It's bad form to review reviews about your own show but fuck it, here goes.
A show I've written and directed opened in Auckland last week called MAMIL. MAMIL stands for Middle Aged Man In Lycra and is a one-man show starring the very fine actor Mark Hadlow. I've been working on the script for over two years and it's become a show I'm very proud of. Still not perfect by any stretch, but it's funny, and moving and deals with issues I haven't seen dealt with on stage before.
It opened on Friday August 25th. The opening went really well. People were laughing all through and Mark got a standing ovation at the end. I was pretty happy. Before I go any further I shall type some words in capitals...I'm not yelling at you dear reader...I'm yelling at the world...
I KNOW IT'S TOO LONG.
I've known it forever. I knew it after the first draft, that's why the three subsequent drafts got shorter. I know it needs another trim but like pubic hair it needs time in front of audience to discover which bits need trimming so it doesn't end up looking like a creepy childlike penis...which apparently the play already contains and makes everyone watching extremely uncomfortable.
So, after the euphoria of champagne and sausage rolls on Friday night, the first review hit the webosphere on Saturday morning and you can read it here.
This review appeared on a NZ site called Theatreview. They've been going through a bit of internal self-analysis recently due to the perception you could book the Basement, flick on a parcan, eat a sausage roll and get a rave review, but after a hui and an epic forum discussion they've changed their ways. So, in many ways, this "Pearl, Peccadillo or just too Pervy?" notice is pretty progressive.
The first half's all good. I disagree with some of it but that's fine. Then we come to this:
I'm not easily shocked, but the conversations between Bryan and (Hadlow playing) his desperate, needy penis as a character are, for me, a step too far. This repulses many in the audience.
I was at this show. I was a bit pissed, but I cannot recall anyone standing up, stopping the show and asking everyone who felt repulsed by Mark talking to his own penis to raise their hand...or their penis. I cannot recall anyone afterwards doing a survey where audience members got to mark their 'Penis Repulsion' levels with penis pens on penis paper on a scale of 1-5 where 1 is 'Not at all repulsed' and 5 is 'I vomited a bit on my penis'. From where I was sitting most of the audience were pissing themselves. They bloody loved Bryan's Penis.
Call me old-fashioned, but when an urgent, child-like, worried penis appears on stage, empathy suddenly leaves the building.
Starting any sentence with, "Call me old-fashioned, but..." or, "I'm not easily shocked, but..." is a bit like hearing someone start a sentence with, "I'm not racist, but...". You sort of know they're about to blether out something that instantly identifies them as an old-fashioned, easily shocked racist. (The play is also a bit racist...but more on that soon!) My question is how does one know when empathy has left the building? Is empathy like Elvis and a velvety voiced announcer tells the audience that, "Empathy has left the building" to make them all go away to seek their empathy elsewhere? Buggered if I know. The review obviously knew though. And the penis sounds more like Smeagol to me. Or perhaps that should be Smegol. I'm sorry if that was a step too far.
The review continues to say I've written two plays in one, which surely means double the bang for your buck so that's got to be good, before wrapping things up with:
I want it to be less like your pervy uncle, and more like your nice brother where the boundaries are clear, everything is open, and distress is absent.
WTFDTM? I think the review is saying my play is too Uncle Bully and not enough Boogie. Maybe. Anyway, let's move on to review number two before I become distressed and absent.
This one appeared in the NZ Herald on Monday and is a bit more important because some people who buy tickets to theatre read the NZ Herald. This review starts well by saying the show is only 85 minutes long as opposed to nearly two hours in the previous review, but at 85 minutes it's still, "just too long". I'm not sure what TARDIS this reviewer was watching MAMIL from, but I'd give my left nut to have it running at 85 minutes. This reviewer agrees with me that the nation-dividing character of 'Bryan's Penis' sounds more like Gollum and compliments me on my, "number of amusing puns and rhymes". The local references are also "welcome", but not alas for this NonAuckland (NonDorkland) audience member...
The rest of the comments are very nice though.
"But at 85 minutes, it's too long for a solo show - a common mistake for writers directing their own work."
