Short+Sweet Theatre 2016 – Gala Final
TAPAC Theatre, Western Springs, Auckland
18/09/2016 - 18/09/2016
TAKING OVER NEW ZEALAND TEN MINUTES AT A TIME
10 minutes to make a statement, 10 minutes to connect, 10 minutes with Short+Sweet Festival Auckland.
Short+Sweet is a performing arts festival that celebrates the 10 minute performance format through Theatre. Join us for a feast of different styles and subjects, with the next morsel only ever 10 minutes away!
Come salivate (sink your teeth into), participate (cast your vote), and debate the night’s bite sized showcases on at Auckland’s annual big-little Festival.
The finalists from 2 ‘Seasons’ and 2 ‘Wildcard’ shows compete in the Theatre Gala Final
For more info: shortandsweet.org.nz
Social media: #shortsweetnz
“Well worth seeing” – Theatreview
“Varied, funny, clever, poignant and sweet” – Theatre Scene
Short+Sweet Theatre 2016 – Gala Theatre Final
Sunday 18 September, 7pm
Some seriously inventive stuff
Review by Lexie Matheson 20th Sep 2016
BACKGROUND & LEAD-UP
Aotearoa New Zealand has a surprisingly strong history of producing theatre festivals of all sorts. My first experience was with the British Drama League whose work featured the type of productions their name suggests. Colonialism has survived a long time in good old Godzone and there’s an argument to suggest we’re a long way from coming out the other side of it any time soon. The push back is extraordinary and manifests itself in both the institutional and the casual personal racism that you hear, see and experience around us every day – and our theatrical default position is often still ‘plays in rooms’ with narratives about English people.
Theatre New Zealand (ex NZ Theatre Federation) has their own version, just completed, of Short+Sweet Theatre but where the time limit per play is 60 minutes. They have run full length play festivals at a national level in the past as well. Imagine how long they must have taken to play out. Mercifully, Short+Sweet Theatre is exactly what it says it is and the limit per play is 10 minutes with a minute extra to set and strike the usually minimalist sets.
Those who follow my theatre musings will know that, as an event manager, I’m all about the complete experience of going to the theatre. It starts from the first moment you engage – usually the decision to purchase a ticket – and ends after the whole experience is over and you’ve arrived home. For the reviewer this can be extended to days after the general public has moved on to other, and sometimes better, things. I have to say that most of my theatregoing experiences here in Auckland have been consistently of top quality: excellent web engagement, a warm and efficient box office welcome, smiling and helpful ushers, bar staff who are organised and friendly and auditoria that are appropriately heated, cleaned and convivial.
There are venues that I look forward to going to for all of these reasons – Te Pou, Q Theatre, The Basement, the Maidment before it closed, even the Aotea Centre has lifted its game – but I’ve yet to enjoy the full theatregoing experience at TAPAC. I don’t have enough fingers to count the times there have been ticketing stuff-ups, I’m seldom greeted with any warmth and staff always seem to be struggling with the theatre’s systems. Friends and colleagues report the same so maybe it’s time for a well overdue injection of joie de vivre because the venue itself is pretty good overall and customer service should always be the order of the day.
My first thoughts when I take my seat in the below stage-level pit at the left hand end of the front row is to acknowledge how privileged we reviewers so often are. We are invariably treated to seats in the middle at least at stage height so we can report on the work from the best possible vantage point. Lucky us – and we should be appreciative of this.
From my seat in the pit almost every performance passes over my head and some lose volume as a result but overall this lack of connection and engagement does little to spoil my enjoyment of the work and the respect I’ve built up over the past two weeks for the performers, directors, crew and organisers of this pert little festival. Well done, them! Actors, though, you need to be cleverer if you wish to engage everyone.
Checking out the programme I am happy to note that I’ve already seen six of the ten shows on offer but I do note one work whose presence in the final ten surprises me and the absence of one work (‘When the World Was Wide’), which causes me some considerable disappointment. C’est la vie, I think, that’s what happens when you have audience voting alongside guest judges: you end up with a representative bunch of shows that, on the basis of the performances that follow, have all rightly earned their prestigious place in the Gala final.
As if by some sort of déjà vu, the announcement reminding us to turn off our phones (the fellow sitting next to me must have missed this bit as he texts his girlfriend all throughout the evening), to refrain from taking photographs or video also reminds us to make sure we vote for our favourite play at the end of the evening. Yes, it is the same announcement used for earlier performances and, no, there is no voting at the Gala but the audience chuckles and no real damage is done.
