degrees of separation; exactly how far from the classic text do we need to go before we can say it’s our own? CAGELING (2010) springs to mind as a work that is its own unique end of the spectrum, while acknowledging the work by Federico Garcia Lorca the piece held its own physical theatre presence to confront the audience in lieu of dialogue. And at least they changed the title so we know it’s not pretending to be anything other than itself. But the tide is settling across the odd middle-ground where we can’t quite tell who wrote the thing. Who owns it (apart from the audience)… We aren’t saying if this is good or bad, just how it is, so keep an eye on the season programs, and let ye who casts the first stone be without fault…

Blogging
Speaking of throwing rocks… bigger, angrier, smarter, meaner, more insightful and just good old fashioned bitchy. Theatre weblogs are proliferating and the discussion expands, audiences participate and gradually, production houses start to take notice. Far too long have the publicity trains been in the sponsor and marketers’ pockets, so it’s no surprise the major theatre companies have resisted a thorough public conversation about the work – but whether we agree with the writers or not, whether we find the commentary useful, insightful, ridiculous, funny or just plain shit –we are talking on your play and we are very much here to stay.

Celebrity
Casting is becoming as much about selling tickets as it is about talent. Some have earned it, others do little other than a few comfortable years in television before swanning into the best roles. Not mentioning any names…

Dance
We are glad to see more experimental and physical works coming into ‘traditional’ theatre spaces. Kudos to Company B for introducing their audience base to something different. Also keep an eye on the Performance Space program and fringe groups like StageJuice and Freshly Squeezed for the more outside-the-box works in the Sydney subcultures.

Each and every one of you…
Love.

Free Tickets
Keep your eyes open! There are always freebies on offer if you know where to look.

Globalisation
The tug-of-war between supply, demand, import and export is felt in the performing arts as in every industry, but the localised nature of production makes for a uniquely difficult impasse. What it comes down to is the amount of top-quality artists willing to come and work on our stages (and who wouldn’t) – the STC offering something of a vanguard for the offshore director to stake a claim – and what exciting kinds of theatre are we getting as a result? Very exciting is what.

Naturally as this continues the funding bodies will adjust their funding structures accordingly so that our international guests aren’t taking precious Australia Council dollars away from local artists. Won’t they? I personally don’t have a problem with high calibre directors and performers working down at Hickson Rd, so long there’s an increase in local theatre production funding relative to the expanse of the international game. The Arts is a global industry, no doubt there, and we are (slowly) coming to terms with the idea that we can hold our own. But we need more room to breathe if we want to our own global artists to be able to reciprocate.

Haters
The flipside of the online proliferation of theatre comment (See B – Blogging) is the amount of trolling and nastiness that comes with. It’s enough to make a Critic Watcher hang up his binoculars as variations on thoughtless, hackneyed responses self-propagate across our screens. Check the comments section of Promptside’s review of The Economist for an inkling of the degree of vitriol abounding – it’s a lesson in how to look like a complete imbecile by saying nothing of value. Notably the creative’s responses are comparatively level headed – it shows the impact of giving comments serious thought before pressing *send*…

Indigenous Work
A few years ago John Ralston Saul spoke at the Sydney Writers Festival about the importance of tapping into collective stories and that the use of Indigenous languages was a critical component of our development as a storytelling nation… He said it much more eloquently than we do but over the years the rising profile of the First Australians in theatre has been steady and impressive; most recently Bloodland, spoken in traditional languages and resonating with all the cadences of contemporary Aboriginal theatre shows a willingness to recognise and embrace this part of Australian culture in the mainstream creative community that is essential to us taking a position in the world of theatre that is our own place. More.

Je ne sais quoi (I don’t know what)
Who Does? There is always a surprise in the air for the audience member or actor willing to take a shot on an unknown company, writer, a new play that gets overlooked by all the critics, always something special to be found in one of the nooks our city offers for creative, curious souls.

Kafkaesque
Trust me. Every half-baked critic worth the price of a complimentary glass of sparkling will be using this word to describe a piece of theatre that is slightly strange or absurd. It sounds so damned literary doesn’t it!

