MUSIC
Playlunch ★★★★
170 Russell, September 19
If you haven’t waved a pool noodle above the crowd and screamed about grabbing a “double case of Passiona straight from IGA”, have you even lived?
That’s the motto at tonight’s launch of Sex Ed, the second LP in two years from Melbourne’s proudly puerile Playlunch. Led by frontman and producer Liam Bell, the seven-piece “bogan funk” band emerged out of a lockdown project three years ago. Now, thanks to a string of viral videos and Bell’s knack for marrying catchy pop-funk with references to extremely 2000s online culture, they’ve attracted a sold-out crowd of 1000 tonight.
Playlunch drew a sellout crowd of 1000.Credit: Martin Philbey
Billed as “the house band at Australia’s rowdiest backyard pool party,” Playlunch own the part, arriving on stage in school shorts, tracksuits, sunscreen and the mirrored sunnies of kids hanging around the train station. They open with Station Rat – about kids hanging around the train station. From there, it’s a tightly choreographed whip through a relentlessly fun set of cheap booze-fuelled tunes about Bunnings, boys’ nights, puberty, YoGo and cult ’90s French children’s show Soupe Opera.
If it sounds childish, it is. Dotted around the venue are laminated classroom posters for sunscreen, contraception, “Learn French!” and Ancient Civilisations. It’s a clever extension of the knowing camaraderie Playlunch have fostered to find their audience: a giddy cross-section of kids in dress-ups, metal T-shirts, rainbow flags, and canvas hats bearing the band’s “No Hat? No Play” motto that keeps the merch desk ticking over. Playlunch play with the playground looking back at them.
“Holy shit, this is more people than we’ve ever seen before,” says Bell following a rowdy reception to Pash – a song about drinking and pashing.
Playlunch unleashed a fun set of cheap booze-fuelled tunes.Credit: Martin Philbey
There is an underbelly here: for every hilarious colloquialism about getting pissed, bongs, or unhinged neighbours – see the rabidly received Keith, complete with video featuring former AFL hardman Barry Hall dancing – there’s a whiff of celebrating ugly Aussie behaviour vs skewering it. Songs like Blue Light Disco, Foxtel Girl and Real Estate Apps are objectively funny, but also about class divides and a youthful yearning to transcend them. But in tonight’s sweatbox, no one cares.
“You see, we come so far from a year ago, making fat beats on my MacBook Pro,” sings Bell in Cool Math Games to the pogo-ing room. “Tryna get ticket to the sold-out show, but the Lunch too hot (and we’re ready to blow).” Playlunch have officially come.
Reviewed by Marcus Teague
MUSICAL
MJ the Musical ★★★★
Her Majesty’s Theatre, from September
If jukebox musicals were judged purely on the popularity of their playlists, MJ the Musical would be widely regarded as the greatest of all time. In terms of artistic innovation and cultural influence, nobody did more than Michael Jackson to usher in pop music as we know it today.
Ilario Grant stars as Michael Jackson.Credit: Jason South
Generations of fans will be irresistibly drawn to the endless stream of bangers. For many, me included, Jackson’s music provided a soundtrack to childhood and adolescence, though the problem for a biographical musical is obvious.
What do you do about Jackson’s increasingly eccentric, reclusive, troubled later life, when he was dangling his baby son from a hotel balcony, battling an addiction to prescription painkillers and – most notoriously – facing child sex abuse charges (of which he was acquitted) in a sensational trial?The book of the musical, written by acclaimed playwright Lynn Nottage, cannily refocuses the lens without whitewashing anything.
It’s set during rehearsals for the 1992-1993 Dangerous world tour. MJ (Ilario Grant) is a global phenomenon, and we’re taken behind the scenes into a world of creative ferment where MJ is desperately trying to outdo his last record-breaking success, as the seeds of the future are still being sown, and childhood memories rise to torment him.
In fact, the musical features three Michael Jacksons: little Michael (on opening night, William Bonner), child star of The Jackson 5; Michael as a young man (Liam Damons), leaving his band of brothers and the world of Motown behind to pursue a solo career; and early 90s MJ.
