Bedtime for Bastards - The Crypt Theatre, Cat and Fiddle Hotel - 23/11/05

Ethan Switch - Thursday, 24 November 2005 - Print Version

Salsa lessons smack the floorboards with the gut of man squeezing past boundaries over tables in the dining area. Dinner and show, offers a package for food from the Cat and Fiddle bistro and stage antics of The Crypt Theatre. Winner in this equation, the theatre. A four dollar pasta ripe with chicken strips and small on edible weight. Sarsaparilla almost forces the hand of the fresh barkeep to taking a bottle from the back. Its non-existence foiling ultimate plans concerning Dr Pepper's mediocre substitute.

The Crypt Theatre watches on as elbows play inside the rib cages of neighbouring audience members. Not more than 40 chairs are present and the stage area leaves no room for excess. Productions are tight and strip away everything to leave but the essence of characters and the driving plot.

A triple bill naturally features three stories, the trick is to figure out where the interval falls. And just when the first heat stroke occurs. Stories span New York, London and Wollongong, all with a fierce pair working the scripts and set with a tight focus.

Capital, starring Nick Curnow and Kim Knuckey, strips away any pretence of self. Of a New York PR firm in the thick of war, the two spar in more than just ideas and concepts for spin. With a war on terror raging in the background of their minds the fun is in watching the little mice run the big wheel. It's a fast, unflinching commentary on how cunning the ruthless world of public relations need be. Especially when they're of the public relations blood wars. Choreography features a dynamic style of punch. Rawness of the entire module makes a break for a down-your-throat feel leaving the sweating that more confronting and on your sleeve.

Morning on a Rainy Day with Emma Harris and Johann Walraven, spits water on a London flat. Speech falls with a little pause; accents flow evenly despite the speed ratcheting the pace to consideration. Emotionally driven, the tale is a sober look at the harsh reality and untrustworthiness that is love. Both a fickle and eternally strong emotion, love makes the world go round and drives people to insane acts of rationalisation. Wardrobe jumps from the floor to the backs of the actors making them and the set deceptively colder than the sweat trickling from the arm of the obese woman.

Tricia Ryan and Nathan Brown deliver the final episode. Ruthless and running foul of those in the doldrums of unemployment, Kitchen is a massively wicked adventure. Touching on the horrid and sliding into the dark depths of humour, the tension mounts a solid can of sliced beetroot. Throwing up all sorts of deviations and twists in the short, the final resolution reeks of a remarkably macabre sense of triumph.

Ethan Switch