Libel
Seems like food writers can be sued for bad reviews, it’s only a matter of time before someone passes the buck over to blame the unsuspecting critic for box office losses… But then someone would have to take them seriously first.

Marginality, mediocrity and masturbation (more of the same)
Thank you, Peter Craven for highlighting everything that is wrong with your work. Oh wait, you were talking about art. Never mind. I must have missed the wanking scene in Baal…

Nepotism!
IF YOU CAN’T BEAT ‘EM…

Opening Ceremony
Sport = Theatre + populism… Bring on London!

Penis
We tried graphing the *ahem* rise in phallic occurrences on Sydney stages this year and it was *cough* exponential.

Questions?
Please wait until the end. I will answer them in due course.

Revue
Still the funniest, most politically acute show I have seen in a long time. Bring on 2012 for Federal Follies…

SANCZ
Yes. I am a trend for next year. Get used to it.

Twitter
We’d like to see more leading theatre figures on this excellent microblogging platform. Everybody else is! Really, if you aren’t tweeting you’re missing half the real-time discussions and one cannot claim to have one’s finger on the pulse if it’s gently massaging the rectal passages of them who do the talking for you…

Understatement
I thank Ms TN for this marvellous take on Bolt/Breivik in her recent review of The Economist:

“his contempt for evidence is symptomatic of an endemic toxicity in political discourse that itself produces delusion.”

Take THAT, fascist! I haven’t seen the play yet but honestly, I couldn’t have said it myself. We can only hope the power of the written word is as good for good as it is for evil.

Venues
More alternative spaces. Actually we need a decent mid-size theatre that’s open for independent producers.

Women
I’m sure it’s nothing unusual but there are a lot of women in theatre making waves right now. Soon they’ll be allowed to own property as well…

Xenophilia
(see G – Globalisation) We do love a good overseas company touring. Especially when they bring their own green laser pointers…

Young, upwardly mobile professionals
AKA New Audiences. I know how to reach them. Do you?

Zounds!
Archaic references in King Lear float my whistle. Watch this space.

That’s a wrap… Send me any thoughts or ideas for what you think are the touchstones of twenty-twelve. I welcome all comments!

Not that the loathsome crimes depicted are too far removed from similar plotlines cued up each week on episodes of SVU or CSI: Miami – only here, instead of the slick jump cuts the horrors of sexual violence are shown in the kind of extreme forensic detail only theatre can provide. No wonder people want to look away. No wonder they walk out. Because it is a cruel trick to let someone think they are coming to watch Shakespeare; only to shatter that illusion by giving up a grisly sequence of ritualistic assaults and murders strung together by the odd bit of iambic pentameter. But then that’s what Elizabethan theatre was for the most part; bloody revenge tragedies. In 16C though, one can imagine groundlings cheering with every hacked limb, their voices outstripping the finer points of any poetry the Bard may have thought to add into varied dialogues on moral justice (for example). No groundlings at this venue. Certainly no-one cheering the rape of Lavinia. “This is his worst play” someone quipped behind me at half-time. Of course one of those people had also been chattering quietly throughout Act I so one quietly wanted to stab them in the eyeball. Revenge Tragedy. The only difference is you.

What would Artaud make of Cry Havoc’s Titus Andronicus, one wonders, with their emblazoned dedication to the canon; a play never taught as a masterpiece, but embracing the visceral image theatre, a tradition of truth-telling at the core of performance that demands nearly impossible feats from the cast. None will know, for this is the twenty-first century Titus – the French theorist’s disdain for the classics is of no importance to a 2011 audience, is it? How much of the audience just wants blood for blood? I know I did.

There lies the true horror of this play. That we are creatures of malice, however intended. Revenge does not need to descend into madness to succeed, it is not blind, it feeds on what is wrong, the kind of pure and simple fact that something is awry. Sit in the audience and dare to feel otherwise. I couldn’t. Look. Away.