How long is too long for a solo show? If a solo show falls in a a forest, and no-one is around to hear it, is it too long? I remember seeing Pete Postlethwaite in a solo show called Scaramouche Jones and it was definitely longer than 85 minutes, but I bet nobody was asking Pete if he could bang it through a bit faster. It's a common mistake though which is reassuring.
(The play is also a bit racist...but more on that soon!)
Jane Hakaraia's lights get a good mention which is fab, because Jane is awesome and her lighting design was bloody brilliant.
This review finishes by reprimanding Mark for giving the operator a hard time and then reprimanding him again for 'fluffing' his lines and corpsing. Big sigh. Deep breath. We've got a fantastic operator called Stephen, also known as 'Stretch' because he's rather tall. Mark and Stretch get on very well. A lot of the sound cues are visual cues from Mark and when they aren't in sync it's very funny. Mark will comment, he may even act like he's outraged. It's very funny. Sometimes he'll ask for the cue again. It's very funny. Sometimes Mark will fluff a line and comment on it. It's very funny. Sometimes he will corpse. It's very funny.This all happened on opening night and it was very funny. Most of the audience were fully aware of what was going on and laughed like drains.
It concludes by dissing our "clunky"set, which the previous review thought was "strong" and sums the show up with this wee closing zinger:
"Half-baked with occasional laughs. Possibly cynical; or maybe that's just me."
I'm possibly cynical, but this review is half-baked; or maybe that's just me.
Only one to go dear reader, stick with me. This one appeared in a blog just like mine called The Pantographic Punch. Actually, it's a much prettier blog than mine. I'd love for my blog to look as pristine and minimalist as The Pantographic Punch but I don't know how. This one starts with a brief plot summary before correctly deducing my intention is humour. It then points out my play is made up of, "a slew of tired stereotypes". The previous review commented on my "tired old fashioned" racial stereotypes. So, it's finally time to address the white elephant in the room.
I am a tired, old fashioned racist.
People who know me already know this. They all whisper, "Ah, there's Greg, he's such a tired, old fashioned racist", after I go to bed at 8:30pm in my flannelette KKK jim-jams. It's not my fault though. I'm from Christchurch. I live in Melbourne now, and that blank look the locals give you when you tell them you don't support an AFL team is exactly the look you get in Christchurch when you tell a local you're not a racist. They just can't comprehend it. You are alien to them. When I look back on those halcyon days of performing racist improv at The Court Theatre before going into town to eat some racist KFC and getting into a friendly racist fight with other racists on Colombo Street, I'm not surprised some of my stereotypical racism has leaked into my never-ending solo show. Luckily for me there are some fans of tired racist stereotypes in the audience the night this review was done...
"There are laughs the night I go. The laughs are the most disturbing part of the show."
God only knows how disturbed this reviewer would have been with the standing ovation on opening night. Other people laughing at a comedy show you don't find amusing is very disturbing though and this review has every right to be disturbed. At least the most disturbing thing wasn't the talking penis...
"He’s frank about his impotence, too, but it’s made a little creepy by him playing the character of his penis with a child’s voice (“why don’t you touch me anymore?” it inquires innocently at one point)."
...or maybe not.
I think I'd better stop now before I turn into Morrissey. There have been some positive reviews, you can read them here and here. I know I should probably take a line from the show I've written and, "harden up you little prick", but call me old fashioned, I don't think it's too much to ask for a reviewer to at least acknowledge that although a show isn't for them, the majority of the audience are laughing and enjoying themselves. Maybe a standing ovation is worth a mention too.
The show is selling well though, and we've received terrific feedback from people in the industry we hugely respect and audience members we've never met before.
That'll do. I'm tired and I need to go talk to my racist penis.
http://www.ticketmaster.co.nz/MAMIL-tickets/artist/1995733
A show I've written and directed opened in Auckland last week called MAMIL. MAMIL stands for Middle Aged Man In Lycra and is a one-man show starring the very fine actor Mark Hadlow. I've been working on the script for over two years and it's become a show I'm very proud of. Still not perfect by any stretch, but it's funny, and moving and deals with issues I haven't seen dealt with on stage before.