First up is a personal favourite from the Week Two line-up ‘We Mean You No Harm Yet’ (writer Lisette de Jong (90%) and Mark Scott (4.5%), director Chris Anderson, produced by little L productions, cast: Mark Scott (Hrgg#haxz^rgh) [sic] & Lisette de Jong (Bl<rrghj*xwah) [sic]. The characters are delivered to the stage on sack trolleys dressed, as you would expect aliens in disguise to be clad, as a 1960s air hostess and ’70s musical superstar Adam Ant complete with the easily identified face paint. We’re not fooled for a moment.
Both actors have evolved fantastic alien-like mannerisms and the script is exceptional and often, I’m happy to say, quite outrageous. There are some cheapish jokes (Scott’s contribution, perhaps) – our ghost chips get a mention as does a very specific type of lamington, Donald Drumph (“We promised him his own country, we didn’t expect him to get this far – oops”) and some witty word play around malaise and mayonnaise – prove inordinately, and unexpectedly, popular. It’s super work and proves richer and more complete the second time around.
De Jong’s mimicking of “I grew up in rural New Zealand” is an absolute treasure. The acting remains top notch and de Jong is again quite superb. Being closer to the action this time makes sense of lines like “There will be no anal probing” because, unnoticed during the earlier outing, Scott is wearing an almost invisible rubber glove on one hand. Yes, this is a subtle show – if you just know where to look.
The aforementioned bizarre and smartly performed laughter motif (Week Two review) works extremely well, so much so that I think the actors might have, on occasion, varied it slightly and used it more. The work is delightfully complete, beautifully rehearsed and De Jong is again a star even in this tiny universe – but I said that already, oops. Scott ain’t too bad either and, overall, the show is “very exciting for us” as promised.
‘My Champion’ (writer/director Kerr Inkson, cast: Judi Lowry and Malcolm Beazley) toes that very fine line between what is acceptable and what might not be from a piece of social theatre. The programme advises “old soldier Charlie is fit, but his memory is going. His wife Doris is sharp, but wheelchair-bound. Can they avoid being institutionalised in the Serene Sunsets Rest Home?” We get what the programme promises and I’m so very glad we do.
Any show about encroaching dementia is bound to be problematic but writer Inkson and his excellent cast manoeuvre the potential pitfalls as though Sergeant Major Charlie himself is running the show. The set is simple but effective. A wheelchair, a comfy chair right next to it, a coffee table and a side table are all that’s needed because this piece works on the quality of the acting and the taut and thoughtful script. Charlie is dressed in his Sunday best, medals and all. He’s served in Korea, Malaya and Vietnam and reached the top of the non-commissioned officer food chain. Anyone who has served will tell you that it’s the Warrant Officers (first and second class) who run the army and Charlie wears this quality like a badge of honour. He’s still impressive – but his memory is going.
He and Doris have just had a visit from Miss Gibbs who is assessing them for possible relocation to Serene Sunsets Rest Home. The name Serene Sunsets Rest Home invokes a fear beyond words in me so heaven knows how Doris and Charlie feel about it. The narrative takes us through just enough examples of ‘Charlie’s losing the plot’ to not labour this delicate point but to enable us to still be comfortable with it, and, mercifully, there is only one joke at his expense: “How many Charlies does it take to change a lightbulb?” The relationship is delicately played and the love between the two is palpable.
Inkson’s work is rich in subtle nuances and his actors do him proud. We learn how the couple met: she was sixteen and he was just out of the army. He was a champion tennis player and she was his Belle of the Ball. Charlie demonstrates his tennis playing prowess – as good as Federer, she suggests – and Beazley is damn good even when using a fly swat as a racquet. Things have changed, though, and he is becoming a body without a brain and she a brain without a body.
It is a bit sad but the actors play against the sadness with subtlety and charm. It’s craftsman-like work and never diverts into the snake pit of the maudlin or the malady of self-pity. I enjoy it very much, feel that the applause could be louder, longer, and more effusive but I’ve long given up on Kiwi audiences ever responding relative to the true quality of what they’ve just experienced. It’s a shame, but there you are.
Placed in the middle of Part One is ‘93%’ (written and performed by Hamish Annan, directed by Cherie Moore). It was a hit on the first night and, if anything, this performance is even better. First we meet the Realisation Elf. He’s a butch wee bugger and he tells our Hamish exactly what he doesn’t want to hear. “You’re gay,” says the Elf. “No, no thank you,” mutters Hamish but the die is cast and there is no going back.
