Last night we went to see the renowned John Malkovich in Giacomo Variations at the Sydney Opera House. I had high expectations after seeing him in many movies and having gone to the Steppenwolf Theatre Company’s “August: Osage County“ production at Sydney Theatre Company last year. It was a tour de force – possibly the best theatre I’ve seen in years. Malkovich is one of the founding actors of this Chicago-based group.
After paying $125 a seat plus $35 for parking, not forgetting the least memorable Chandon NV (for another $20 the pair), we abandoned our massive holiday treat investment at interval and didn’t return.
I’m not a huge fan of operetta or whatever the format of Giacomo Variations actually is (they called it a “staged performance”) – orchestra, opera-like singing, sort-of-lavish costumes, surtitles, spoken dialogue – but I was hoping for a lot more from John Malkovich.
I rate the acting and direction as poor, but it seemed that the real problem was with the source material – an old Casanova retelling the seductions of his youth. Sad and pathetic. The leading part was weak, his performance tepid and the overall subject matter and production was really crook.
And I have to say that this is not the first time I have been suckered by a big name in the Sydney festival. When Cate Blanchett starred in War of the Roses, she set the low bar. Incredibly minimalist set, lacklustre cast, forgettable dialogue, truly uninspired direction.
It seemed that the organisers had fubbed it by spending all their dough on one big name – neglecting all the other things that make a memorable performance.
That just about sums it up for me with John Malkovitch as well.
I’d like to say that the music and songs were memorable, but I’d be fibbing.
One chap actually booed after about ten minutes and saved the OH staff from ejecting him – being the first to walk out unaided; unlike the ABC luminaries sitting in front of us who just dozed quietly through the first half. So tired from working on the First Tuesday Book Club and Talking Heads, probably.
A colleague at work wanted to go and see Giacomo Variations – but last night he was preparing for a colonoscopy. I reckon we saw more crap than he did.
If you missed Giacomo Variations, you were lucky indeed. And richer for the experience.
* In fairness to John Malkovich, he read an Allen Ginsberg anti-war poem – accompanying – or accompanied by Philip Glass last Tuesday at the Sydney Recital Hall. And he was brilliant; the highlight of that performance.
Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle 
Hmm. Going out to see things. Seems that is what’s fallen off the Life List this month.
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Daughter saw something called ‘The Red Shoe’ yesterday, I think it was at the Seymor centre; she quite liked but, but the friend got a bit bored…
At least they did not pay the full ticket price, they got them cheaply on ebay…(I think.)
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Thanks H. I was thinking of buying tickets because – as you probably have realised – we’ve been dudded this year. I think we’re better off just calling it quits and writing the Festival off altogether. In contrast with a couple of years ago, the city is pretty quiet. Apart from the disappointing array of events – and the disappointing quality of the ones to which we’ve been “lucky” enough to score tickets – the festival spirtit – like the effervescent Olympic spring is missing this year.
But the water is warm and the swimming is very good 🙂
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Right there with you, Ems!
I found it a far more gratifying experience to walk out of a bad production than actually sitting through it. One, of course would find it an even more gratifying experience if the production was great but, when that fails, then the next best thing by far is the act of walking out, turning your back on bullshit and letting the bullshit artists know you’ve done so. Sitting in there, seething with disappointment is not good. Walk out. Booing, too, is, to my mind, OK.
They used to throw peanuts at the actors, back in ancient Greece. Very few bad productions back then.
Far more gratifying by far!
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There you go, ‘Mou. Always an education. Now I am apprised of the etymology of the term “peanut gallery” 🙂
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Stick with me kid. I’ll learn ya lotsa stuffs! I’m a ancient Greek.
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Umm … ato. It would have been a long trip to South America to get peanuts in what were essentially the oversized canoes with sails on that the ancient Greeks used to travel over water.
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Voice, you’re trying to steal my golden scepter of “Dogma!”
It is MINE, I tell you, MINE!
Oh, all right. They weren’t peanuts; they were roasted chick peas, roasted broad beans, walnuts, dried figs and cloves of garlic which they’d chew raw with great relish. I just thought that it’d be easier for Emms to draw the comedic parallels which he did.
Spoil sport!
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Guilty as charged, ato. I knew you knew.
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Yes,
A colonoscopy at Concord Repat. has always been in a theatre as well. Afterwards a gentle awakening with free sandwiches or some soup.
I shall ask them to put a video of Uncle Vanya on next time.
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…nearly as exciting as defaecation.
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Pardon?
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If it’s not good, one might as well walk out…Gez once walked out of movies just because the place stank of buttery popcorn , and it was an enjoyable film, no Malkovitch in it, who is usually pretty good.
My man has his standards, his yardstick…
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Sometimes there is nothing better than abandoning an expensive plan. I remember a tour of a tropical island, where I abandoned the others for a sleep on the sand. Oh that sand.
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