#dan goodwin

[all-rock-and-roll-is-homosexual]

Select Magazine August 1992/Beastie Boys/Kitchens of Distinction/A House

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Kitchens Of Disctinction ''He Holds Her, He Needs Her''

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Kitchens Of Distinction - Elephantine

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Bloodletting by the Bitter Springs (featuring Julian Swales/Dan Goodwin)

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Deltacation 2016

When my husband and I were dating, it was extremely important to him that I be able to handle his annual waterskiing trips to the California delta – a 700,000 acre maze of tributaries, sloughs and islands, located east of the San Francisco Bay Area, stretching nearly 50 miles from Sacramento south to Tracy.  I say “handle” because, back then, these were three-day, whirlwind parties on the water…

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[dunedinperformancejournal]

The Fall of the House of Usher - Directed by Jess Green

Horror is difficult to pull off, especially in the theatre. As a genre it demands the use of striking and spectacular effects, and, in Allen Hall especially, this is not an easy feat. The House of Usher, written by Allen Hall’s very own Ethan Rodgers, makes great use of the space, bringing in original ideas and talented performers to create a chilling short piece.

The theatrical tactics employed in this piece are many and varied, each aiming to add to the gothic, macabre feel of the piece. Perhaps most striking was the plays early use of Allen Hall’s catwalk; a dark figure towers over the audience standing on one of the catwalks ledges, the curved ceilings of the building filled with a dim light cleverly representing the style and scale of Usher’s mansion. The grandiose style and sheer stature of Allen Hall in this moment ties in nicely to the reframed language and style of Edgar Allan Poe, which the play bases itself off of. Green also employs a creative enactment of The Mad Tryst as the narrator reads the tale to Roderick Usher. One of the play’s true successes is in physicalizing what the original story attempts to evoke. We are allowed to be first hand witnesses to Roderick’s madness as the narrator’s story of knights and dragons comes alive.

While each of these ideas are fantastic in and of themselves, perhaps more thought could have been placed into how they fit in to the piece as a whole. Leaving a wide open floor space for the enactment of storytelling, and bringing attention to the size of Allen Hall by using the catwalk were both apt ideas, but in their absence the rest of the plays action, forced onto the smaller stage in Allen Hall, seemed physically distant and diminished at times. At times this makes it seem like the actors are fighting an uphill battle. In a play that seems to lend itself to a subtle performance style (contrasting and thus heightening the hair-raising jump-scares when they occur in unforeseen and frantic fashion), the actors did well in pushing past the empty space left by concluded effects.

Dean Alan Jones plays a transfixed Roderick Usher, eyes constantly transfixed on images only he can see as he descends into madness. ‎Mārama Pipepe commands the space as the narrator, occasionally static, but comfortable in the space as she leads the piece along, providing some solace to poor Roderick. Commendations as well to Sinead Fitzgerald in being able to make half the audience shit themselves; suddenly bursting alive after 20 minutes of doll-like placidity as Usher’s dead sister.

In some instances it is noticeable when the language used throughout the piece, that poetic, quasi-ye-old-English style of Poe, seems a little unnatural spoken by the actors. This style of speaking has been stereotyped to all hell in mainstream media, it’s often easy for actors to fall into the trap of letting the language dictate character, rather than the other way around. This never escalates into anything more than a blip in the characterisation however, and mostly the performers manoeuvre the rhythm of the text wonderfully.

The Fall of the House of Usher is a creative piece to add to Allen Halls’ history, and hopefully one that will provide food-for-thought to younger students. Well written and well executed, everyone involved should be proud of this piece, and I’m sure its presence will continue to haunt Allen Hall for a good wee while yet!

Dan Goodwin

[dunedinperformancejournal]

Do You Really Love Me?

Discussing cognitive disability through theatre is a precarious topic. Mental illness changes the way our minds view and think about the world. Theatre, whether through intelligent narrative or interesting lighting states etc., does a good job of portraying that flux.

Alzheimers was the topic of discussion last week in Allen Halls’ Do You Really Love Me? The play followed a family consisting of a father with Alzheimers, his depressed, homosexual son, and angst ridden wife.

The plays biggest strength this week lied in its consistency; the director made consistent choices in lighting, set and costume that worked well juxtaposed together. Sharp, unfiltered beams of light crossed the stage, striking the actors as they delivered poetry taken from who I believe is Ronald Laing (although other than “Scottish psychiatrist in the 1970s” the director doesn’t mention the poet’s name). For the largely monologue driven piece, the simple lighting drew attention to the actors in a sharp and interesting manner. Contrasted with this were moments of extended focus, as actors discussed their perspectives with the audience, lighting flooding across the seating. This was perhaps most poignant with the father, who appeared to reach out to us in his search for answers. Answers that, even if given, would be gone soon enough.

