Nightshift

Nightshift
Phil Motherwell
At La Mama
Until March 23

Nightshift is one of the seminal theatre companies you read about in second year Australian Theatre History, arguably born out of the Pram, at least partially funded by according to Tim Robertson’s book, arguably born directly out of Lindzee Smith and Phil Motherwell.

Like a monster of seventies stadium rock Nightshift reunite at La Mama for a come back gig in memoriam of their fallen leader a year after his passing. With such a sweeping sense of local history attached who could resist seeing the return. After all, in thirty years time, this is what the Melbourne Independents are gonna look like.

And the view isn’t pretty. I mean, these guys were never the beautiful people, but there was a fire of passion in the heart and a spark of youth in the eye back then that look to have both long since been extinguished.

Well, you can’t stay young forever.

Danny held off on reviewing Nightshift to the end out of respect for the gone dentist and his sense of past glory. Plus, also, he’s a slack bastard as I’m sure you the benighted reader are no doubt aware. But now we’re only a couple of days from their close, Danny’s gonna say what he thinks.

I’ll start with the positive stuff. Motherwells writing is extraordinary. Where oh where are the writers that can pull of such blatant down and out aussie battler-ish-ness without seeming self conscious. No where, that’s where. Only someone of Motherwell’s ilk can do it without seeming like a tool. Not only do Motherwells words sing and clash and riff and roll the way only the poetry of the loser can, they have that undeniable ring of authenticity Motherwell earned through really living that life.

But the highest compliment I can pay Motherwells writing is that it manages somehow to still be heard through the appalling acting, the half hearted direction and the general evidence of under rehearsal.

Actors stumble on lines, not once or twice but constantly, songs by Joe Dolce are tunelessly droned, and only one performer is at all watchable (with sonorous voice and giant stage presence from such a tiny body). It’s awful. It’s practically unwatchable. It’s ultimately a tragedy because Motherwells writing deserves so so much more than Motherwell’s directing can deliver.

Danny Episode