It opened on Friday August 25th. The opening went really well. People were laughing all through and Mark got a standing ovation at the end. I was pretty happy. Before I go any further I shall type some words in capitals...I'm not yelling at you dear reader...I'm yelling at the world...
I KNOW IT'S TOO LONG.
I've known it forever. I knew it after the first draft, that's why the three subsequent drafts got shorter. I know it needs another trim but like pubic hair it needs time in front of audience to discover which bits need trimming so it doesn't end up looking like a creepy childlike penis...which apparently the play already contains and makes everyone watching extremely uncomfortable.
So, after the euphoria of champagne and sausage rolls on Friday night, the first review hit the webosphere on Saturday morning and you can read it here.
This review appeared on a NZ site called Theatreview. They've been going through a bit of internal self-analysis recently due to the perception you could book the Basement, flick on a parcan, eat a sausage roll and get a rave review, but after a hui and an epic forum discussion they've changed their ways. So, in many ways, this "Pearl, Peccadillo or just too Pervy?" notice is pretty progressive.
The first half's all good. I disagree with some of it but that's fine. Then we come to this:
I'm not easily shocked, but the conversations between Bryan and (Hadlow playing) his desperate, needy penis as a character are, for me, a step too far. This repulses many in the audience.
I was at this show. I was a bit pissed, but I cannot recall anyone standing up, stopping the show and asking everyone who felt repulsed by Mark talking to his own penis to raise their hand...or their penis. I cannot recall anyone afterwards doing a survey where audience members got to mark their 'Penis Repulsion' levels with penis pens on penis paper on a scale of 1-5 where 1 is 'Not at all repulsed' and 5 is 'I vomited a bit on my penis'. From where I was sitting most of the audience were pissing themselves. They bloody loved Bryan's Penis.
Call me old-fashioned, but when an urgent, child-like, worried penis appears on stage, empathy suddenly leaves the building.
Starting any sentence with, "Call me old-fashioned, but..." or, "I'm not easily shocked, but..." is a bit like hearing someone start a sentence with, "I'm not racist, but...". You sort of know they're about to blether out something that instantly identifies them as an old-fashioned, easily shocked racist. (The play is also a bit racist...but more on that soon!) My question is how does one know when empathy has left the building? Is empathy like Elvis and a velvety voiced announcer tells the audience that, "Empathy has left the building" to make them all go away to seek their empathy elsewhere? Buggered if I know. The review obviously knew though. And the penis sounds more like Smeagol to me. Or perhaps that should be Smegol. I'm sorry if that was a step too far.
The review continues to say I've written two plays in one, which surely means double the bang for your buck so that's got to be good, before wrapping things up with:
I want it to be less like your pervy uncle, and more like your nice brother where the boundaries are clear, everything is open, and distress is absent.
WTFDTM? I think the review is saying my play is too Uncle Bully and not enough Boogie. Maybe. Anyway, let's move on to review number two before I become distressed and absent.
This one appeared in the NZ Herald on Monday and is a bit more important because some people who buy tickets to theatre read the NZ Herald. This review starts well by saying the show is only 85 minutes long as opposed to nearly two hours in the previous review, but at 85 minutes it's still, "just too long". I'm not sure what TARDIS this reviewer was watching MAMIL from, but I'd give my left nut to have it running at 85 minutes. This reviewer agrees with me that the nation-dividing character of 'Bryan's Penis' sounds more like Gollum and compliments me on my, "number of amusing puns and rhymes". The local references are also "welcome", but not alas for this NonAuckland (NonDorkland) audience member...
Show for Dorklanders Only
Herald Theatre, Aotea Centre
- Auckland
- Sat 26 Jul 2014
Too many Auckland-related jokes known only to Aucklanders (Dorklanders). Not for people who live outside urban Auckland.
Too rude and embarrassing at times to even look at what was going on on the stage. These scenes did not need to be in the show.
Interesting in content and Mark Hadlow shows how talented he is in portraying 10 characters!