As he is born – metaphorically; some things are too complex to show even to an audience who cut their milk teeth on the internet – the ubiquitous Sharon tells him this is the very last vagina he will ever see. She also shares with him that he’s 93% gay which seems like a lot and probably does limit his options in the vag department. He gets his ‘Gay Welcome Pack’, his coffee mug, his Gay ID and his copy of the ‘agenda’. I find this reference to ‘the gay agenda’ hilarious and laugh like a drain. Fortunately most of the audience does too and I avoid winning a unique hyena status by a simple hair’s breadth.
Hamish – that’s Annan’s character’s name too – is in that foggy space where he doesn’t want to come out but a stronger force than even his keeps saying “do it, go on, stop this denial, do it” and of course he does and why would he not. Hamish is shown by Sharon just how cramped it is in the closet. Annan’s Sharon is sublime and comedy seldom gets better than this. Much laughter ensues.
Annan has great processes and from the intimacy of the front row it’s easy to see just how accurate and subtle his changes are as he morphs easily from one character to another. When he comes out to his Mum, her response is classic: “You’re my son and I love you but….” He makes a graph. It is annotated. It records his emotional ups and downs which range from ‘whaddaya mean no!’ to ‘don’t be too much of a princess’.
All this is suitably fabulous but perhaps the most memorable line of the evening comes from a friend whose response to Hamish being bullied is, “You’ve had a whole bunch of arseholes being arseholey arseholes.” Finally, after seeming to ‘swipe left’ for an interminable period of time, The Realisation Elf reappears and asks, “Have you come to a realisation on your own?” Of course Hamish has. He’s out and proud and living the life, and so he should be.
It’s an excellent script and Annan is beautifully directed as he flops and flounces his way through a dozen or more finely drawn characters who range from campy stereotypes to roughhewn reality. It resonates with me on both human and theatrical levels and I’m thrilled to say that a whole bunch of straight, cisgender people clearly agree with my choice and have thrusted Annan – may I use that word in this context? – into this final. Annan’s performance is exceptional and I can’t wait to see what this wonderful performer comes up with next.
‘Sainthood’ (writer Isabella McDermott, director Jordan Selwyn, produced by Become of Us; cast: Simone Walker, Holly Hudson & Anna Baird) is a story about a new “school nurse at St Teresa’s who has her fresh start threatened by a cunning student eager to pull back the curtain on a shameful secret.” The lights come up on a school Sick Bay complete with gurney, screens and Nurse Miller in full nursing attire. A student who is present explains, “I’m only here till my maths class is over.” She lies on the gurney behind the screen just in time to avoid the arrival of the principal.
As the plot unravels we find that the nurse is in fact the principal’s daughter and that the principal has created this nurse’s job for her because her daughter, in her previous job, put someone’s life in danger. The student overhears all this and on the departure of the principal demands to know the full story from Nurse Miller. It turns out that the nurse is actually a qualified doctor who lost a patient by not recognising that she had Type One diabetes and sending her home with an aspirin. Dr Miller, having lost the confidence of her patients and her community, appreciates her mother coming to the rescue with this new job but it does all seem to be unravelling.
The student, never one to miss an opportunity, makes it clear that the power in the room has shifted firmly into her court and the scene ends ominously with a throwaway line from the student. “Have a good first day Miss Miller.” We know she won’t – and that there will be many more horror days just like this one. The plot has some credibility issues but the acting is good and the production is effective over all.
The first half of the evening ends with a splendid ‘Alexander the Great’ (writer James C Ferguson, director Sananda Chatterjee, cast Mustaq Missouri, Roji Varghese, George Maunsell & Anisha Bhattacharya). “At the pinnacle of his success the young conqueror runs into a bit of a road block. What will he stop at?” Having burst across the Middle East invading and enslaving almost everyone, Alexander, it seems, finally meets his match. Striding to centre stage in the midst of a thunder storm he announces his arrival in classic fashion. He is dressed as a Roman general right down to the laurel leaves that sit upon his handsome brow.
This is somewhat confusing as Alex was Macedonian but this is a mere pretentious quibble. Watching this, and quaking with cold and possibly fear, three locals speak to each other about him, their beautiful English accents giving the lie to their eastern garb. Alexander is asked whether he is selling something and the three locals make it clear that if he is they are “Not in the buying vein today.” When, to impress these new people, he lists the countries he has invaded, he is asked, “What about the sun?” When he replies in the negative the locals tell him to conquer that and they will be impressed.
