Rage & Riverfire: An Audio-Visual Presentation

There are many ways one can enjoy Riverfire, Brisbane's premier "blow up the sky" event. One could mix it with the half a million others crowded around Southbank, the Kangaroo Point cliffs, and other vantage spots. One could drive up to Mt Coot-tha, or if friends or finances permit, head to a luxury city high-rise to watch the fireworks spectacular.

But for me, nothing beats sitting in your Toyota Corolla for just under two hours, and getting a neck cramp from leaning out the window to get a glimpse of a few catherine wheels and roman candles.

Yeah, I got stuck in Riverfire traffic. But guess what? Thanks to the wonders of my new Samsung F400, you get to share that experience with me.

After missing my window of opportunity to cross the Story Bridge before it was closed off, I was re-routed onto Ipswich Road, heading south.

I got stuck at the intersection with Vulture Street for about 20 minutes. Most of my time was spent getting angry at the driver of the car behind me (thanks for beeping, dude, but you know, couldn't really go anywhere because of those red lights and stuff).

The situation wasn't helped by to Triple M's pre-show radio coverage, particularly when they peeled out 'Imagine' by John Lennon - because it's, like, you know, inspirational. I mean, I know I'm probably Robinson Crusoe here, but there's something about that song that just gives me the right royal irates. Probably because it gets wheeled out anytime somebody wants to feel righteous about something.

By this time I'd been in traffic for a good 45 minutes, and was moving about as fast as a narcoleptic snail on Valium. But as the John Lennon song mercifully trailed off, to be replaced by the sound of an RAAF pilot "radio-ing" in his flight path, I knew my mood would soon be lifted in the best possible way - by 15,000 litres of burning jet fuel.

If I've learned nothing else in this life, it's that one can't possibly feel anything else but a sense of excitement and chest-pounding, testosterone-soaked pride at seeing an F1-11 switch on the afterburners, then let fly with the petrol cap. Ohh, yeah.

I was looking south as the jet came in low towards the city, its green wing lights glinting quietly before the flame came on, and the roar of the engines caught up.

"Woooo-hoooo!" I yelled out the open car window, slamming my palm against the door. It's moments like these I come over all Robert Duvall from Apocalypse Now, and wish it would just go the whole hog and drop some bombs. 'Cause blowing stuff up is cool.

I proceeded to watch what I could of the pink, green and blue sparklies as the cracked and sprinkled themselves over the river. Of course, I was actually driving, so I did the responsible thing - and switched on the camcorder on my mobile (er- language warning here).



It's true - I was actually trying to get to a hen's night in New Farm. The fact that I'm at home blogging this should give you some indication of how successful I was in this mission. I'm sorry Bec - I owe you a drink.

Eventually I turned onto Stanley Street at Woolloongabba and wound up with a great view towards the river, where I knew a second F1-11 would soon be heading, fuel tank ready to explode for the climactic conclusion. I grabbed my phone, clicked on camera, but - OH NO!

Low battery.

I had the perfect position for a crappy mobile video of the dump and burn, but 25 minutes of random self-photography had used up all the power. It'd only been on one bar anyway. Still, it meant I got to fully absorb the heat from the jet's fiery tail, singing at the top of my voice along with the soundtrack (Foo Fighters 'Pretender') as it shot overhead and into the night.

Dump and burns are So. Awesome.

With the whole thing over, it took me another 15 minutes to drive home, tired and sore from tension and excessive neck craning. But I did see the new Brisbane Wheel (not sure if it's been officially named yet, but I'm pushing "The Spin", in honour of our politicians) all lit up properly for the first time, and gosh-darn but it looks pretty. It will be a lovely addition to our city, methinks.

So that was my Riverfire 2008. How was yours?

Making the paper

Received a text message this morning (thanks, Michael!), congratulating me on my appearance in today's Courier-Mail.

Gah?

But it turns out to be true - somebody's dobbed me in:

If you have a copy of the Courier-Mail handy, it's on page 75.

Firstly, I must post another link to Aurelie Beeston, who took the photograph featured in the article, and here on the blog. She's a marvellous photographer, and I'm lucky enough to have had her take snaps of me before she starts charging what she's undoubtedly worth.

Secondly, the article says I blog about "all manner of embarrassing mishaps", and I realise I haven't written about anything too humiliating for a while. So consider me on the case!