Titus Andronicus, by William Shakespeare; playing at ATYP ‘Under the Wharf’. Directed by Kate Revz, featuring Helmut Bakaitis, Gabriel Fancourt, Sam Haft, Sean Hawkins, Drew Livingstone, Megan O’Connell, Suzanne Pereira, Berynn Schwerdt, Demetrios Sirilas, Tom Stokes, Anthony Taufa, Aaron Tsindos and Eloise Winestock. Playing until November 5th.

BUSY AM WRITING.

But I was on my walk and this moment reminded me of The Seagull. See the lone Trigorin fishing off the point.

Also of how deadlines feel, when they swamp you. Meanwhile…

New Theatre, October 2011. Presented by IPAN International Performing Arts Network in association with The Spare Room

The politicians don’t care for much beyond the populism of the day. The people tut-tut each other or heckle with home-made signs, and the boats keep smashing on distant rocks. There will be a day, we hope against hope, when the plight of international refugees will be acknowledged, and the western world will take on the responsibility it needs to face; globally, collectively, spiritually – to reach out to the downtrodden and persecuted peoples. Only when we fully accept the role such privilege plays in the global imbalances that create such desperation can we move forward. Not because it’s the right thing to do, but for the sake of our collective human soul. We must act with compassion. Not just in a “let them stay” kind of begrudging welcome (which is all we seem able to barely manage now)- but in a full acknowledgement of the privileges we are born to. To know just how lucky we are, we must face up to the misfortunes of others.

One can get on one’s high horse when it comes to people smuggling, whichever side of the fence one rides.

Lucky for us this play does no such thing. It brings the human stories, stripped down to their bare bones and rags, their most human of hopes riding waves of disappointment. It’s a difficult work to express, and director Sama Ky Balson has opted for simplicity in set and movement, allowing the measured, sparse poetry of the script to float around the production’s impressive physical and image theatre core. The third element in play is Joseph Nezeti’s sound design, comprising live vocals and harmonies that bring out the dreamlike qualities inherent in the script.

Dutch playwright Ferenc Alexander Zavaros has created a challenging piece for the cast to present; part realism part expressionism, and these challenges will translate for the audience as the cast bring a tone that recollects the detached voice of a poet reading their own work off the page. This, along with some slower pacing in the opening sequence means one needs to work that much harder to reach into the world of the play. But once we make that leap of empathy, the language and the semi-hypnotic physicality of the performance overcome the natural limitations this style of theatre can bring for an audience. One has to work towards engaging with the text, it’s deliberate that way – with poetry struggling against the possible, with the possible pushing up against the barriers of translation and the cut-throat desperation that comes with the will to survive.

So it isn’t much to ask an audience to sit forward and actively engage with this work. It’s not that difficult, but we cannot simply sit back and let this wash over us like so much entertainment. The play asks us to put in a little bit of work, and so it should, since the perils of asylum seekers and people smuggling will not go away without some effort on all our parts. But we shan’t get too preachy. People are not political chips, nor bodies piled up for one to take the moral high ground. This is quite a beautiful and rewarding piece of stagecraft, recommended for those of a mind for something that challenges without confronting, and probes without asking too many of the obvious questions. Go see.

Lucky, by Ferenc Alexander Zavaros. Playing at the New Theatre until October 22. Featuring Guy Simon, Drew Wilson, Hoa X with Joel Corpuz and Conrad Le Bron.

Photograph (c) Robbie Pacheco

This show is all the more resonant for me due to the content, the response from the audiences and incredible courage brought to bear by the cast and crew. All of whom I now miss terribly, even though it’s been barely 24 hours, it’s that strangest of loves that comes with a theatre of connection, of passion for storytelling, for performing, for giving oneself to an audience without quarter. The pin-drop silences. The hairs standing up on my arms and neck in the moments the show opens to another intimate full house. I got the part after a whim to go and practise a monologue in an audition – since that’s a great way to hone one’s craft, (it’s always good to get out and muck around in an audition room and have some fun whether one gets the role or not) – and went in on instinct, on a principle of saying yes to things; without knowing a thing about the play. Other than the title and an inkling that the cast were going to be good to work with… And when I’m right, I’m right.

