He Died with a Felafel in his Hand
By John Birmingham
Adapted by Simon Bedak, Steve le Marquand and Simon Neaylon
Directed by Lewis Jones for Someone
Starring Lucas Stibbard, Judy Hainsworth, Louise Brehmer, Bridget Boyle, Stefan Cooper-Fox and Leon Cain
Roundhouse Theatre until December 17
Four stars out of five
THE Queensland Theatre Company may have chosen to end the year with a classic tale of redemption in A Christmas Carol, but Someone has opted for something very different.
Someone is director Lewis Jones’s theatre company which has chosen to revive its five-year-old production of the rude, crude and totally hilarious He Died with a Felafel in his Hand, adapted from John Birmingham’s novel about house sharing.
First, a warning: the language is explicit and unrelenting, there are simulated sex scenes and other sexual references, more drug references than you can poke a stick out – although, it must be said, some sort of moral stance is taken on the hard stuff – and jokes made at the expense of the law-enforcement authorities.
Having said all that, it may seem redundant to add that it’s a play aimed largely at a relatively young, broadminded audience, and that it will especially resonate with those people who have had the experience of living with extremely strange strangers.
The other point worth making before I go any further is that, despite the involvement of professional actors and the use of the Roundhouse Theatre, this is not a production of the La Boite company. Jones has put his own money on the line here, and the cast have entered into a profit-sharing deal.
Lucas Stibbard plays John Birmingham, an experienced house-sharer who tells a young housemate who’s in her first home away from home about his adventures with about 100 people in a dozen different houses
It is, as the script acknowledges, a pretty flimsy plot device. But this isn’t really a play at all; it’s a collection of loosely connected comedy sketches on the same theme.
Over the next two hours (including the “two-beer interval”), we meet one dysfunctional human being after another, including a heroin addict who pegs out (yes, with a felafel in his hand) just as the police come knocking on the door, a dodgy bloke with a blow-up doll and a partiality for Swank magazine, a masturbating “moon tanner”, a mind-altered rocker with a ferocious sexual appetitie, a whip-lashing dominatrix with a very high-profile client, some happy clappers, a television reporter and the central character’s apparently strait-laced parents.
Along the way, there are instructions on making bucket bongs and fish-finger pie, a spitting competition and some of the most unhygienic practices known to humankind.
The ensemble cast – Bridget Boyle, Louise Brehmer, Leon Cain, Stefan Cooper-Fox, Judy Hainsworth – work their way through scores of characters and situations at breakneck speed.
Not everything works, but it moves along so quickly that it hardly matters. At times, it’s pretty rough around the edges, but that just adds to its charm.
If the sex, drugs and rock’n’roll, and the fruity language don’t offend, you’ll either find this infectiously funny or incredibly juvenile. Or both.
Highlights for me included Cain’s business with the blow-up doll (including nods to Dirty Dancing and Swan Lake); the cleverly choreographed torch parade that begins the second act; a conversation composed entirely of rhyming slang and other clichés; Hainsworth’s impersonation of a bored pole dancer; and the fresh jokes at the expense of baggage handlers, Michelle Leslie and the Brisbane arts scene.
What a joy at this time of year to be able to switch the brain into neutral and enjoy a night at the theatre with no pretensions, no deep and meaningful messages and no particular agenda.
The opening-night performance received one of the most rousing receptions I’ve seen in a theatre in a long, long time. It was, of course, a friendly, invited crowd, but I have a feeling there’ll be many more ovations before this short season is done.
Adapted by Simon Bedak, Steve le Marquand and Simon Neaylon
Directed by Lewis Jones for Someone
Starring Lucas Stibbard, Judy Hainsworth, Louise Brehmer, Bridget Boyle, Stefan Cooper-Fox and Leon Cain
Roundhouse Theatre until December 17
Four stars out of five
THE Queensland Theatre Company may have chosen to end the year with a classic tale of redemption in A Christmas Carol, but Someone has opted for something very different.
Someone is director Lewis Jones’s theatre company which has chosen to revive its five-year-old production of the rude, crude and totally hilarious He Died with a Felafel in his Hand, adapted from John Birmingham’s novel about house sharing.
First, a warning: the language is explicit and unrelenting, there are simulated sex scenes and other sexual references, more drug references than you can poke a stick out – although, it must be said, some sort of moral stance is taken on the hard stuff – and jokes made at the expense of the law-enforcement authorities.
Having said all that, it may seem redundant to add that it’s a play aimed largely at a relatively young, broadminded audience, and that it will especially resonate with those people who have had the experience of living with extremely strange strangers.
The other point worth making before I go any further is that, despite the involvement of professional actors and the use of the Roundhouse Theatre, this is not a production of the La Boite company. Jones has put his own money on the line here, and the cast have entered into a profit-sharing deal.
Lucas Stibbard plays John Birmingham, an experienced house-sharer who tells a young housemate who’s in her first home away from home about his adventures with about 100 people in a dozen different houses
It is, as the script acknowledges, a pretty flimsy plot device. But this isn’t really a play at all; it’s a collection of loosely connected comedy sketches on the same theme.
Over the next two hours (including the “two-beer interval”), we meet one dysfunctional human being after another, including a heroin addict who pegs out (yes, with a felafel in his hand) just as the police come knocking on the door, a dodgy bloke with a blow-up doll and a partiality for Swank magazine, a masturbating “moon tanner”, a mind-altered rocker with a ferocious sexual appetitie, a whip-lashing dominatrix with a very high-profile client, some happy clappers, a television reporter and the central character’s apparently strait-laced parents.
Along the way, there are instructions on making bucket bongs and fish-finger pie, a spitting competition and some of the most unhygienic practices known to humankind.
The ensemble cast – Bridget Boyle, Louise Brehmer, Leon Cain, Stefan Cooper-Fox, Judy Hainsworth – work their way through scores of characters and situations at breakneck speed.
Not everything works, but it moves along so quickly that it hardly matters. At times, it’s pretty rough around the edges, but that just adds to its charm.
If the sex, drugs and rock’n’roll, and the fruity language don’t offend, you’ll either find this infectiously funny or incredibly juvenile. Or both.
Highlights for me included Cain’s business with the blow-up doll (including nods to Dirty Dancing and Swan Lake); the cleverly choreographed torch parade that begins the second act; a conversation composed entirely of rhyming slang and other clichés; Hainsworth’s impersonation of a bored pole dancer; and the fresh jokes at the expense of baggage handlers, Michelle Leslie and the Brisbane arts scene.
What a joy at this time of year to be able to switch the brain into neutral and enjoy a night at the theatre with no pretensions, no deep and meaningful messages and no particular agenda.
The opening-night performance received one of the most rousing receptions I’ve seen in a theatre in a long, long time. It was, of course, a friendly, invited crowd, but I have a feeling there’ll be many more ovations before this short season is done.