And finally, if you're here reading this because of the Courier-Mail article - welcome, and thank you! Make sure you drop me a comment.

Why Kate shouldn't get a job

This is Kate Middleton, rumoured intended betrothed of one William Windsor, heir to the British throne.

Kate's famous for... errr...well, basically for being William's on-again, off-again girlfriend, which is reason enough for her to be followed by a drooling pack of paparazzi everywhere she goes. The women's mags have been in a state of barely concealed orgasmic excitement at the prospect of the first royal wedding involving royals we actually know about since Prince Edward married his PR chick Sophie Rhys-Jones (And really, that was kinda boring. Sophie was a savvy 30-something businesswoman who knew how to keep even a royal wedding simple and low-key; and Edward - well, he's not what you instantly picture when you hear "Prince Charming", is he?).

But not everyone's overjoyed by the publicity. Faced with endless shots of Kate wandering down high streets wearing oversized sunglasses, or leaving trendy London nightspots, Queen Elizabeth II has reportedly taken a leaf out of Paul Keating's book. No, she hasn't lovingly fondled Kate's back - she's told her to get a job.

It's believed that before any engagement is made official, Her Maj thinks Kate should hook up with a charity, and be seen to be hard-working and proactive. According to the article, aides want the 26-year-old to
"work with a children's or animal charity to help counter perceptions she only wants to party and shop until William pops the question".

Now I know what you're thinking. "Geez, Nat, way to go - another boring bland feminist rant about dumbed down female role models who are teaching young girls that it's OK to consider marrying a footballer or a royal the pinnacle of achievement in one's life".

Au contraire, my friends.

I for one am in complete support of Kate Middleton, and quite frankly welcome her attempts to restore some god-damn showiness and foolhardiness to the British monarchy.

Something happened during the 20th century - no doubt due in part to those interminable World Wars and dreary post-war rebuilding and Thatcherite years. The Royal Family lost its sense of outrageous superiority, and became all about understanding, and awareness, and sympathy with the common man. Sure, all the money kept rolling in, but the Kings and Queens of the 20th century went out and met their subjects like never before. They figured since nobody else was wearing new clothes or driving fancy cars, they'd better scale down their public display of wealth, so as not to anger the great unwashed.

The 80s and 90s even brought about the do-gooder Royal: Princess Di's AIDS and anti-landmine work, Fergie doing ads for WeightWatchers (hey, obesity's a problem) - Prince Charles even has organic farms and carbon offsets, for f***'s sake. I mean, what kind of Prince talks to plants?

Now in comes Kate Middleton. She and William went to university together, and she's since worked as an "accessories buyer" for a fashion chain, and then as a photographer of sorts. Now they're not real jobs. You just know she'd turn up once or twice a week, pick out some pretty bracelets or polish a lens, then head back out to Knightsbridge for some more shopping and short macciatos.

Royals of the past never worried about looking socially conscious. Nobody liked George IV, but that didn't stop him spending thousands on gold-plated lounge suites and beach palaces at Brighton. He just didn't give a crap.

Kate is bringing "Royal" back. She's saying "f*** it, I'm gonna be a Princess. I don't have to do shit". She's single-handedly bringing over-the-top excess back into the stuffy halls of Buck Palace and Clarence House. She's going to shop, wear pretty clothes, go to the gym, be seen at premieres and nightclubs, turn up to wave William off on his latest Navy tour or Army awards ceremony - and stuff you if you can't deal with it. You're just jealous, fool.

Now all this may have upset me if I personally fancied Prince William. But I realised many years ago that I'm firmly in the Prince Harry camp now. A royal who thinks "Hitler costume? Marijuana? Boozy nights with buddies? Shooting up the Taliban? Bring it on!" - now that's a royal I can respect.

Cool Cameos

I caught a preview screening of Tropic Thunder, the new Ben Stiller epic-comedy-war-movie-about-a-war movie this evening.

It's not genius, but there's some marvellous bits in it, including some pinpoint accurate Hollywood in-jokes, and great performances, including sheer brilliance from Robert Downey Jr as an Australian method actor cast as an African-American army captain. By crikey that man is charismatic, even with the potentially crowd-displeasing blackface. I'm so glad he got off the gear.