It’s pretty clear the locals are winning the battle of the burble. Alexander responds by reminding them that he is Alexander the Great and they ask, “Great, by what standard?” The question is asked again with the additional taunt, “Maybe you’re just Alex the Average” and yet another: “You’re certainly Alex the Aggravating,” which elicits an angry, “It’s Alexander!” before he stomps off in a magnificent conqueror’s huff. There is a suitably respectful pause before one of the family – I don’t catch which one – with exquisite timing and absolute panache brings the house down with a final, “He seemed nice.”
‘Alexander the Great’ is an excellent choice to end the first half and to send the appreciative audience out into the foyer for a well-earned glass of wine or even a nice cup of tea.
Part 2 opens with ‘How Violet Met Watson’ (writer, Susan Goodell, director, Rebekah Bourhill, cast: Natalie Crane & Jim Cawthorn). Following what seems to be a theme for the festival, this natty little piece describes itself as “the search for love in a world full of technology, smoke and mirrors.” Violet’s friends have forced her, she says, into the world of internet dating, during which she learns some important lessons.
Over the ten minutes duration of the play she meets a veritable telephone book of Watsons. There is Sleazy Watson, Fibbing Watson, Silent Watson, Crazy Watson, Hoody Watson, “You’ll just have to support me, eh” Watson, Cautious Watson and a series of Fortune 500 Watsons for whom the term ‘Fortune’ has many and varied explanations, none of them credible. The website she uses is ironically named ‘Sincere Singles’ but there is nothing sincere about it and there is no guarantee that any of the Watsons she meets are even single.
Violet discerns from her various paramours that she is “just not serious enough”, that she is “too serious”, that she is ‘too quiet”, “too gregarious’ and, as though these analyses were not enough, a final realisation that “there is nothing special about her at all”. With this litany of inadequacies in mind, Violet sets out to be, in fact, more memorable. Instead of working in a book shop she takes on the persona of the owner of a publishing company because it seems that most of the Watsons are only interested in a woman who owns something, who is the boss. She sheds her jacket, pads her bra, with the upshot being that she meets the Watson of her dreams.
It’s a charming wee script and a fun idea and both actors have fully explored the intricacies of this quirky text and bring it to vivid life. Jim Cawthorn plays all the Watsons with the rapidity of a Thomson gun and the pace set by Natalie Crane certainly doesn’t make it easy for him.
‘Slow Dating’, (writer Adam Szudrich, director Katie Burson, cast: Julie Collis) is, along with ‘93%’, a truly fine example of the art of solo performance. The programme tells us that “when an elderly lady tries speed dating it leads to a night with a charming stranger and a heart breaking revelation about her husband”.
While in some ways this description adequately sums up the story line it in no way suggests the excellence of Julie Collis’s performance. Balancing third person narrative with ‘in the moment’ reality, we live every moment of her journey from the discomfort she experiences when she first plays the speed dating game to the heart-breaking resolution and the painful final lines: “Visit me, love me but promise me you’ll let me go.” Collis creates her main protagonist, Leon, with such clarity that I feel I have known him for years. The delicate good humour of their one night stand is summed-up when they arrive at their pre-booked five star hotel and Leon registers as “Mr and Mrs Bum-Smells” and explains to the astonished clerk, “Its Dutch; my family was in the baked bean business.”
Collis is a master of the understatement and she uses this tool effectively throughout to generate an enchanting sense of naughty decorum that builds to a ‘will she, won’t she, of course she will, I can’t believe she just did that’ moment of truth. The audience is drawn deep into the beauty of this old style romance and we shamelessly egg her on when she tells us, “He said he was going to the bathroom to freshen up, like I need him to be any fresher.” It turns out that he had watched her take down the dating flyer from the notice board at the club and it seems, in retrospect, that Leon has set the whole thing up for her just as playwright Szudrich has done for us.
There are bittersweet moments too as she describes her trip home, alone in the back of the cab in the morning where, on this occasion, the driver gets all the red lights. It’s a beautiful script and an exceptional performance and the marriage of the two takes us on a journey that we will remember for a long time to come.
