REVIEWS MUSIC
THEATRE
Ava Nirui
Girl Talk, ‘All Day’
Justin Wolfers
The Wild Duck Belvoir St. Theatre // 16 Feb – 27 March
If a restaurant gave you a sweaty, cold piece of steak on the house, would you eat it? Just because something is free doesn’t excuse the fact that it’s shit. Don’t get me wrong, kudos to Greg Gillis of Girl Talk fame for selflessly releasing his fifth album ‘All Day’ as a free digital download (after making a fuck-load of money through defacing the creative property of hundreds of legendary artists), but the charm of such digital sampling is starting to wear thin. Unlike the skillful mashing and entwining of classic oldies with familiar current pop and RnB tracks in his first release ‘Night Ripper’, ‘All Day’ sounds like an audial experiment, with awkward transitioning and clashing samples in nearly every track. The opening track ‘Oh No’ is promising, as Black Sabbath’s ‘War Pigs’ is seamlessly blended with Ludacris’ hardcore chants in ‘Move Bitch’. As the album progresses, however, such innovative mash-ups become a rarity, as samples are predominantly drawn from mediocre contemporary hip-hop artists such as Gucci Mane and Lil Wayne. This stunts the creativity of the mixes and adds to their cyclical and inhibited nature. Mainstream audiences have evidently been targeted with this release, due to the heavy usage of samples from popular artists such as Rihanna, Lady Gaga and (unfortunately) Miley Cyrus. Tracks like ‘That’s Right’ and ‘Get It Get It’ sound neglected and lazy - the samples have not been tweaked and drag on for far too long. This album just proves that sadly Greg Gillis really is a one trick pony. Girl Talk used to feed my severe AD/HD, the jittery mixes filled me with a euphoric nervousness but unfortunately ‘All Day’ does not cater to my low attention span.
Belvoir St. Theatre’s season opener is gripping and consummately performed. “Gripping” as in, bracing your knees to bear the tension; and “consummately performed”, as in Simon Stone’s adapted dialogue is so sharp that it is simultaneously realist and dramatic. Brought out of its 19th Century Norwegian setting into a bare, contemporary one, Henrik Ibsen’s The Wild Duck delivers the stuff of dreams immediately: there’s a live duck waddling around the stage! Soon we are introduced to the characters, and the interplay is full of the dry wit and dark irony that so well describes stunted family relationships. This, as the play develops, turns into a core theme. Where is the line between emotional damage that can be resolved by a ‘family conquers all’ mentality and irreparable harm? Director Simon Stone makes intelligent use of the stage in conveying this to the audience, with the emotional separations manifesting themselves as physical separations on the stage. The self-searching and self-abasing of the characters becomes literal and visceral through use of the clear glass that insulates the cast from the audience. In an astute and measured performance, Gregers Werle (Toby Schmitz) learns something vital about the way one simple revelation can capitulate and spread its implications. Hjalmar Akdal (Ewen Leslie) is the pivot of everything that transpires as the innocent man, the cuckold. His turns through anger, disbelief, and sheer panic are searing, and so compelling as to seem organic. Gina Akdal (Anita Heigh) is perfectly cast as wispy and frail-but-lion-hearted, and is the perfect mix of a character you both disdain and empathise with. Through the stage setup, Ralph Myers has created an environment in which time passes and scenes change seamlessly, with very little in the way of lavish contraptions. Stefan Gregory’s score too is minimal, barely there until it is employed crucially and with ravaging effect to punctuate key moments. However it is Eloise Mignon, who in an age-defying (is she 15 or 25? It doesn’t matter, she blows us away) performance as Hedvig, glues the affections of the cast together, as they struggle to shield their child from exposure to the adult realm of deceit and contaminated happiness. Gripping and compelling. Without even trying.
. 30 .