But the absolute highlight of the film is a stellar "cameo" from Tom Cruise. I don't think I'm giving too much away by naming Cruise - it's fairly widespread knowledge on the internet that he's in it, and I won't tell you exactly what he gets up to. Hell, my brother happened to be in the same cinema (I had no idea until he texted me afterwards to say "Go see Tropic Thunder!") and he didn't even pick up it was Captain Scientology until the end. So maybe you won't even pick it. Save to say that having read descriptions of his performance as a "career-saver", I completely understand and agree. He's just fantastic. There's a musical moment in the film... ah, just go and see it.

It's made me think about other famous "cameo" appearances. There's something either extraordinarily exciting or mind-numbingly cheesy about a cameo. Alfred Hitchcock popularised the director's cameo - but you wouldn't hang out in an M. Night Shamaylan film waiting for M. Night to turn up looking creepy. Of course, chances are after The Happening, you wouldn't be hanging out in a M. Night Shamaylan film ever again.

My favourite cameo is probably Sean Connery as Richard the Lionheart in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. Everything you want in a cameo - he turns up at the happy ending looking awesome in armour, cracks a gag, then kicks off the celebrations. Nice. Mel Brooks even ripped it off for Robin Hood: Men In Tights, getting Patrick Stewart to do the same thing (except with more gags).

Superhero movies are full of cameos. Samuel L. Jackson's eyepatch-clad appearance at the end of Iron Man rocked, as did Iron Man himself (the aforementioned Robert Downey Jr) subsequently at the end of The Incredible Hulk. There's always a geeky cheer when Stan Lee turns up in Marvel films, but these days it's more of a "Gee, what's Stan up to this time?" vibe. A cameo's not quite as exciting when you know it's coming at some stage.

Sometimes a cameo doesn't even need to be the actual actor. Remember the end of Batman Begins, when Gordon told Batman of a new criminal on the scene who just leaves Joker playing cards everywhere? The Dark Knight's raspy "I'll look into it" certainly gave the geeks of my acquaintance their very own Bat Pole. Their Spidey-senses tingled at the confirmation that the Clown Prince of Crime would indeed be the cinematic Batman's next adversary (while Alfred, of course, would continue to be Batman's batman), even though Heath Ledger had yet to be cast.

Cameos are hugely common in TV shows - particularly sitcoms. Virtually everyone popped up at some stage on Friends, and turning up on The Simpsons as either themselves or a character seems to be a rite of passing for celebrities of all sorts.

So what other film or TV cameos have you cheered or groaned at?

Golden Girls

Now I don't want to take anything away from Queensland's own dual Olympic gold medal winner Stephanie Rice. The girl's quite the astonishing athlete, and deserves every success after her stellar turn in the pool in Beijing.

But jeez, you can imagine the good folk down at Uncle Toby's, or Kellogg's, or Pura Milk (or whatever company waiting in the wings to snag swimmers to slather over its museli bars or choco-milk drinks) are thanking their lucky stars that she's pretty as well.

All of our female cardboard cut-outs plucked from the pool have been lookers - think fresh-faced Susie O'Neill, or dark beauty Gian Rooney. Of the current crop, Libby Trickett and Liesel Jones will have some luck as well - probably because they're blonde with nice smiles.

All I'm saying is, despite her own extraordinary talent, we don't see a lot of Jessica Schipper on our cereal boxes, do we?

Perhaps I'm just too cynical...

A Final taste of the Fringe

I have returned to home shores; but would like to throw up a few photos from Edinburgh before I launch back into my usual bollocks:

My truly awesome flatmates: impro guru and comedian Deborah Frances White, actor Phillip York and magician and "conman" Phillip Escoffey. These guys absolutely made my festival. Phillip York made me eat a bowl of spaghetti bolognese my first night after I came home tired and hungry after midnight, and told me tales of the theatre and TV; Phillip Escoffey cracked gags and taught me two magic tricks (which I'm practising); and Deborah - well, Deborah is always such an inspiration to be around. After a week spent with her, watching and discussing her show, talking about performance and comedy - I just want to write my own one-woman show and get up onstage.

This is Deb in full flight during How to Get Almost Anyone to Want to Sleep With You - The Advanced Class. I took loads of pictures during one show but this is my favourite; I think it demonstrates her revulsion at the romance tips offered in the books pictured onscreen perfectly.