Too rude and embarrassing at times to even look at what was going on on the stage. These scenes did not need to be in the show.
Interesting in content and Mark Hadlow shows how talented he is in portraying 10 characters!
"But at 85 minutes, it's too long for a solo show - a common mistake for writers directing their own work."
How long is too long for a solo show? If a solo show falls in a a forest, and no-one is around to hear it, is it too long? I remember seeing Pete Postlethwaite in a solo show called Scaramouche Jones and it was definitely longer than 85 minutes, but I bet nobody was asking Pete if he could bang it through a bit faster. It's a common mistake though which is reassuring.
(The play is also a bit racist...but more on that soon!)
Jane Hakaraia's lights get a good mention which is fab, because Jane is awesome and her lighting design was bloody brilliant.
This review finishes by reprimanding Mark for giving the operator a hard time and then reprimanding him again for 'fluffing' his lines and corpsing. Big sigh. Deep breath. We've got a fantastic operator called Stephen, also known as 'Stretch' because he's rather tall. Mark and Stretch get on very well. A lot of the sound cues are visual cues from Mark and when they aren't in sync it's very funny. Mark will comment, he may even act like he's outraged. It's very funny. Sometimes he'll ask for the cue again. It's very funny. Sometimes Mark will fluff a line and comment on it. It's very funny. Sometimes he will corpse. It's very funny.This all happened on opening night and it was very funny. Most of the audience were fully aware of what was going on and laughed like drains.
It concludes by dissing our "clunky"set, which the previous review thought was "strong" and sums the show up with this wee closing zinger:
"Half-baked with occasional laughs. Possibly cynical; or maybe that's just me."
I'm possibly cynical, but this review is half-baked; or maybe that's just me.
Only one to go dear reader, stick with me. This one appeared in a blog just like mine called The Pantographic Punch. Actually, it's a much prettier blog than mine. I'd love for my blog to look as pristine and minimalist as The Pantographic Punch but I don't know how. This one starts with a brief plot summary before correctly deducing my intention is humour. It then points out my play is made up of, "a slew of tired stereotypes". The previous review commented on my "tired old fashioned" racial stereotypes. So, it's finally time to address the white elephant in the room.
I am a tired, old fashioned racist.
People who know me already know this. They all whisper, "Ah, there's Greg, he's such a tired, old fashioned racist", after I go to bed at 8:30pm in my flannelette KKK jim-jams. It's not my fault though. I'm from Christchurch. I live in Melbourne now, and that blank look the locals give you when you tell them you don't support an AFL team is exactly the look you get in Christchurch when you tell a local you're not a racist. They just can't comprehend it. You are alien to them. When I look back on those halcyon days of performing racist improv at The Court Theatre before going into town to eat some racist KFC and getting into a friendly racist fight with other racists on Colombo Street, I'm not surprised some of my stereotypical racism has leaked into my never-ending solo show. Luckily for me there are some fans of tired racist stereotypes in the audience the night this review was done...
"There are laughs the night I go. The laughs are the most disturbing part of the show."
God only knows how disturbed this reviewer would have been with the standing ovation on opening night. Other people laughing at a comedy show you don't find amusing is very disturbing though and this review has every right to be disturbed. At least the most disturbing thing wasn't the talking penis...
"He’s frank about his impotence, too, but it’s made a little creepy by him playing the character of his penis with a child’s voice (“why don’t you touch me anymore?” it inquires innocently at one point)."
...or maybe not.
I think I'd better stop now before I turn into Morrissey. There have been some positive reviews, you can read them here and here. I know I should probably take a line from the show I've written and, "harden up you little prick", but call me old fashioned, I don't think it's too much to ask for a reviewer to at least acknowledge that although a show isn't for them, the majority of the audience are laughing and enjoying themselves. Maybe a standing ovation is worth a mention too.
The show is selling well though, and we've received terrific feedback from people in the industry we hugely respect and audience members we've never met before.
That'll do. I'm tired and I need to go talk to my racist penis.
http://www.ticketmaster.co.nz/MAMIL-tickets/artist/1995733
