The Golden Ass
Epic theatrical sagas are by their nature lengthy. To sustain audience interest (close to three hours in this instance with two intervals during which the faint-hearted can run away), authors of successful epic sagas tend to stuff them with plot and counter-plot, gripping narratives and fascinating characters.
English playwright Peter Oswald took another tack in his adaptation of the 2000-year-old potboiler by Lucius Apuleius. It was apparently written for the actors of London’s Globe Theatre, to run in rep with Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The idea was to show how Shakespeare referenced the classics. And of course, both plays feature a man who turns into an ass. Oswald might have considered referencing Shakespeare in turn by trimming superfluous characters and injecting the rest with life and plausibility.
This Ass starts promisingly, not least because the cast invest such energy and conviction into what the company’s notes describe as a “rollicking adventure of madness and mayhem.” These notes also go on to explain that “this production adopts an array of theatrical styles from physical theatre to puppetry. Beautifully poetic and just a little bit naughty, The Golden Ass is a hilarious sweeping fable of stories within stories.” On the other hand, it could also be described as “all over the place like a mad woman’s poop.”
Unless you have a particular fondness for puppetry - the ones worn and manipulated by a human performer - you could safely sit out the entire second act in the bar and not miss a beat. Then again, if you’re into puppetry - and this sequence is beautifully executed - you could try slipping in for the middle bit and skip the “rollicking” acts on either side.
Michael Cullen infuses the Ass-man Lucius with authentic charm and innocence, Helen O’Leary sparkles across a variety of roles and is an accomplished comic presence; the rest of the cast works valiantly through the 70-odd roles necessary to tell the story of the young man whose curiosity and longing for love get him into trouble of a kind he couldn’t have anticipated. Unless, of course, he lived in mythical Greco-Roman times wherein magic and lots of jokes about donkey’s dongers are commonplace.
One of the funniest ideas of the production is that the donkey really does have a donger - a ding-donger - but even that’s pretty worn out by night’s end. There are some brilliant moments of comedy (O’Leary as a quick succession of adulterous wives is marvellous) but they’re few and far between in a tale which could be trimmed to 90 minutes with no ill effects.
Designer Katja Handt takes line honours in the creative stakes. She has devised ingenious ways to use and extend the Downstairs space, while the amusing costumes - integrated only by colour range in beige-bronze and ruddy tans - are excellent.
Flightpath Theatre also did the very successful The Young Tycoons at Darlinghurst and Some Voices at the Lock Up, so they’re no slouches. On this occasion they’re let down by a play which doesn’t deserve this much attention or effort; but might be mightily improved by excising most of the blather and leaving in the funny and naughty bits.
The Golden Ass, in association with B Sharp, Belvoir St Downstairs to December 23; ph: 9699 3444 or www.belvoir.com.au