I was fortunate to play in two Impro Jam shows and one Improvaganza show at the Fringe. These two - Simon and Rachel - were in all three shows with me. They were both absolutely lovely, and I'm just sad that the format of the shows meant I didn't get a huge amount of stage time with them. The Impro Jam shows revolved around getting audience members up onstage and making them the star of scenes; while the Improvaganza was an elimination format.

To be honest, I was somewhat disappointed with the Improvaganza, which I'd really been looking forward to. The Impro Jams were fun, and I got to play some good characters, but I really wanted more interaction with other improvisers; to see how they played scenes, and hopefully to learn. Unfortunately I got chucked out after two rounds of the Improvaganza. I was a little bitter about it because in my first scene (a 'Subtitles') I'd played a Mexican woman (managed to get some nicely-stereotyped gibberish jokes in about burritos and tacos), and in the second (a 'Holiday Photos') I was basically just miming (although I got in a good nipple tassle gag - you see, my breasts always feature somewhere!). So I'd been eliminated without getting a chance to speak English or display any of my witty banter.

I tried not to be too bitter, as that's the way it goes with an elimination format - whether you're all the way from Australia or not. But after I took my seat in the audience and watched the rest of the show, I began to feel somewhat grateful for going early. Improvaganza was a midnight show, so I'd expected some swearing and raunchiness (Indeed, when I'd introduced myself, I described the appalling weather as "summer f***ing bollocks"). Swearing and naughtiness can be fun in impro - but only when used sparingly. I found some of the scenes descended into fairly harsh territory. During a 'Singing Bartender' scene, the guy playing the bartender told one man to solve his problem (which I can't remember) to "go to the Doc's and get your cock out" and responded to the woman's problem (that she was pregnant with his child) that she belonged "down the docks" and he might "rip her f***ing tits off".

It gets better (Or actually, worse).

The same guy was also involved in a first date scene, which began with him dragging his date into his living room, slapping her to wake up from the Rohypnol and asking "are we going to f*** now, or what?", and ended with him confessing that he'd "f***ed an elephant up the arse".

I was also somewhat intrigued by the role of the directors in this particular competition; they didn't horn or punish "bad" behaviour (fair enough I suppose because it was a late night show), and they let some scenes go on and on, when my natural instinct would be to end them. A 'Stunt Doubles' scene went for a good eight or nine minutes, only kept interesting by the great physical skills of the two guys playing the stunt doubles. No players ended scenes either - rather they just kept going even when again my instinct would have been to yell "...and time!"

To be fair, the final three - which included Misogynist Guy and Simon (the guy pictured above; he was a great player who did what was best for the scene) - did a 'Sing Off' which was really quite good. The final winner was the third guy, who was a member of the same troupe as Misogynist Guy, and won the right to plug their Fringe show. When he said their troupe name was "The Scat Pack" I thought if I'd had found that out BEFORE the show, I would have been more prepared for what was to come!

Don't get me wrong ; I'm very grateful I was offered the opportunity to play. It was an intriguing experience; but it made me glad I'd been in the "Impro Jams", as I would have been more disappointed had it been my only go at improv during my time at the festival. And it made me realise "Hey - Impro Mafia can do this!" Now I'm uber-keen to get a few of us together and head over there. Perhaps we can get a grant; or raise some money through a sponsor. But it's so possible for us - performing well in the Edinburgh Fringe IS an attainable ideal!

Edinburgh Videos

This video should give you some idea of what it's like to walk the Royal Mile (High Street) in Edinburgh during the Fringe:



Next up are five members of the Newbury Youth Theatre group, promoting their particularly brand of rebel-hip-uber-cool, as well as their show "The Wind Tamer", on at the Fringe. Now before you launch into your Mary Kay LeTourneau jokes, it was all above board (and most of them were 16 anyway). I met these guys while flyering for Phillip Escoffey's show "Six Impossible Things Before Dinner" on Sunday, and subsequently saw them again on Monday when they came back to see it. They've provided me with some of the biggest laughs I've had so far.



All-righty. It's raining quite heavily here today, and I need to run off to flyer. I'm probably going to see Deborah Frances White's show again today (because she's changed stuff), and then drop by the "Impro Jam" to see if they need players. Other than that, the day's a mystery!

Onstage in Edinburgh!

