Anitgone [interview]

Anyone familiar with Schvendes will not be surprised to see the Perth band’s frontwoman Rachel Dease involved with a Greek tragedy. No stranger to the darker side of art, she has carved a reputation for herself as a lady of torch songs and sweetly threatening vocals. In Matthew Lutton’s contemporary adaptation of Sophocles’ Antigone, Dease seems at home, charting the play’s emotions through song – but these compositions are not quite as dark as could have been expected.

“I had to kind of leave all of my prejudice and my style, in a lot ways, behind,” Dease explains. “Even though melodically and harmonically and even lyrically to a certain degree they’re definitely the kind of songs I would write, they’re still different. I had to fill a role in that project.”

Dease’s songs with Schvendes have all been self-contained stories of misery, and their video clips have been sprinkled with gothic visions of smoky forests and deserted dolls. The minor, bluesy strains of these songs have on countless occasions been compared to Nick Cave and PJ Harvey, but Dease warns that the songs that she’s written for Antigone mark a departure from her usual style.

“I think that, because the play is really dark and powerful, I didn’t want to do the obvious and write really dark, gloomy, songs. I’ve really tried to play on my light side as much as I can, because it’s just too obvious and it’s just too much. I’ve noticed recently that there are a lot more major chords in Antigone than there in Schvendes – which I think I’ll probably stick with for a while. But I done it; I think I’ve nailed it.”

Dease also seems to have also extracted the positives from the story itself. As a classic tragedy, Antigone offers plenty of cause for despair. The play details Antigone’s unlawful attempts to respectfully bury dead brother after he has been declared a traitor, and her subsequent punishment. Dease argues, however, that even the play’s antagonist. Creon, can be seen positively.

“I think Antigone can a probably a role model for both males and females, in her strength and resolve, but I also think Creon is an unusual role model in many ways too, maybe more so than Antigone. Creon is someone battling with that timeless conflict between what we think is right for our society and what we truly believe, and that’s what Antigone is all about… Those base emotions make it so relevant to contemporary society and politics. They are the reason why it works to adapt this play, and to bring it into a contemporary context.”

In Lutton’s adaptation, traditional dialogue and story will meet modern set design, costume and music. Dease gushes enthusiastically about a stage covered in “blood, milk and snow,” but falters and stresses that the visual set-up can’t be adequately described without being seen.

“I’m very exciting about seeing it come together now, with the stage set-up,” she says. “I really love the mechanics of theatre and I’ve been loving watching [the set designer] bring it all together. I think if I wasn’t a musician I might want to do that - it’s like putting together a really intricate doll’s house… That’s a new thing for me, I didn’t think that before I got involved in this play.”

As Dease continues describing the backstage processes, she seems to become more and more enthusiastic. She paints a picture of idyllic collaboration and teamwork, with musician, director, set/costume designer and playwright gathering to discuss the characters and ideas, then to workshop the play repeatedly, until general consensus was reached.

“[Our opinions] always seemed to change, all the time!” she laughs. “Month after month we seemed to have different opinions on each character and who our favourite characters are. And I basically took several interpretations of the characters away and tried to get into the heads and the emotions and the thought processes of each of them.”

From there, Dease worked alone with the suggested ideas and overarching emotions to create appropriate songs. For her, such solitary composition was another first: “I felt quite isolated. I mean, in a band, we all bounce ideas off each other and we’re all musicians, and obviously we all have an idea of what she should sound like, whereas in this it became quite a solo process for a very long time. I’ve only just started working with the musicians quite recently.”

Dease expects that these experiences might influence her work with Schvendes: “I’ve definitely explored avenues that I probably wouldn’t have without doing this play, like the isolated writing, and I can’t see myself forgetting that. I think that might seep into the band.”

Despite these times of concentrated individual work though, Dease maintains that the intense period of brainstorming had an immeasurably large impact over her work. “I’ve never been involved in a project like this before,” she explains. “I was just really surprised that so many really different creative minds can work together and somehow produce a work that’s really quite unified. We haven’t had disagreements on how to approach it, it’s always been a very open discussion and everyone seems to have found a way to personally approach it that fits in with everyone else really well.”

Interestingly, the play is dominated by young people – Lutton himself only in his mid-20s. For Dease, this in itself carried a certain appeal: “It’s been a real blessing to work with so many young people and know that there is a really bright future in the arts in Australia,” she concludes. “In many ways I feel like the grown-up there…. I’m not like the parent, but I sort of feel like the weird older sister or something. And Matt’s the very practical younger brother who gets everyone together and keeps everyone in line.”

