If you thought Emma Watson was a strong advocate for feminism, you haven’t seen Milly Pontipee flip a table while screaming in the faces of seven rowdy boys. Produced by the Griffith Conservatorium of Musical Theatre, ‘Seven Brides for Seven Brothers’ premiered on May 5th, the second-year students dazzling a sold-out opening audience.
Every two months, all the musical theatre lovers of Brisbane jump in their cars and make their way to the New Globe Theatre (blasting overrated show tunes the entire drive, of course.) In this underground bar, said musical theatre lovers spend the night chatting, networking, singing, laughing, listening to live music, and laughing some more.
Underground Broadway’s completely sold out Autumn show certainly didn’t fail to deliver.
Tucked in an underground bar in Brisbane’s fortitude valley, a little room filled with tattered couches and strings of Christmas lights played host to a magical night of live music. People poured into the festive room wearing bright smiles, settling into the scattered array of chairs with bottles of champagne and picnics stowed in their bags. The show ahead would be a night of overly-talented performers singing carols and musical theatre pieces, the cast including members from the Australian tours of Les Miserables, Matilda, Into the Woods and the Sound of Music.
Underground Broadway is not just a place where musical theatre lovers gather to watch their friends and icons take to the microphone in a flurry of passion, laughter and energy. Underground Broadway is a place where like-minded people gather to share love and appreciation, spread joy and revel in happiness. As Spencer said on the night, “It doesn’t matter if you’re gay, what colour your skin is, your nationality, your religion… If you are kind, you will always have a place here at Underground Broadway.” Continue reading “Underground Broadway: Christmas”
Even if you aren’t a big fan of musical theatre (what are you doing with your life, I ask?), it would be hard to resist feeling incredibly spellbound and touched by the speeches given at the 70th Tony Awards. The well-deserved winners used their allotted time slot to give their thanks, to spark a light of hope in young dreamers and to speak out against the Orlando shooting episode that occurred the same day. Continue reading “Rise Up for the Tony Awards”
I’ve been performing since I was three years old. Obviously, I was the cutest little munchkin to ever grace the stage and naturally felt at home under the spotlight. Or, you know, hid behind the curtains in a bright purple tutu, totally dismissing the dance I’d been learning for the past 10 weeks in favour of squinting into the audience in search of my mum. Continue reading “How I’m (not) coping without performing”
“I found the theatre and I found my home.”
When Audra McDonald stammered these words through a layer of tears during her acceptance speech at the 2012 Tony Awards, goose bumps shivered their way up my arms and my heart swelled to double its size. She’d captured the essence of being a performer in a mere nine words. A mere one word: home.
Hot stage lights, bobby pins scattered over floors, missing coat hangers, itchy costumes, the thrill of quick changes, the smell of hairspray, ripped stockings, hearing the hush of the crowd as the overture begins, seven-minute-long dance numbers and bowing to a standing ovation: these all are just little things performers love (or hate) about what they do. Inevitably, there is a constant balance between delight and despair, and here is a handful of the good and the bad things that come along with a musical obsession:
DELIGHT: Every show we see teaches us a life lesson. Sometimes the message is sung loud and clear, like in Spamalot’s finale ‘Always look on the bright side of life.’ Other times, such as Wicked’s take on moral relativism, an implicit meaning is intricately weaved through the script. Newsies teaches us to seize the day, Rent shows us how to measure a year in love, Eliza from Hamilton explains the importance of forgiveness and Mary Poppins allows us to believe that anything can happen if you let it. One thing is certain: every time you exit the auditorium you’re a little older and a lot wiser.
DESPAIR: When you live in Brisbane (which is approximately 15504.42 kilometres from Broadway and 16531.18 kilometres from West End), you only get to see around three professional shows a year, and you don’t get to choose which ones. It’s heartbreaking to love a show without being afforded the opportunity to give it a standing ovation. Australian thespians just have to make do with cast recordings and (only if you can avoid the guilt train) bootlegs.
DELIGHT: Audiences are catapulted to eras and worlds unlike our own. Through the stories musicals tell, we are continuously learning about lives unlike our own, problems we may never have to face and cultures we’ve never experienced. For example, because of Hamilton, I understand 18th century American history and politics far better than I understand America now.
DESPAIR: Theatre is not an everlasting art form; all shows must close eventually. Unlike movies or books, which can be watched or read repeatedly, musicals can only be experienced once. Or, if you’re rich, maybe twice. Performers themselves must endure the heartbreak of leaving behind the roles they’ve become acquainted with, saying goodbye to costumes and dressing rooms, and fare-welling a cast that won’t ever perform together again. PMD (post-musical depression) is real.
While these four arguments all describe the good and the bad of musical theatre, none of them define the art form as precisely as Audra did when she nailed down that one significant term: HOME. Home means a place to feel loved by the people you adore, familiarity, protection from the outside world and somewhere where you can be yourself. In my opinion, the definition of theatre doesn’t stray far from these selection of words. One time, on a six hour bus ride back to Brisbane after doing three shows in Bundaberg (boy, were we tired), someone asked what the address of our rehearsal studio was and three of us simultaneously shouted it at the poor, startled girl. My point is, we all knew it off by heart.
I hope you all find a place to call your second home, because I know where mine is.