Dressed all in black and without shoes, the immediate perception was that the performance was going to be presented in a fractured and abstract style, rather than a traditional narrative; performers presenting interesting ideas through monologue driven dialogue, rather than constructing a story for stories sake. It played into a bit of a “let’s be artistic” cliché, but that works for this kind of play. The setting was equally simple and unobtrusive, consisting of two blocks. Again, emphasis was not given to the creation of a defined world, but rather worked in service of the actors, drawing focus to them as they delivered complex pieces of poetic dialogue.

The performances however had a tendency to fall a little flat. The subject and tonality of the performance was sombre, yes, but the actors occasionally fell into the trap of letting the tone of the piece drain the energy from their performance at times. The later alcohol fuelled soliloquys of Annica Lewis proved to be the highlight of the piece, her anger and disconnection from those around was conveyed well through her handling of the poetry. Joshua Coles Braun’s character also had moments of strong delivery, moments where his doleful nature began to catch up to him, but never quite overcame his efforts to push forward. It’s in the persistence these characters exhibit that the heartfelt emotion of the piece lies, and I would have liked to see more of that persistence.

All in all this piece committed to what it wanted to be. Director, Dean Allen Jones, should be proud of the directorial choices he has made. Sometimes it tries too hard, letting theme get ahead of artistic tempering, but there are some wonderful moments to be found when the actors find the will to keep up a constant energy.

Dan Goodwin

[dunedinperformancejournal]

Sound and Light - Review

Perhaps the greatest drawback of the Allen Hall LTT program is the fact that, due to its short run of only 2 days, we can’t get reviews out fast enough. Me telling you “DO NOT MISS THIS SHOW”, is thus wasted. So instead I offer a retrospective statement; if you missed this show, then you sure as hell missed out on a doozy. Not a show per-se, but rather a showcase of 5 works (9 if you managed to make it to the Thursday performance) that combined sound, lighting, and occasionally movement to create a dazzling performance that Allen Hall audiences are lucky to have experienced. Focusing around the work of Jeremy Mayall, the current Mozart Fellow at Otago University, many of the pieces possess a dreamlike quality to them. Music and Composition are not my field, and I feel the complexities of his work escape me. But even as an uninformed witness, his work provokes a deep emotional response. The music in each and every piece unobtrusively adds to the ambience of the short pieces presented. In a forum such as the theatre, it’s expected and almost demanded that music add to the performance in a subservient manner, but Mayall pushes this boundary to bring music to the forefront. His music is not pushed into the recesses of your mind as you watch Nadine Kemp perform her flawless, as per usual, dance stylings, or as a video is played on the large projector at the back of the theatre. Rather it remains half inside your consciousness and half outside of it; present and yet not quite there. Not to say that his work is overly limp or spiritless. Watching him improvise on a turntable and iPad provides an energising lift to the performance. However the trance like pieces of the show are definitely its strongest, allowing for a somewhat rare level of repose that other performances can only hope to emulate.

This project has not only emerged from the creative talents of Mayall however. The input of Martyn Roberts’ MFA work for instance is unmistakable. Believe me when I tell you, you have no concept of pitch black until you witness one of Robert’s creations. Attenuated strands of light cross the stage, bisecting the haze to create images out of swirling cloud. In the blackened room, looking towards the sheets of light is like peering at white food colouring, floating slowly down and outward through viscous black liquid. In such low level lighting, it’s hard not to imagine shapes in the fog. With Mayall’s musical pieces lulling you into a state of ethereal consciousness, figures seem to form and dance through the wave-like patterns. I’m less familiar with the works of other collaborators, but each manage to amalgamate with Mayall’s style to produce fascinating works through the mediums of dance, movement and video. If anything, what these pieces need is their own venue. The commitment from Roberts and the tech crew in erasing any and all sources of light is to be extolled, but the faint glow of the projector, slightly loud footsteps from a stage manager are unmistakable; tiny distractions that are inescapable in Allen Hall can unintentionally end up slightly spoiling the otherwise encompassing atmosphere of various pieces. Roberts’ technical expertise is impeccable, and he has provided us with a showcase that demonstrates some of the strongest artistic talent we have here at Otago University. If anyone deserves a theatre catered to their style and technique, it’s him.

Jeremy Mayall’s work is nothing short of astounding, and that we only have him for a year is even more reason to support his work through performances such as these. His website can be found below, including a link to download his new album Imaginary Communication, all proceeds of which will be given to the Himalayan Trust, a charity founded by Sir Edmund Hillary to support the peoples of the Nepal Himalayas.

Jeremy Mayall's website Download his new Album Imaginary Communication here, for a “name your price” fee. Dan Goodwin