A Response: Ground Control & Angry Sexx | Rachel Perks at Next Wave & The Melbourne Fringe Festival

In order to escape the cycle of oppression that often seems inherent to society, feminist theory sometimes opts for post-humanism as a means of exploring its concepts. While there are a number of modern day examples—like insulin packs, IVF, birth control, glasses, smart phones, for example—of people using science to overcome human limitations, the true home of exploring people’s potential has always been science fiction. The allegorical, experimental, and often very entertaining nature of these stories enables audiences to see past the veneer of their lives and discuss topics of any nature. One case in point I’ve always enjoyed is American fans’ ability to talk about abortion in the context of Star Trek, when their own belief-systems stymied that debate in real life. The other is the inimitable Mad Max: Fury Road’s Imperator Furiosa, whose mechanical arm renders her beyond human.

The setback is that science fiction is often not considered “high art”. It’s labeled as somehow pedestrian, fanciful and commercial; or any combination thereof that belittles the content and the creator. Sometimes the last laugh is on the naysayers though, as, particularly in the books and television industry, these texts can do quite well financially — science fiction theatre texts are not as lucky. There’s already considerable stigma attached to genre theatre (and even comedy), as though if it’s not serious and seriously dealing with the serious issues then it’s not worthwhile. Musicals sometimes cop the brunt of that distaste but, again, they can do very well financially.

A Response: [Lady] Macbeth | Presented by Twelve Angry at Tuxedo Cat

It’s Shakespeare’s 400^th birthday, which seems like a good a time as any to take stock of his ongoing legacy. Spoiler: he’s still relevant. Good for him. Good for us too. It gives theatre companies a back catalogue of rights-free repertoire to remount and schools a seemingly endless number of texts to study — even if they tend to stick to a couple of tried and true favourites. So, to begin with, Happy Birthday Shakespeare, you’ve had a pretty big impact on our culture old mate—particularly in terms of language and narrative—and it doesn’t look like you’re going anywhere.

However, there are those who are suggesting that we take a break from the Bard — although, right or wrong, it must be noted that these two articles are written by playwrights with vested interests (full disclosure, I am similarly invested). The arguments are: let’s support local stories—which arguably have more resonance with contemporary audiences—and that a break would give those who love him the time to miss him. The latter point is somewhat erroneous; arguably, people will ‘miss’ him or not as much as they please, regardless of a hiatus. In regards to a ban, everyone naturally gets uppity when you try and censor art in general; no one wants an irl Cahoot’s Macbeth. And so while an outright ban is (obviously) and overstep, the suggestion opens the debate up to the relevance and prevalence of Shakespeare, which leads to a discussion about cultural imperialism, fitting nicely in with the first argument there, that we should support local stories. Without defending and actively supporting new work, the pall of international influence that Australians take from their colonisers will continue to lead to a problematic internalising of the commodities’ themes and messages — more on that later.

A Response: The Secret River | Arts Centre Melbourne presents A Sydney Theatre Company Production

The author lives. Despite protestation to the contrary, we must now reasonably conclude that the author still plays an integral role in both the context and the reception of a piece of art. It is with this declaration in mind that we turn to Sydney Theatre Company’s The Secret River.

First, however, we need to contextualise the issues. My first case study is this: last year Best American Poetry published a poem written by an Asian-American female, or so the editor was lead to believe. It turned out, however, that the author was a white male. This ignited a discussion about race and marginalisation that dramatically illustrated the continuing importance of authorship. While some would argue that the blind publication of the poem proves that authorship is irrelevant to the reception of a piece of work, this ignores why the piece was published in the first place, namely to include more people of colour in the annual, thereby reaffirming the importance of the author. Furthermore, those within the community, whose identity was misappropriated, argue an incident like this adds to their erasure from the socio-cultural fabric. An already privileged individual is exploiting a marginalised group for personal gain — therefore the artistic act is not a matter of ‘righting wrongs’ but of an individual colonising an identity for capitalist gain (as well as artistic notoriety, one presumes). This example typifies a wider response to contemporary practices concerning authorship. In particular it illustrates the way that marginalised groups and concerns are not treated as serious until a white man says exactly the same thing. Women often bare the brunt of this; during group situations a woman’s voice is often ignored or overlooked until a male raises her points.

Moreover, this case study elucidates the way that the Other is often reduced to their trauma; the idea that they cannot talk about their place in society unless it is about their suffering, which perpetuates the notion that to be Other is to suffer (how many ‘gay’ films have you seen that don’t involve HIV?) It is incredibly difficult for those seen as different to then talk on behalf of ‘the everyman’, as they can only be seen through the lens of their Otherness — even though those who can speak on behalf of ‘the every man’ (straight white men, by and large) actually do not represent the majority at all. The fact is, this case study is not an isolated issue and it typifies a broader philosophical discussion that gets to the heart of what is corrupt at the centre of modernity.

The Point of Pictures

The premise for this piece hardly seems worth mentioning, yet it is the necessary starting place for this discussion: we take a lot of pictures these days. We take them on phones and on cameras and on webcams and on any other gadget that you could possibly imagine to attach photo-taking technology onto. And all of these devices are pretty much always around. And so we snap, snap, snap. While there is plenty to be said about technology changing society, its efficacy and ubiquity – especially in developed countries but increasingly everywhere else as well – there is also something be asked: what is the point of pictures?

Two Modern Mothers

“This is the same street

As that one, you know,

That one that girl was on

When…”

One woman says to the other

Over a glass of Sav Blanc,

And tap water

No ice

It’s about control; It’s about consent

It’s about control; it’s about consent.

About which latest (social) media scandal am I talking? Well, without being too reductionist, you can pretty much take your pick. For these two ideas, control and consent, currently characterize most debates on contemporary issues.

These two notions are at the crux of cornerstone questions people must be asking themselves when engaging in topics as far flung as feminism, animal rights, cultural or economic divides and queer politics. The two questions that need to be asked are: is someone controlling someone else? And, has this person consented to being controlled?