Expect to see all of Michael Jackson’s trademark moves in MJ The Musical.Credit: Daniel Boud
All three are instantly recognisable portrayals of Jackson in various eras, led by Grant’s incarnation of the unearthly, softly spoken “King of Pop” at the height of his powers. The last is brilliant – a feat of charismatic impersonation equal to Ruva Ngwenya’s performance as Tina Turner last year, though with a weaker arc and a more diverse skill set.
A consummate entertainer, Jackson reinvented music videos and popular choreography, as well as innovating vocally, and dance is a major drawcard in this production.
You can expect all the trademarks – the moonwalking, the crotch-grabs, the anti-grav leans – and director and choreographer Christopher Wheeldon has devised thrilling ensemble routines inspired by street dancing from the period … and, of course, the immortal zombie-dancing from the Thriller music video. Dynamic spectacle and pop concert-style numbers are interwoven with sensitively acted drama. The abuse Michael suffered at the hands of his father Joseph (Derrick Davis) is pitilessly rendered, as is the racism which motivated Joseph’s cruelty and the relentlessness of his ambition for his children.
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Pressing the songs into dramatic service isn’t always cleanly achieved. Fans will enjoy novel arrangements, particularly haunting duets between Michael Jacksons at different life stages, despite a few spell-breaking moments in transitions between music and stage action.
Still, the cast is fabulously talented, and I don’t see how MJ the Musical could be performed much better. It isn’t quite on par, artistically, with the highest echelon of jukebox musicals – Tina, say, or Jersey Boys – but maybe it doesn’t need to be. Not with a music catalogue as legendary as this.
The show is sure to lure anyone who loves Michael Jackson songs, while providing insight into the social barriers he broke down, and an intimate look at all he suffered through to launch his iconic career.
Reviewed by Cameron Woodhead
THEATRE
Job ★★★★
Red Stitch Theatre, until October 12
The traditional psychologist-patient relationship is upended in Job, an American play by Max Wolf Friedlich that staged on Broadway after a highly vaunted off-Broadway run. Under Nadia Tass’ direction, the play’s hyper-specific setting of Californian tech bros, open access to guns, and a society exceedingly polarised along racial and class lines comes to Red Stitch.
Jessica Clarke as Jane and Darren Gilshenan as Loyd, in Red Stitch’s claustrophobic play, Job. Credit: Sarah Walker
Job immediately catapults us into the heart of the action. Jane is aiming a gun at Loyd, even before the appointment between her (a 20-something patient) and him (a 60-something psychologist) has started. Through jarring flashes of light, we witness them in various scenarios until the stage is bathed in a clinical, overpowering brightness – we’re about to learn everything that led up to this moment and what transpires in its aftermath.
Jane and Loyd are holding each other hostage in different yet significant ways – Jane has a gun, while Lloyd has the power to authorise Jane’s return to work after her publicly filmed breakdown caused her to be placed on mandatory leave. Under Jacob Battista’s eye, the stage is reconstructed to look like an anodyne consultation room, but the power dynamics are constantly shifting as both characters pace around the stage, assuming varying positions of command and surrender as they circle one another.
Key information is withheld from us, but we gradually come to learn more about the circumstances surrounding both characters. Jane works in “user care”, a shorthand for a most horrifying job, and by the end, we learn what is symbolised by David Parker’s masterful strokes of discordant lighting. The play ratchets up into a dizzying disavowal of everything we thought to be true, either dismantling or reinforcing any beliefs we may have invariably held about both characters – the open-ended resolution is open to interpretation.
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Job is an ambitious play brimming with a multitude of ideas. There’s consternation towards the psychology profession that attributes poor mental health to the individual instead of a valid response to unprecedented violence. There’s critique of groupthink, online performative politics, the aesthetics of progressivism and the fear of cancellation. There’s the grasp for meaning and control, and the concomitant thirst to find it in the darkest recesses of the internet.
As commentary on the internet – Job is set in 2020 in the days before Twitter/X disintegrated into the neo-Nazi echo chamber it is today – the play is suitably written with the attention economy in mind. Rapid-fire dialogue bursts forth from both characters at every juncture. There’s barely any silence or room to breathe, but that’s almost entirely the point. The oversaturation of contradictory thoughts as Jane zigzags from idea to idea in the throes of a downward spiral mimics the constant churn and unrelenting context collapse of our feeds.
