Theatre is a dream space.
We settle
into chairs, sometimes cushioned, sometimes uncomfortable, and are lulled into
another world. We are grounded and open to new experiences. We have no control
over what comes next, but as with lucid dreaming, we can choose to go with the show or not.
The best
theatre can be chaotic and drag us through or it can be gentle, hold our hands
and whisper into our ears and our subconscious. It can tell us a story or give
us an experience and leave us with a generous hint of someone else’s
life.
Michelle McCowage’s night sweat is a theatrical translation of their experiences as
a sleepwalker. They lie face down on the ground as the audience enters the
space and only gains the energy to wake as we focus on them, encouraged by
collaborator and live music composer, Kyle Muir.
We meet an
angel who watches Michelle and speaks with an ethereal voice that echoes
through the space. We meet a masc fuckboi. We meet Hugo Weaving playing Ernest Shackleton
at the MTC.
And we are
inundated with scents and sounds and noises from the restaurant next door,
because of course, it’s Melbourne Fringe and every space is a performance
space. But even the reality of that bleeds into the show as a kind of
unreality; dream logic that we can wave away.
McCowage’s text
is precise where it needs to be, but it’s flexible, contorting with the
audience response and the outside noise. There’s some clever improvisation in
there, complementing their open, honest performance of a very personal
experience of sleeping, waking, dream and nightmare.
Their
physicality is captivating, too. The movements of a dancer. The twists and grimace
of a clown. We can see the actor pushing themselves and experimenting and know
that it’s intrinsically tied to their experience of uncontrol when they should
be at rest.
So many
one-person shows try a myriad of tones and styles just to show off, as a kind
of audition to whoever shows up. In night sweat, we are in better hands –
beautifully written, movingly choreographed and gently done.
The live
score and soundscape add a real depth to the experience, too. Kyle acts as an
accomplice and a sounding board and a supporting actor, but he also plays
guitar and rings bells and records and replays as he goes. If McCowage is
flexible in their performance, the sound design is, too. It’s magical.
Theatre is
a dreamspace that can be joyful and awful and sometimes slept through.
night sweat gently guides us into a likeness of McCowage’s life as a sleepwalker, but it also digs into their life as a performer, a person with visions and a non-binary witch. It’s a genuinely exciting piece of theatre that I had to wake up from, but it left me with a warm glow.
night sweat is on at Melbourne Fringe until Oct 8.
Photographs by Ainsley Halbmeijer
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