Beginning the countdown to the end is ‘Diary of a Break Up/Break Down’ (writer Alex Broun, director, Suzy Sampson, produced by Twice as Good Productions, cast: Alex Walker & Hannah Botha). Most of us have experienced the misfortune of having a relationship break down and, in the worst case scenario, break up. Having said that I think it’s only fair to share with you that, on a couple of occasions, I have been known, during a serious break up, to impose upon the world some of the worst, and most self-indulgent, poetry ever written. Not dissimilarly, these two characters have heard that writing their feelings down will help. It didn’t help me, and it certainly doesn’t help them.
Using the device of day-by-day diary entries and supported by some evocative video clips, we follow them from the hell of Day Two when waking up, and deciding not to go to work, seems like the sensible thing to do. Our male character observes, “You are not dead, though this must be what death feels like.”
On Day Five she resorts to prayer” “Please God bring him back to me. Kill her. No don’t kill her.” On Day Nine she tries not to think about the new ‘her’ in bed with old ‘him’ and on Day Eleven she resorts to ten tequila slammers. Day Thirteen is her birthday and we all know what that means.
On Day Sixteen he tries working out. On Day Fifteen she visits his Facebook which is a bad idea because He has written ‘met these total babes’ and again murder is in the air. There is a lovely fantasy moment where they meet each other at the supermarket and both threaten to kill themselves with a bag of frozen peas.
On Day Twenty Eight he resorts to righteous anger and masturbation but neither work. On Day Twenty Nine they each think they are feeling better. They risk looking at their reflections in the window of a bus and, surprise, surprise, healing has begun.
‘Diary of a Break Up/Break Down’ is structurally complex with potential pitfalls around the repetition but Botha and Walker are capable actors with a high degree of trust and they avoid each and every one of them.
‘Five in the Afternoon’ (based on poems by Spanish playwright Federico Garcia Lorca, director Marlon Ortiz, produced by Marvellous Theatre Group Inc and with a cast of fourteen). Lorca is treacherously difficult whether in the original Spanish or in English translation. There are layers upon layers of text and subtext and the nuances that enrich the work are often difficult to play for even the best and most experienced of actors. For this reason primarily, it’s my belief that ‘Five in the Afternoon’ needs to be evaluated using a different set of criteria to those used for the other works in this Gala programme because this is a large cast community theatre
Under the skilled direction of Marlon Ortiz, the cast deliver the basic narrative with great good humour and, as an older person myself, I have considerable appreciation for the professional attitude and hard work that this cast of seniors has put in. It’s attractively colourful, and it’s difficult to imagine a more magnificent collection of beautiful mantilla this side of Madrid. Special mention must also be made of the moments of true fear expressed by the entire cast when required, and the unifying change of tone brought about by the appearance of the moon. Towards the end of the performance a young woman appears and dances evocatively in a single spot. I note with admiration that, in any form of dance you can imagine, she would be considered to have exquisitely expressive hands.
This excellent evening of extraordinary short performances is brought to a close by ‘Keep Calm and Carry the Crumb’ (writers Cally Castell and Holly Hudson, director Damien Avery, produced by Schadenfreude Company, cast: Freya Boyle, Cally Castell, Holly Hudson & Tara Ranchhod). “Patty the Praying Mantis is a free woman. She’s got a new home, a new life and now she needs everyone to know just how fabulous she is.” So informs the programme. It’s not often that we have the privilege of a window into the insect world but if we did I’d like to hope it would be just like this one is.
Patty’s party is attended by Casper the Dung beetle, Babs the red ant and Lena the fly and observing their unique antics is more than a trifle interesting. Stephen has gone. We know that but is his departure the reason for the party? We don’t know that. We believe he has departed for Levin but even that is largely unstated. What to do, what to do? Patty tells us she and Stephen had natural chemistry. Babs, the red ant, has a new job. Tomorrow she will be required to have sex, lots and lots of sex. Right now though Babs has to settle with fucking the furniture. As you can imagine this is very funny.
Babs tells us “I’ve got a strong vibe” and we have no choice but to believe them. Lena, the fly, keeps wanting to touch Babs. Babs objects with “Don’t touch me, you have shit all over your hands.” Lena we discover, spends her day rolling in shit. She’s a fly so this should come as no surprise.
As with conventional plays about humans at parties there is a moment of crisis. For us this is when Patty owns up that she always vowed she wouldn’t be that kind of Mantis”. Ugly exchanges happen and eventually even Babs leaves. “Take the left over bruschetta,” Patty calls after her but Babs doesn’t and Patty is left alone with her thoughts. Just when we anticipate that the lights will go to black and this splendid interlude will be over Lena reappears and sits down with Patty. “This is your best party yet,” says Lena. “Happy birthday, Lena,” says Patty. Now it truly is the end and the lights fade to black. The audience erupts into applause most of which is for ‘Keep Calm and Carry the Crumb’ but some is simply to celebrate the entire two weeks of astonishing theatre.