It took a little while, but through the usual patchwork of schedules we all got comfortable over the four weeks of rehearsal. It’s a challenging play, and intense to work on, so trust was mandatory, but only in the final week were we all really able to come together and feel this play as a whole. Then the usual disastrous dress rehearsals and a tech that would make your hair turn white if you weren’t holding absolute faith in the production and yourself – and then a final dress and then a first preview of a new Australian play… I have commented before how the preview is special as it’s the audience’s turn to become a part of the journey for the first time and in the rush of all that – anything can happen.

Within about ten minutes of the preview starting one of our actors was somehow bleeding gently from the face. And we kept going. And the audience thought it was makeup and stayed with us. And we took them to a place that I don’t think anyone expected to end up. In the courage of forgetting everything of rehearsal in that first live show and simply living the play, we found that the production we reckoned was pretty good was actually really fucking amazing. From that point on it was simple. As the song goes: Helter Skelter. I have never seen a group of actors so willing to hold back less and less as we discovered more and more about ourselves, together, with a series of packed audiences in situ.

I’m not going to name drop the production, or the actors involved, you are all beautiful, you know who you are. That’s not why I’m writing this (although I hope to share that strangest of feelings I have today, and by expressing it, to live the moral core of the work we’ve been making) – I write this to put it out there that a theatre of truth is a powerful, unshakeable beast, and to any aspirational writers, performers or artists of any kind, to put everything you can into a work. To say yes. To speak your fears.

That’s what it’s all about. And for the audiences who came to support us, and were so giving with their responses, their warmth, their titters, chuckles, belly laughs and tears. Thanks. As it should be. And now it’s done, and now I’m left with a great space in my creative life, made by the ever expanding love for total strangers, people who I now can’t imagine having never met… The strangest of loves: no matter how many times I try to leave her, theatre never stops loving me back.

Some basic changes are listed on the page titled “between ideas and understanding“. When I first began it was a virtual conceit, being underwhelmed by the quality of mainstream criticism – I felt my complaints weren’t worth the paper they were writ on if I was not engaging in some form of theatre criticism myself. The general principle has not changed: from a disdain for the writers who nitpick actor or directorial choices without ever making the step up to perform or produce themselves, I felt a singing hypocrisy when confronted with my own whinge about shallow, lacklustre discussion around the arts – without having a go at it, to at least demonstrate it is possible to write something compelling and cogent within a word limit. Not that I thought it would be easy; but a general principle of responding to the work (rather than just reviewing it) has lead me to a better understanding of my own arts practice as well as often enhancing my experience of the work itself.

My mission, and I damn well choose to accept it, is to raise the standard of public conversation about the arts. This is important to me for many reasons, but primarily because I’m tired of such a vital, vibrant part of Australian culture being ‘tacked on’ to how we represent ourselves as a nation. With a deeper, wider conversation about why the arts are fundamental to our lives, a small gathering of art-makers might warrant the same attention in the national psyche as say – twenty two men on a cricket field. And I have often made the point that sports coverage gets column inches because people read it, but people read it because the analysis is in-depth. That’s not something we can currently say about our mainstream arts press.

When I started CRITIC WATCH, it was as a reaction to lame and shallow arts ‘reviews’ by tacky non-creatives, posturing that somehow their opinion of a work was more important than the act of making art itself. It sickens me that a young artist can put on their first show, or an emerging actor take on a role in a co-op theatre show (all unpaid, of course); that they can actually add something to the creative conversation happening globally, and the extent of the public conversation about this entails a single audience member deigning to determine whether they thought the work was ‘good’.

But it soon became apparent that the problem runs much deeper than the majority of film and theatre reviewers who suckle hungrily at the publicity trough – these are a problem, yes, but one symptomatic of the core cultural cancer that’s been eating up our creative minds for some time now. The tendency for bottom feeding critics to dumb-down and simplify artworks to what amounts to a score out of five is excruciating but endemic to the system which commodifies artist and audience alike. Wondering what I’m getting at? Let’s take a stroll through recent events in the critical mainstream.

