#the method gun

[whistlefromabove]

(The tamale vendor exits.)

[whistlefromabove]

(The kissing is rhythmically based on the following instructions from a high school acting text book:)

[pomelo-and-pilcrow-blog]

There's nothing more personal than hair

So claimed the Rude Mechanicals, a group out of Austin, Texas, as we settled down in the Brisbane Powerhouse Theatre on Thursday evening and were asked to participate in one of the opening activities of the night. But don’t worry—if you’re the kind of person who prefers to melt into the darkness as the lights are dimmed, this particular activity doesn’t require much effort, and does not, in fact, involve hair. But it’s quirky little quips like this, and more, that make The Method Gun a giggle-worthy 90 minutes of your life.

The story goes that Stella Burden, acting coach and guru from the 60s and 70s, mysteriously fled to South America in 1975, leaving behind a group of clueless and sometimes awkward devotees who continue rehearsals following ‘The Approach’. The Rude Mechs jump in and out of multiple characters to tell the—fictional?—tale of these devotees as they struggle to make sense of Burden’s disappearance and work out their place in both the acting world and in reality.

As they rehearse their own special version of A Streetcar Named Desire (if ‘special’ is what you’d call it without Stella, Blanche, Stanley, and Mitch), the audience is left wondering whether this farcical craze will actually take off. Indeed, the actors themselves swing from self-doubt and self-hatred to the belief that the show really will work; they refine their craft for opening night, giving up at times, but always returning to Burden’s unique exercises, some of which are hilarious to watch.

If, like me, you’re a little rusty on your Streetcar knowledge, don’t worry. The Rude Mechs have slotted in a quick OHT presentation, accompanied by live piano, of Tennessee Williams’ Pulitzer-winning play. Add in a few monologues, an interview sequence with Burden’s devotees, and the infamous gun in a birdcage, and you’ve got yourself a lively, always-interesting story. But the best part for me was the talking tiger. With those sassy moves and that brilliant accent, he was an unforgettable character who got me laughing out loud from wit and silliness alike.

Of course, there’s one thing more personal than hair, and that something is triumphantly bared on stage by two of the cast. Balls and balloons—that’s all I’ll say.

Awkward, funny, and at times bizarre, The Method Gun finishes up on Sunday 26 February.

[whistlefromabove]

(The tiger returns.)

[fyeahtheatreayeaye]

Death of a Salesman FROM A TIGER

The Iceman Cometh WITH A TIGER

Lysistrata AND A TIGER