Aptly billed as a physical theatre, comedy ‘Why Do I Dream?’, performed and devised by Sydney-based Sabrina D’Angelo, opened last night at Gryphon Theatre in central Wellington.    

This show generally traces the narrative of  ‘Madame Bovary’ by Gustave Flaubert and is also peppered with tales from Sabrina’s own past. Structurally it weaves between sincerely delivered, concise text and absurd, physical, silent scenarios.   

Armed with a fanny pack full of foldable props Sabrina is a magician of sorts, consistently surprising with wild comic acts, which correlate, and provide a counter, to the traditionally delivered ‘story’. She is an exceptionally diverse performer, physically and vocally –  and she is also a wonderful host.

Full credit to Sabrina D’Angelo as she easily carries her small audience with her throughout the duration of the work. It would be brilliant to see this show played to a fuller house. You could imagine the volume of contagious laughter that would reverberate throughout space. Infecting all. So help make it happen! With a 9.30pm start it’s a perfect dinner and show combo night. 

____________________________
For more production details, click on the title above. Go to Home page to see other Reviews, recent Comments and Forum postings (under Chat Back), and News.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

Sadly, not many people decided to come out to the Fringe Bar tonight. I would say the more affluent are at an Arts Festival show while the typically less are spending their time and money at the bar during Orientation Week. No need to explain who this group is. The Fringe punters that are here tonight are in good spirits however, which is the main thing for most comedy actors.  

Sabrina D’Angelo starts by admitting she had no idea she was Chinese until she was 16. This is well received albeit a tad hesitantly for any PC New Zealander anxious about potential racial slurs. She explains she will be taking us on a physical journey through Flaubert’s Madame Bovary and reads a summarized passage from a paperback. But this is for the most part the only speaking we hear from D’angelo.

If you know the novel well, you may loosely follow the physically re-enacted story line. If not, you are still in for a positively absurd show. Key word: positively.

Her body comedy executed with dedication, patience and without fear of discomfort. More than once, we are astounded as D’Angelo throws herself fully in to what would be, and probably have been, others’ nightmares. Her nether regions are referred to on several occasions and by using several different objects. At one point, a terrified audience member is heard saying, “I’ve never nearly been violated by a teddy before.” Well, D’Angelo practically was. I would be calling the cops had her own hand not been in control of the bear!

Her use of props is ever surprising, notably the bum bag she wears, which is so much more. It is a strangely sexual monster and from it emerge the props. One thin pale pink scarf is presented and re-created to represent several different characters while a simple plastic bag becomes a nappy, a phallic symbol and a man’s beard. She is an everyday-object illusionist.

D’Angelo has more commitment than a suicide bomber and is a practiced actor, which is most apparent through isolation. The seemingly disconnected way in which her body moves makes it seem as if each limb has its own brain. While her face creates the most amazing expressions, her arms are entirely different entities portraying different characteristics and motivations.  

It’s not 100% physical though. She stops at appropriate points to either summarize the next chapters in the novel or to give the audience a small break from interpreting her movements. The self-created and self titled ‘Intermission Impossible’ displays her capability in delivering a punch line as audience members are tricked into being the joke (in a completely harmless, non-red-cheek-inducing-way). 

It is an intimate performance, and not just because there isn’t much of a crowd. Not once does D’Angelo hold back from creating those frozen moments of awkwardness-forcing. If this really is a re-enactment of a 19^th Century French novel, I wish I’d had her as a teacher in high school.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer