Showing posts with label New Theatre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Theatre. Show all posts

Saturday, 9 June 2012

Goodnight from Crushed

Last show! 
Come and say goodbye to Kelly, Jase and Dazza and all those fine folk at Beauty Bay.
Put on your favourite 80s band tee, swig away on a Tooheys and get your tickets quick. 
SEE YOU AT THE NEW FOR LAST DRINKS!

Bookings http://www.newtheatre.org.au/ or buy at the door.
New Theatre, 542 King Street, Newtown

One final tune from Dazza, Jason, Kelly...and Susie...




Monday, 4 June 2012

5 nights to go

That's right, we're on the final countdown!  There are only FIVE shows left for Crushed.  Put on your favourite 80s band tee, swill away on a Tooheys and get your tickets quick.  And remember, tomorrow night is Pay What You Can Tuesday where you can pick up a super cheap ticket for only $10.
SEE YOU AT THE NEW!

Bookings http://www.newtheatre.org.au/ or buy at the door.
New Theatre, 542 King Street, Newtown

Let's leave the final countdown to those rockers from 1986...

Monday, 21 May 2012

Out of the comfortable numb


The Crushed team have asked a few of our close friends to guest blog a response to our play (which is playing now!) Third to pick up a pen, is Bollywood actor, singer, songwriter, and screenwriter Nicholas Brown. Like our female lead Kelly, Nicholas left Australia many years ago. We asked him to muse on what’s it’s like being an Aussie expat and to riff on the notion of homecoming…

‘Leaving Australia was one of the toughest decisions I’ve ever made. It’s the build up that’s the hardest. The anxiety, the fear of the unknown, losing all your personal and business connections and having to start over. You feel like you’ve spent years getting to a certain point just to throw it all away.

Once I got on the plane though, it all seemed like a distant memory. In my new surroundings, all I could do was live in the present.

Most people leave because they’re fed up with things being safe, they’re frustrated with their careers and need some sense of risk to catapult them out of the comfortable numb. That was certainly the case for me. Leaving Australia helped me find my inner electric boogaloo. Although, these days I need to return home to find it!

I left Sydney in 2007 for Mumbai to pursue an acting career in Bollywood. I had no idea what I was getting myself into or how I would cope. I wasn’t sure when I would return, but when I did, I would’ve damn hell have got my ‘Bolly’ on!

Being an ex-pat was a lot of fun. I was ‘exotified’ for being Aussie, which was refreshing, because back home being exotic was a hindrance. I think that’s starting to change…

I remember my first trip home after my initial Indian  adventure. I’d become used to being constantly visually, emotionally and spiritually stimulated. India is such a fascinating country. Mumbai is constantly evolving. Bollywood is booming and constant change is part of its psyche. One of the basic tenets of the Hindu philosophy is that you need to destroy to create and because of this, Mumbai is progressing at the speed of light! And so, I had changed. I had grown. I had become accustomed to chaos and risk and I wanted to bring some of that back home to my friends and family.

Of course, when I returned, the only thing that had changed were a few restaurants on King St in Newtown.

There’s something about the Australian sense of humour, it’s so dry, that it often glosses over what’s at its core – racism and jealousy. “Getting too big for ya’ boots are ya?” The tall poppy syndrome is definitely something you become more aware of when you return to Australia.

When I come home now, I internalise, because sharing my stories and adventures often results in being labeled boastful.

I love Australia and am proud of being Australian, but I think we can be so much more. If we don’t really look at ourselves, how can we move forward?

Despite two new prime ministers and the ridiculous cost of living, not much has changed since I left. The nostalgic part of me is pleased by this, but the revolutionary within wishes that we were more ephemeral.

India is steeped in religion, tradition and mythology, but still manages to evolve. India evolves by embracing its history. I believe the only way Australia can become an open-minded, free country is to look to our indigenous past for guidance.

Maybe we could get rid of the Union Jack from our flag and replace it with the Aboriginal flag?! And can we make Yothu Yindi's 'Treaty' our National Anthem?’

 Like what you're reading? You can learn more about Nicholas’s projects past, present and future here:

Like what you're hearing? Then book your tickets to Crushed! 

Check out Nicholas getting his Bollywood On here:

Thursday, 10 May 2012

High School Reunions...from Hell

Missing your school chums?  Fondly reminiscing about when you were 16?
Send them this page and organise a reunion at the theatre courtesy of Crushed...

Tuesday, 8 May 2012

(BITTER) SWEET SIXTEEN (or Nirvana in the Bananas)

The Crushed team have asked a few of our close friends to guest blog a response to our upcoming play. First up is Independent Theatre's Superstar: writer, director, producer and all-round-creativity-facilitator Augusta Supple. We asked her to respond to Crushed's tag line: BITTER SWEET SIXTEEN...
'There wasn’t much that was sweet when I was sixteen.