Out of a play about family tragedy then, a makeshift family emerges. And one of Perth’s soulfully dark musicians is somewhere in the middle of it.

WHAT: Antigone

WHEN & WHERE: Subiaco Arts Theatre, Saturday 21 Feb – Saturday 7 March.

Lemon Tree

Amongst PIAF’s more ‘topical’ film entries this year is The Lemon Tree, from Israeli writer/director Eran Riklis, and his Palestian-Israeli co-writer Suha Arraf (both of whom worked on The Syrian Bride.) Based on a true story, this film centres around Palestinian widow Salma (Hiam Abbass), who lives right on the West Bank’s border Palestinian-Israeli border. Salma’s three children have all grown and moved on, and now she spends her days lovingly tending a lemon tree grove left behind for her by her late father, from which she earns a modest living. Everything seems hunky dory, until the Israeli defence minister moves in opposite her, on the other side of the border. His security team ruthlessly dubs the lemon grove a “security threat” and orders its destruction. Salma, who has little else in her life, decides to fight against the order by launching an appeal, despite strong discouragement from her Palestinian neighbours.

This conflict is obviously intended as a micro version of the larger political situation that surrounds it. In this respect, the film seems a little too safe. The characters are all likeable, and the ‘enemy’ is the completely undeveloped secret service representative. The film’s strength instead lies in its depiction of wordless human connection. In her rebellious attempts to water the grove (despite strict orders against this), Salma shares eye contact with the defence minister’s wife, Mira (Rona Lipaz-Michael), who watches from her balcony or patio. As Salma’s defiance clashes with Mira’s helplessness, the two seem to empower one another, through stares alone. Likewise, Riklis skilfully negotiates Salma’s unique relationship with her much younger lawyer, Ziad (Ali Sulliman). Politics may encroach from all sides here, but ultimately it is Salma’s (and Mira’s, to a certain extent) personal growth that forms the core of this film.

You the Living

This week’s PIAF film is certainly a strange one. In it, a rich man brags about his decadent dinner, only to have his wallet stolen before he can may the bill. A bored man drags his unanimated dog behind him. An overweight older woman complains about being unloved, but then ignores the compliments of her adoring husband. These images are then combined with fifty or more, forming a scattered collection of austere vignettes, all set against the backdrop of an overcast Nordic city. There is no narrative chronology here, but the vignettes all seem to stem from the quote that opens the film: “Be pleased then, you the living one, in your delightfully warmed bed, before Lethe’s ice-cold wave will lick your escaping foot” (Goethe). These are stories about greed, waste and apathy.
This is Sweden’s cinematic answer to Samuel Beckett, but in amongst the gloomy portraits there are beautiful visions. Every shot is a perfect picture, whether it’s the image of an oil painting falling into a living room aquarium, or a happy couple getting married aboard a moving train-house. The visuals will hit you first, and then the themes will strike with power. The commentary of director Roy Andersson snowballs dramatically, growing cumulatively in force with each additional vignette. He plays alternately with clarity and with confusion to push forward a trite message in a new and persuasive matter. The film may not be to everyone’s taste, but, for those that are sucked in, its hypnotic force is unshakable.

Days and Clouds

This week’s PIAF drama, Days and Clouds, might seem a little familiar to those well-acquainted with recent Italian drama. Like last year’s comedy, Her Whole Life Ahead, Days and Clouds similarly opens on a woman deftly defending her degree, and it similarly moves past this to prove that such achievements offer little solace in harsh economic times. The difference here, however, is that this time the woman at the centre is Elsa (Margherita Buoy) – a middle-aged mother who has long been enjoying the luxuries of her husband Michele’s comfortable salary. She’s barely had the time to recover from her post-completion hangover before Michele (Antonio Albanese) reveals that he’s been out of work for two months, and that they now have little over 20,000 euros. Their comfortable life of travel, art, and celebration is no longer a viable option.

As the couple adjust to their severe income cut, Days and Clouds unfolds simultaneously as a social snapshot and a character study. It explores the realistic (and topical) possibilities that could send an affluent couple down this path, and looks critically at Italian corporate culture. At the same time, though, the film is an intimate look at Elsa and Michele’s personal reactions to the change. It’s difficult not to be moved by the look of humiliation of Michele’s face when his daughter spots him working as a courier, or by Elsa’s reluctant departure from her passion of art restoration towards long working hours in mind-numbing occupations. At moments the film does seem to drag, and the performances are perhaps not entirely flawless, but Elsa and Michele’s relationship remains a constant source of intrigue. It is their haphazard alternation of resistance and resignation that keeps Days and Clouds interesting