Sadly my dodgy net connection collapses when I try to upload videos to YouTube, so this is just a brief post to say “Today I saw FIVE shows and performed in one!”

The show I performed in was “The Impro Jam”, which I’d been along to see on Monday (basically via accident; I happened to turn up at the venue just before it was about to start), and afterwards somewhat bullied my way into a spot.

The show is really not about improvisers jamming with other improvisers; rather, it sees willing audience members brought up onstage for a few minutes of the glory. Basically my job was to ensure they looked good! My favourite scene was where I played a lascivious bingo caller who was meeting a fireman for a date. It allowed me to use all sorts of great innuendo like “do you like to get both hands on the hose?” and “Hosting bingo has given me a lot of experience with balls”, which terrified the young man involved, but seemed to tickle the audience’s funnybone. Hooray! I’m turning up again on Wednesday to see if they need players again.

Earlier in the day I’d seen “The Wind Tamer”, by the Newbury Youth Theatre (I’ll explain why via video soon) – a kids show that was two parts Harry Potter to one part His Dark Materials. Very sweet, and well staged.

Then this evening Deborah Frances White and I tied our hands behind our backs and tucked in to the comedy trough on offer at the Pleasance Courtyard.

First,Justin Moorhouse (Manx with a desire to find his true friends amidst the Facebook mire). Then, Nina Conti (daughter of Tom, ventriloquist, so clever, so original, and I can’t believe the monkey wasn’t f***ing real). Then, Australian musical comedian and beat poet Tim Minchin (Just. Freaking. Awesome.) Finally, we caught the 11:15pm show featuring stand-up Reginald D. Hunter. (Some things to think about; a bit of Batman-hate; a lot of Josef Fritzl jokes).

It’s been a massive day, which is quite a triumph when you consider the hot water broke again at the flat this morning and I had to have another cold shower (three days in a row; and the summer ain’t that hot here, people). Tomorrow is shaping up to be busy again. Hopefully I will get a chance to find some proper wi-fi!

Edinburgh is Brilliant!

Normally I try for a witty blog title, but I've just discovered I've bloody left my power converter in Glasgow, and my laptop battery will run out of power in about 10 minutes. So I will have to describe my first day-and-a-half at the Edinburgh Fringe briefly....

It's just amazing. So many people, so many shows... I'm just going by the brochure containing acts on at the "big four" venues (Pleasance, Gilded Balloon, Underbelly and Assembly Rooms), but there's so much more out there. The vibe is pumping, the beer is flowing, the comedy is flowing (again, heaps of "proper" theatre too, but I can't even get my head around that yet!)

I'm staying in a marvellous flat just near The Meadows with the stunning and brilliant improviser/stand-up Deborah Frances White, the just mind-bogglingly clever mind-reader and all-round witch Phillip Escoffey, and the regal Phillip York, who's a proper actor and with the most commanding voice since the Duke of Wellington. I've seen both Deborah and Phillip Escoffey's shows, and hope to see Phillip York's (a one-man show about dodgy publishing guru Robert Maxwell) later this week.

Apart from discovering there was no hot water in the flat this morning when I tried to shower, and the fact that it bizarrely has no communal living area (just a hallway), it really is wonderful. Deborah and the Phillips are so erudite and funny - it's like being on school camp only I actually want to be here.

In return for this accommodation, I'm working at the fringe handing out flyers for their shows. Now let me tell you, flyering is hard work. I've been advised to engage with people - not just shove the flyer into their hands and say "Great show, on here, this much". I was up on the Royal Mile today, and no kidding, every second person was a "flyerer", and it was hard to find the actual punters! Then many would say "no thanks", and I felt like I barely made a dent in my big stack of flyers.

However, flyering around the venues (in my case, the Pleasance Courtyard and Pleasance Dome) is a lot better, as people are generally there to see shows, and they're more responsive to suggestions. The best part was Saturday night, when I was handing out flyers for a late night multi-act/new material show called "Old Rope" - I ended up just chatting to heaps of people. It was really fun - telling them about the show, but then just asking them about Edinburgh and their festival experiences, and why I was over from Australia, etc etc.

It's just a blast so far. This evening I also saw Mark Watson, who was very good, so fast and so energetic. I'm hoping to get to a lot more over the coming days - I'll keep you posted!

Doctor Who Exhibition

Good, old-fashioned, geeky fun.