On the surface ‘Keep Calm and Carry the Crumb’ is a simple allegory but dig down and you find it falls between the twin stools of satire and parody. Part of its raison d’être seems to be to expose the complexities of human social interactions. As always and without exception the need to be accepted is treacherously complex – especially if you’re a praying mantis who has just bitten the head off your husband at the zenith of orgasmic delight. The script is beautifully structured and delightfully outrageous with lines like Babs’, “I am a raging sexual being and I cannot be tamed” and Casper’s, “You told me Stephen [Patty’s husband] had moved to Levin.” But, again, it’s the acting, and in particularly that of Patty the Praying mantis herself (Cally Castell), that carries the day.
Has it been worth it to experience what has effectively been thirty pieces of theatre for me in ten days? Yes, it most certainly has. I’ve been exposed to some seriously inventive stuff, some fantastic performances, a bunch of amazingly good scripts; I’ve laughed like a mad person and had my withers wrung, so what’s to not like?
It’s a shame in a way that there have to be winners but it’s a competitive festival so that’s what it’s all about. Mostly I agree with the judges and what follows is what they decided. Congratulations to everyone who took part in whatever capacity and, as we say in our karate world, you never lose, you either win or you learn.
Here are the results from our Short+Sweet Theatre 2016 season:
SHORT+SWEET FESTIVAL AWARD (Certificate & wine)
‘We Mean You No Harm Yet’
Writer Lisette de Jong (90%) and Mark Scott (4.5%). Director Chris Anderson. Produced by little L productions. Cast Mark Scott (Hrgg#haxz^rgh) & Lisette de Jong (Bl<rrghj*xwah)
BEST NEW ZEALAND SCRIPT AWARD (Certificate & wine)
Hamish Annan – 93%
BEST SCRIPT AWARD (Certificate & wine)
Adam Szudrich – ‘Slow Dating’
BEST INDEPENDANT THEATRE COMPANY AWARD (Certificate & wine)
Marvellous Theatre Group Inc – ‘Five in the Afternoon’
BEST DIRECTOR (tied) (Certificate & wine)
Cherie Moore – ‘93%’ & Katie Burson – ‘Slow Dating’
BEST ACTOR (Certificate & wine)
Hamish Annan – ‘93%’
BEST ACTRESS (Certificate & wine)
Julie Collis – ‘Slow Dating’
WALLACE ARTS TRUST BEST EMERGING ARTIST AWARD (Certificate, wine & $500 cash prize)
Hamish Annan – ‘93%’
WALLACE ARTS TRUST BEST EMERGING ARTIST AWARD (Certificate, wine & $500 cash prize)
Julie Collis – ‘Slow Dating’
WALLACE ARTS TRUST BEST ENSEMBLE AWARD (Certificate, wine & $300 cash prize)
‘Alexander the Great’ – Writer: James C Ferguson; Director: Sananda Chatterjee; Cast: Mustaq Missouri, Roji Varghese, George Maunsell & Anisha Bhattacharya
WALLACE ART TRUST HIGHLY COMMENDED AWARD (Certificate & wine)
‘Five in the Afternoon’ – Based on poems by Spanish playwright Federico Garcia Lorca. Director Marlon Ortiz, Produced by Marvellous Theatre Group Inc. Cast Ferooz Afsher, Patricia Noonan , Andrew Maher, Christina Pusztay, Karen Staniland, Marianne Simpkins, Ora Lefebvre, Pat Quirke, Rosalie Williams, Rosslyn Smillie, Marjory Vinet, Valerie Leech, Lesley Reihana & Georgia Reihana-Wilson
SHORT+SWEET FESTIVAL JUDGES’ CHOICE AWARD (Certificate, wine & $500 cash prize)
‘Slow Dating’ – Writer Adam Szudrich, Director Katie Burson Cast Julie Collis
SHORT+SWEET FESTIVAL PEOPLE’S CHOICE AWARD (Certificate, wine & $500 cash prize)
‘93%’ – Writer Hamish Annan, Director Cherie Moore, Produced by Fugue Productions Cast Hamish Annan
Copyright © belongs to the reviewer