Exit Through the Gift Shop



Banksy... Makes you think huh?

 It looks like I'm in grave danger of becoming a theatre geek. One of those pretentious prats who turn their noses up because they spent the last $10 of their weekly student loan on theatre tickets at BATS, instead of your solid investment in a bottle of Lindauer. Who spend their Friday nights ernestly discussing the feminist interpretation of some obscurely titled play while the rest of us engage in the ever-dignified pursuit of grinding, stumbling and drunkenly screaming our way down Courtenay Place.

Yes, it appears that somehow, unbeknowst to me, I have accidentally volunteered myself as a theatre reviewer for our student magazine, Salient. And I know NOTHING about theatre. But I'm finding this entire business rather enjoyable and thought-provoking. After watching August: Osage County last Friday I found myself mulling over its themes and intensely questioning some of my assumedly fundamental values. Which all sounds very pretentious and over-zealously philosophical if you ask me.

 But regardless of what this labels me, I must admit I love the use of arts as social commentary. Last night I watched Bansky's film, Exit Through the Gift Shop, which, to be honest, is nothing short of an absolute mind-fuck. It leaves you simultaneously confused, frustrated and intrigued. Which, I think, is entirely the point. It makes some fairly major stabs right at the heart of popular culture.... or does it?
Banksy, you f'ing genius.

I admire artists in any field who aren't afraid to express their opinion and challenge the status quo. I admire artists full-stop. Art has this wonderful and subtle ability to make us think. I know alot of people who consider modern art absolute bollocks. What pretentious twat spends several thousand dollars on a blank canvas with a line through it? Right? Or maybe, as Exit Through the Gift Shop so enigmatically suggests, there's a message in that too. Maybe art is a dynamic process which are reactions are very much a part of. When we scoff at a painting, stop to investigate an usual piece of graffitti on the street or dance to a catchy tune- perhaps that response is art too? In its broadest sense, I think art is something that makes you think. And surely no one can deny that there is always some value in that.


So here I am, exhibiting all the tell-tale symptoms of theatre geek syndrome. That was a long-winded spiel about art that, quite frankly no one gives a shit about (the spiel, not the art). Prognosis: critical. All the same, I rest assured in the fact that when I do go to plays, Salient arranges me free tickets, meaning I don't ever need to sacrifice that precious bottle of Lindauer.

Here are some of my favourite Banksy works, which he painted on the West Bank barrier in Israel

Magnificently Fucked-Up

There are plays, and then there are plays.August: Osage County, showing at Circa Theatre until May 7, is one of the latter. Having wowed audiences from London to Broadway, Tracy Letts’ Pulitzer Prize winning play has finally been given its eagerly anticipated Wellington incarnation.

Set in the oppressive heat of late Oklahoma summer, the play details the story of the Westons, an average family at its most extraordinarily dysfunctional. When the brooding, alcoholic patriarch Beverley (Ray Henwood) mysteriously disappears, the entire family converges under one equally stifling roof. As the details of Beverley’s disappearance unfold, a series of long-held secrets emerge from the woodwork. Thus the floodgates are opened for ensuing truth-torrent and the family’s disturbing realities are revealed through incredible acting and impeccably convincing ensemble work.

Jennifer Ludlam-spectacularly reprising the role that won her great critical acclaim in Auckland-plays Beverley’s wife, Violet. Rendered semi-coherent by her addiction to prescription drugs, the volatile matriarch is brutally truthful and hideously manipulative, yet possesses just enough vulnerability to make her human.
While Michelle Amas as the strong-willed eldest daughter, Barbara, and Victoria University’s own Lauren Gibson as the pot-smoking teenage grand-child were personal favourites, there is not a single weak role in the thirteen-strong cast. Particularly intriguing is the character of Johnna Monevata (Anya Tate-Manning) a Native American housekeeper who acts as an enigmatic observer and pillar of stability amongst the unfolding chaos.

What is most incredible about August: Osage County however, is that the work explores seemingly universal elements of family dynamics in the most sensationally fucked-up of situations. Letts’ script is simultaneously thought-provoking and hilarious and utterly unafraid of questioning some of our most purportedly fundamental values.

Whether you are a regular theatre-goer or not, you are doing yourself an injustice if you don’t see August: Osage County. Admittedly the play is three and a half hours long, including intervals. But don’t let that discourage you. By the first interval I was intrigued, by the second interval engrossed and at the end, during the standing ovation, simply wanted to see it all over again.