Living in a small coastal town in the banana belt of NSW, there was little that linked me to the outside world. TV was limited to 4 channels, (I was secretly obsessed with Paul Reiser from Mad About You), and I was glued to Helen Razer's voice and song choice on Triple J like a grommet clings to his surf board. While my face was buried in suspiciously pristine ancient history text-books with the vain hope that education would set me free from the shit hole I was trapped in. 

It was the 90s. 

The dawn of the information age. The Gulf War. The Chechen War. The Bosnian War. Kosovo. Australia was having a recession it had to have. Bill Clinton played the sax and his sperm was found on a dress owned by a woman he did NOT have sexual relations with. Kurt Cobain had moaned his way through gritted teeth and a floppy fringe, then blew a hole in his head.

Sixteen for many was not so sweet. It was the age of pregnancy, the school certificate, apprenticeships and expulsion. Sixteen was my year of joining a punk band, writing abusive songs, the obligatory occasional social binge drinking, studying Hamlet, unrequited love affairs with boys who listened to Tool and Pink Floyd, memorizing slabs of T.S Eliot - all while topping my class and dreaming of my emancipated adult life.

I dreamed of a bright future where I didn’t have to ever, EVER confront the boring, dull, flat unprofitable world I was forced to grow up in.


I feared the future school reunion hoping I could forever avoid it… and earnestly hoped by the time it rolled around that I had made something of my life. Something. Anything better than the here and now.

At my local high school, kids wearing an improvised uniform sucked smoke from juice bottles and grinned through red eyes at their future. Flannelette shirts flapped as teens set fire to bins. Grunge was born. I dressed in my grandfather’s clothes and listened patiently as boys my age fumbled around with Metallica riffs on nylon string guitars. River Phoenix died and girls at my school attempted suicide. We were lectured on AIDS ad nauseum and spent long afternoons rolling condoms onto bananas, whilst the cooler kids were practicing the real thing in the scrubland that surrounded my school.

It all felt pointless really.

Skinny girls with no opinions got the boys, then had scrag fights on the school bus. Their earrings ripped out of ears. Blood. Torn singlet tops. Swearing. The boys would look on with dull eyes and not dare intervene. I sat quietly and wrote letters to people I had met who went to 'other' schools.

Inevitably, someone’s cool parents let us have a party at their place. I’d sit planning my future escape and watch as others had fun: Passion pop and Jim Beam. Malibu and Coke. Bongs. Magic mushrooms. Teens gnawing sloppily at each other's faces, having a casual vomit, a micro-sleep, then continuing. At some stage a posse would form and we’d go on ‘missions’ stealing street signs or garden gnomes from unsuspecting homes. We ventured into the banana fields and sang Nirvana songs to keep each other awake. Lying on the ground on deserted country roads under the stars, we soaked up the warmth from the black bitumen and raged over arguments about reality and perception (teenage philosophy a plenty.) We knew it was all empty, all pointless – the universe too big, the world uncaring. Everything had been thought of before, everything had all been said before. We knew poverty could not and would not be ended by Bono or any other aging rock star who chose to wear rose-coloured sunglasses.

It wasn’t sweet. It was bitter.

Flash forward 16 years. 

At the start new millennium the school reunion is unavoidable. It’s not a phyisical thing – it’s the casual surprise of a Facebook 'friend' request… sometimes from someone who has changed their name and judging by their photo has either regressed thirty years or had a baby.

Although I’m a world away from a drunken pash in the banana fields, the sting of school remains: the pointlessness, the feeling of being trapped in a shit hole, the dreams I had, the pressure I felt, the boys I loved, the friends I had. I watch the film clips, sing along to Hole or Pearl Jam. Yet the memory is not bitter. Not at all. 

It’s sweet.'
One of Woolgoolga's popular tourist attractions.
Like what you're reading? You can follow Augusta's blog write here, write now: 
www.augustasupple.com
Like what you're hearing? Then book your tickets to Crushed! 
http://www.newtheatre.org.au/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=99&Itemid=129

Tuesday, 17 April 2012

Generation X is sick of your bullshit

'Generation X... It might still take some ecstasy, if it knew where to get some. But probably not. Generation X has to be up really early tomorrow morning.'
Awesome blog about our generation: 



Monday, 16 April 2012

Rehearsals Day 1

Day 1 of rehearsals as part of our Queen Street Studios Performing Arts Residency, and here's what our leading lady Lucy Miller has to say!




'Great rehearsal today! Hours of vibrant talk, chats, flirting, laughing, chilli chicken at the pub, questions, some answers, good answers, no answers, epiphanies, brain freezes, skull fucks, chewing gum, singing, 'Who's better Madonna or Cindy?' A few renditions of Nirvana, 'shut up ya big shut up', ciggies, Freudian slips, trapped souls, horns locking, childish recriminations followed by adult hindsight, star gazing, 'Jelly Kelly', Sweet Child of Mine...


GEN X ROCKS!  


Amen.'