*Crikey Film Editor and reviewer Luke Buckmaster gets sprung soliciting reviews for a free iPad and advertising space (via The Australian)

At first I thought this was funny, until I looked more closely into it, and saw the absolute blitheness with which the Crikey Film Editor slid from his moral high ground “a festival paying reviewers to offer impartial perspectives would be a terrible move…” into insipid entitlement “I’ve been a film critic for many years I get all my films for free” and finally blatant quid-pro-quo with this amateurish “offer something the other bloggers probably won’t. Such as free advertising in the ‘above the fold’ (ie prominent) section of the Crikey homepage for the duration of the festival”

lulz. right? Not really… I have long since given up trying to track the pathetic efforts of self-proclaimed online cinetologists as pissing in the wind. I rarely read them for fear of spoilers, but there are just so many hack film studies graduates nationwide who think a DVD collection entitles them to a claim of expertise- it’s just not funny at all. Online critics who write for commercial gain are like acne. Unsightly, and in need of a good cleanser, but really of little significance to the health of the greater organism. Despite Crikey’s rising star of legitimacy, this sort of thing is unsurprising in the least. If I recall a year or so ago; another of their regular bloggers casually wondering on twitter if someone could provide them a free Kindle so they could review it. Whether we can take this sort of thing seriously or not is irrelevant, it speaks to a wider attitude of the critic being at the centre of the conversation about the arts. Something with which I fundamentally disagree. It should always be the art.

*ABC Television dismantles its in house arts coverage
Look no further than this for an indictment on the general cultural ill-health of proper attention given to the national arts sector. I put a full spray out on why this is nothing short of a disgrace from the ABC a few weeks ago, and have been waiting patiently for some form of explanation from the management responsible. After a gap between decision and explanation which can only be qualified as the length of the ABC Corporate spin cycle, Managing Director Mark Scott put this op-ed piece in the Fairfax press. To be fair, he does address many of the concerns put forward by artists and audiences alike in the fallout from the axing of Art Nation; but the proof remains to be seen, since the initial statement excludes the ABC from making any arts programs in-house. I can’t really see how this guarantees telling arts stories “in greater depth… with as wide an audience as possible”. Surely keeping some in-house production would enable greater control? And here’s just one more tip for ABC marketers to think on – uprooting and replanting sapling trees is not a great way for them to get to stand tall. Let a program grow deeper roots if you want to reach the tallest parts of the forest.

While our artists are tapping the deepest waters, it’s sad to see that the media is not there with them. But as I said, I’m making a mission to get the wider conversation out there. And I’m not alone, there are others online and in the communities taking up the same challenge.

I can only encourage you to get on board.

sancz out

Directly opposite the New Theatre is a shop window with a map of South East Asia facing the street. Upon leaving the theatre it becomes immediately apparent how close, and yet so far Burma is from the world we know. A place of unimaginable beauty and horror. A place that peppers our nightly news with sporadic reports of disaster, uprising or oppression, stories which quickly fade into distance as we tackle our more immediate First World Problems. Burma can wait. After all, it’s been under military rule for nearly fifty years, what’s one more day?

It’s this everyday tyranny where the play lurks. In the experiences of trickle-down corruption, in the human-impact stories of a place bound up in knots of idealism and fear. It goes into some interesting corners, meditating on the seeming impossibility of technology and the oppressive military state coexisting with the sensual and spiritual side to the city. The ever-present Lake and Buddhism serve as prominent motifs to counterpoint the brutality of the main narrative. The writing utilises an array of symbolic and expressionistic techniques to explore how such an entrenched military system has imprinted itself on every facet of Burmese life. Even the powers themselves cannot escape such vile, soul-destroying consequences as will come with any abuse of power. And let’s not tread euphemistically when it comes to the Burmese military. They have systematically assaulted, starved, abused and kidnapped the citizens in a callous defence of their own position. Bully Generals, every one. Under such a regime we must redefine our notions of freedom, of hope, of purpose, of humanity. For a westerner to bring ideals into this place would be hopelessly naive.

