By
This is the beginning. Charlie starts slowly, rattling on as an old man, lamenting a life that could have been more. He reminisces with the audience like we’re old friends, and there’s a bittersweetness to it that sneaks up on you. Then, almost without warning, it turns into a bright, absurdist meditation, with surprisingly tender commentary on the circle of end of life. Most of all, I think that this show encompasses the idea that no matter what point in your life you are at, it is never ever too late do extreme sports, or make a speech about someone you care about, or scratch a dog behind the ears.
This is the middle. Clowning is usually energy and obvious, and this is that too, but Obituary is also somehow whispering in your ear at the same time. The characters feel like wild funny detours, but they all curve back to the same themes. My favourite is the revolutionary lobster. When you see it, join Comrade Lobster as a soldier of the aquarium, because if not now, you might never get your chance and spend your life in regret. Also, if a crustacean uprising ever does occur, you’ll want to have practiced and be on the right side of history.
This is the end. At the time of this review, this is a work-in-progress show, which is always a gamble, and that’s part of the thrill. Its a risk you take when you take that first brush stroke. This canvas already has a clear heart and a strong spritely spine, even as it experiments and mutates. I found myself wishing I’d seen earlier versions, the way you do when you know you’re watching something being built in real time. I hope to catch the final form of Obituary and be entertained, moved, properly surprised, and thrilled all over again. I hope that wasn't too cheesy, I really liked it. Back to the beginning.
- Thu, 05 Mar - Tue, 10 Mar
- 55 min
- Cubby House at ARTHUR ARTHOUSE
- PG
- $18 - grab your tickets