Debt Defying Acts

Vaudeville for the politically disenchanted.

Going to see the Debt Defying Acts I wasn't sure what to expect. A show featuring the statesmen of political satire
that advertised itself as a circus, complete with a highwire balancing act.

Awaiting the opening of the theatre doors, I observed that most of my fellows were well past that landmark age of fifty.Perhaps they were introducing their grandchildren to the wonder of elephants and the incongruous silly sadness of clowns?Alas, there was no fairy floss nor excited children to be seen. I must admit, though I am in possession of rational facilities and had not thus truly expected the Wharf Revue to have morphed into the Siberian Circus, I was a little disappointed.

After being ushered in, allowed to sit and hushing as the lights went out, I tried to let go of my delusional desire for acrobatics. The stage lit up, the inside quasi circus tent was revealed, and inside it a ringmaster (albeit dressed as if for one of Charlie Chaplin's earlier works).

What followed was ninety minutes of skits performed against the psychedelic backdrop of Vegas inspired lighting,music worthy of Liza Minelli back-up tracks and a bizzare enough set and costume design to satisfy the hallucinatory fantasies of the late Hunter S. Thompson.

The four players more than satisfied their reputations as industry heavyweights. Each demonstrated superior comic and musical versatility, if not the limbre physicality of acrobats. I was particularly entertained by Amanda
Bishop's imitation of Julia Gilliard, the nasal tones were pitch perfect. Phillip Scott provided fantastic piano
accompaniments and managed to sing as both Kevin Rudd and the Phantom of the Opera. However, it was his song of a Mink whale pursued by Japanese 'scientists' that had me in hysterics.

The variety of subjects, characters and styles was entertaining but I believe it was to the detriment of the plot-
if indeed there was one. Although each skit had the common denominator of social satire, the thread of an interweaving storyline was abandoned early on. Murdoch was portrayed as a mock King Lear, and Allan Jones as a power hungry gremlin in shadow puppet form, whilst the Greens were inexplicably placed in the desert, dressed either as a native dance act or Adam and Eve's impression of G.I. Jane.

For all the Wharf Revue's hype as confronting and contemporary, their portrayals of public figures were somehow more politically correct than provocative and their humour outdated. Admittedly, as a member of the facebook generation, I was not the target audience. The  ladies and gentlemen who made up the vast majority of the audience, however were, and perhaps found the observations and humor to be particularly relevant and incisive. Or, then again, it may have been the lull of the familiar. Perhaps it is not the new that is longed for in theatre, but reinterpretations of the old.

Perhaps by placing economic debates within accepted and well recognized contexts some sense can be made of the vast and ever changing global landscape that we are now a part of.

Perhaps. But for me, whilst amusing, this show was a toothless tiger, its polemic tamer than the overgrown house cats of a real circus.

Article by Rachael Dean