This is where Katie Pollock’s script opens itself up, her fish-out-of-water scenario is played out through the eyes of the archetypically clueless Australian ‘journalist’ (cheekily named Piper Marx), whose personal quest becomes simply dwarfed into irrelevancy by the circumstances around her. By acknowledging that the Western world has no answers, we are then able to simply see into the lives of the characters. With a minimalist approach to the set and direction, director Paul Gilchrist has put his fine cast front and centre, without over-milking the intensity of the script and letting the comic moments pierce through with a gentle truth. This is not an easy play to contend with. It will challenge any ensemble, and any audience – but to bear with the challenges pays great dividends, as it not only draws you in but educates, provokes thought and discussion. Important, political theatre that’s not clear-cut or moralising – a rare thing.

A Quiet Night in Rangoon plays at the New Theatre until September 10. Featuring Shauntelle Benjamin, John Buencamino, Felino Dolloso, Aileen Huynh, Sonya Kerr, Kathryn Schuback and Barton Williams.

presented by Company B Belvoir, August, 2011

When I was a small boy, back in the early 17th Century, I used to look at the strange people on the street as we went past in our carriage and wonder about the lives they lead, their fears, hopes and the many different stories they all had to tell. It’s a fascination I have always had with the city, and the strangeness that comes with being in such proximity of strangers. It’s an affliction I’m guessing is common to storytellers the world over, when they look at their local area, and think things like “where do all these people come from?” or “how many others are there in the world with dreams like mine?” But there’s that convention, that social nuance that prevents us reaching to find out about those who surround us, that business that keeps the mind’s eye focused inward, stuck on our own little world of problems, not so much on the manifold difficulties of the rest of the world.

And this is where things break down. Try as I might, I can’t help but see this production in the context of extraordinary events as have happened in London in recent days. Even though it’s ostensibly about street communities in a suburban city of Australia, it’s about so much more. How the personal is political, how we can carry so much weight of the world – together yet somehow alone. How this culture of picket-fenced segregation leads to whole communities alienated from each other and themselves. How this self-interest leads to the loss of wisdom between generations, which might seem some small thing but can become catastrophic.

Lally Katz has crafted a rare morality fable imbued with modern wit and fear; set around this unlikely friendship between an impressionable young woman Catherine and the indomitable, effusive, charismatic, irresistible Ana across the street. Within simple this framework are such leaps of imagination, magic, music and mystery that draw in its audience, stealthily as I have ever seen, teasing out the empathy with delight and genuine moments of horror or surprise throughout. You know it’s working when your feelings toward a character flare simply because they turned up. Or shift and flip at the behest of a single line – it’s an intoxicating brew of kindness and strangers.

I can say no more without making spoilers. The understated direction from Simon Stone allows the simplest detail of costume or voice to transport us anywhere – almost at the actor’s whimsy; which in harmony with Stefan Gregory’s gorgeous soundtrack and sound design has helped create a new entry to the modern canon. This play will go far. It’s Australian in context – but these are universal stories, set locally, but they could be the voices of any two women, across the street or across the world. It barely matters these days. Global, local, personal, political – everything is connected.

Neighbourhood Watch, By Lally Katz, directed by Simon Stone, featuring Charlie Garber, Megan Holloway, Kris McQuade, Ian Meadows, Heather Mitchell & Robyn Nevin. Playing at Belvoir St Theatre until August 28.

In case you missed it, the big news this week was the dismantling of Art Nation by the ABC, along with staff redundancies marking the end of internally produced arts programs for the forseeable future on our national broadcaster. ABC management rhetoric is that there will still be arts coverage on Sunday afternoons, only now it will be outsourced from production houses.

In the industry, this is technically known as A Really Fucking Bad Idea. And not just because it involves people losing their jobs for no good reason. The arts in Australia is currently in a cycle of massive expansion; and audiences are literally starved for places to turn to find out what’s happening. To match that expansion, we need to equally draw out our public discussions around the arts, emphasising the diversity and significance on the national and global stage.