As a claustrophobic two-hander, the success of Job rests almost entirely on its two leads, and Jessica Clarke and Darren Gilshenan both rise to the challenge. Literally spitting out invectives with unmatched venom, coupled with striking moments of lucidity offset by the heady rush of mania, Clarke never loses steam. Gilshenan performs the more subtle character – a man precariously balancing feigned professionalism with overwhelming fear – with aplomb.
Starting as moral commentary before veering into the territory of a psychological thriller, Job kicks off at an astonishingly high pitch and never lets up. It’s an exceedingly tense, thrilling and trenchant work of art that propels us to examine our own behaviour as perennially online individuals in the 21st century, all the while casting its eye outwards towards the nefarious players both unmasked and protected by the internet.
Reviewed by Sonia Nair
MUSIC
LeAnn Rimes ★★★★
Margaret Court Arena, September 16
The spotlight illuminates LeAnn Rimes as she walks on stage barefoot; she’s graceful and ethereal, with her long hair and flowy dress.
LeAnn Rimes at Margaret Court Arena.Credit: Richard Clifford
The crowd cheers her entrance with excitement – clapping, howling, and whistling. “Hello beautiful people,” says Rimes, in her southern twang once she takes a seat at the piano. She starts performing solo – a pared back version of country rock song Remnants – signalling that this evening will feature a more intimate reinterpretation of her greatest hits.
The 43-year-old American singer-songwriter from Mississippi hasn’t toured Australia in 22 years, performing in Sydney and Brisbane before ending her run in Melbourne. Her stint as a judge on TV show The Voice Australia last year makes her return to the country feel timely. Selling more than 48 million records to date globally, the platinum artist achieved success at a young age, winning two Grammy Awards as a 14-year-old for her cover of Billy Mack’s 1958 tune, Blue. To this day, she remains the youngest performer to ever earn the Best New Artist accolade.
Hearing Rimes live, performing her repertoire of country and pop hits, transports you to a wholesome time in the late ’90s and early noughties when earnest ballads and tunes fuelled by youthful yearning often dominated the charts. She’s a great storyteller, sharing background on pivotal career highlights, including her mainstream success with the soundtrack for Coyote Ugly, a 2000 film about an aspiring singer who works in a show bar. “I was America’s sweetheart until they put me on a bar,” she jokes, referring to her dancing in the music video for Can’t Fight the Moonlight.
Rimes performed more intimate versions of her greatest hits.Credit: Richard Clifford
She also sings The Right Kind Of Wrong and I Do Love You from the soundtrack, mentioning how the film and music have garnered a cult following, engaging a new generation.
Early in her career, she was told to sing more “age-appropriate songs”, stating that as she’s aged, the lyrics have grown with her. She plays around with musical arrangements, which brings renewed depth and tone to her music. Can’t Fight the Moonlight is performed with an up-tempo country strum, bringing an energetic feel to Australia’s highest selling-single of 2001. Fast Car inspires her rendition of One-Way Ticket (Because I Can), weaving the chorus of Tracy Chapman’s hit into the ending.
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It’s clear Rimes loves performing. She dances along to upbeat tracks and maintains stillness in slower songs. It’s refreshing to hear a singer lean into their natural voice when performing live, rather than overly produce the sound for a stadium show. The band, including bass, electric and acoustic guitar, drums and keys, never overshadows Rimes’ vocals. She mentions that she’s starting to lose her voice – you couldn’t tell.
The crowd is timid throughout, not quite meeting Rimes’ energy, which brings the overall vibe of the night down a notch. She also sings a few too many covers (three in total), including a duet of Coldplay’s Fix You with support act and former Voice contestant from “Team LeAnn”, Reuben de Melo.
Overall, the show effectively reintroduces you to her catalogue of bangers, enticing you to rewatch Coyote Ugly and maybe even dance on a bar top.
Reviewed by Vyshnavee Wijekumar
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