Given the breadth and multiplicity of the Australian art scenes; there aren’t many organisations with both the means and incentive to do this properly. And the ABC decides to let the marketplace sort it out? I fail to see the logic. Assuming that hour for hour the amount of coverage does not decrease; what kind of arts content can we expect from the commercial sector?

The short answer is: nobody knows. There isn’t exactly a thriving litany of examples of independent production houses making arts related television. There are some arts documentaries released through the festival circuit; but this is very niche compared to the broad magazine format of Art Nation. I reckon most would struggle to match the scope of what’s happening nationally without succumbing to the perils of the publicity machine. That’s the real benefit of the ABC, it is big enough to operate as a true independent and not become trapped by commercial interests. At what point do these outsourced companies draw the line between covering Art for Art’s sake, or covering Art because there’s some canny cross-promotion in the works? Or because it’s popular? Whether the new shows are better or worse, one thing is for sure: they won’t be independent.

THEY SAY JUMP YOU SAY HOW HIGH

Make no mistake, commercial production houses are strictly in the business of keeping their heads above water. It’s a highly competitive market and the shift to this sector will mark a decidedly populist shift in arts coverage on the ABC. For better or for worse, we can’t predict, but only a fool would suggest that the decision hasn’t been made with this in mind. It’s RATINGS, baby. HARDCORE. Now, I’m in favour of creating a wider conversation about the arts, so if more people end up engaging with the ABC arts programs as a result of this move, in of itself that is not a bad thing. The problem is the attitude that a more populist conversation must happen at the expense of what we already have.

As I said before – the arts is in a phase of major expansion, along with the public conversation surrounding it. The ABC can afford to grow that conversation along multiple lines, not just in a way that’s ratings driven. Making a shift from one to the other is a major ideological statement, with or without an official explanation. And by the way, we’re still waiting for that which was promised, Mr Dalton…

I think my worst fear is that the outsourced company will be Zapruder’s Other Films ( I mean, who else is there? ) and we’ll end up with a panel-style show that thrives on dumbing down its subject and peppering the broader conversation with lowbrow smut a-la Wil Anderson on The Gruen Transfer (perhaps that’s a subject for another day) or worse, idiotic and uninformed banter in the vein of the abominable Can Of Worms. After all, this is what independent production houses do, isn’t it? Stick with a formula?

Actually if I had my druthers I’d propose an Insiders style panel which actually offers lively analysis and news, interviews and debate around what’s happening in the arts. Skip the sniggering comedy and go with something that actually appeals to the wider ABC audiences who do watch the arts content. We could call it ‘Outsiders’.

Anyone interested in pitching this?

WHY STAND ON A SILENT PLATFORM?

What’s most disappointing about this is the disregard that ABC Corporate have for cultivating a national conversation about the arts. The lack of respect is evident by the tokenistic corporate-board speak coming from ABC Management; along the lines of ‘funding redistribution’ – euphemistically referring to the jobs lost. At a time when ABC TV is expanding onto multiple channels and there is obvious scope (and broadcast space) for wider, more thorough arts coverage, to take this step is tantamount to a slap in the face of the arts community. Can you imagine the uproar if this had happened in their sports coverage? And yet the evidence suggests that Australians are as much into the arts as they are sport – just that the national conversation has been stifled for so long you wouldn’t know it.

On top of this there has been no official statement from the ABC as yet, despite the promises. One can only imagine the PR team in overdrive as the backlash sets in, trying to sell us this turd of a decision, answer the questions coming from all angles (the arts community, the unions, even the Communications Minister Stephen Conroy has put his two cents in). Red faces all around as what seemed like a good idea at the time comes back and bites the powers-that-be right on the arse.

Save yourself the hassle, Mr Dalton. The decision can be undone. Otherwise when it’s time for your tenure to end, you might not have the legacy you first imagined upon taking the reins.

Just a thought…