Fancy a dose of hedonism with a Gatsby-like vibe? Step this way

4 hours ago 3

VARIETY
Blanc de Blanc Encore ★★★
Spiegel Haus Melbourne, from October 29

Melburnians craving variety entertainment should check out the new pop-up performance precinct at Spiegel Haus Melbourne, on Lonsdale Street in the CBD. It’s opened its doors in time for summer and features a rooftop bar with intimate venues, including an Edwardian-style Spiegeltent backing onto a laneway in Chinatown.

Taking up residence in a carnival atmosphere is Strut & Fret’s Blanc de Blanc Encore – a risqué blend of cabaret, circus, comedy and burlesque which, as its name suggests, pays Dionysian homage to the pleasures of the grape, in a slick showcase of variety performance guaranteed to make you feel like you’re drinking champagne, even if you’re stone-cold sober.

Compered by a comedy duo – Emile Mathieu and Felix Pouliot – in formal attire, the evening kicks off with a warm-up that’s also a bit of a balls-up. These two gents know how to milk a joke, and though the opener’s terrible puns might leave you testy (depending on your taste for below-the-belt humour), the suggestive physical clowning, rambunctious low comedy, and engaging party tricks should win you over as the show progresses.

Circus acts include a dizzying aerial hoop routine from Danielle Summers, a cartoonish display from Ukrainian contortionist Mykhailo Makarovoak that must be seen to be believed, and Felix Pouliot’s muscular, gravity-defying pole dance, which transforms into a climax positively effervescing with airborne pop and fizz.

Burlesque takes centre stage through titillating and tightly choreographed striptease, drag-adjacent gender play, and erotic dance with something for everyone.

Chanteuse Clara Fable sings brisk excerpts from the odd jazz standard as well as more obscure (and loucher) numbers. I thought her puerile masturbation gag, performed to Rhapsody in Blue, gratuitously insulting to Gershwin, but this is the kind of show where it’s probably best to leave your high-mindedness at the door.

Classy only on the surface, this is a hedonistic show that denies no guilty pleasure, drenching audiences in a decadent, high-society, Gatsby-like vibe.

True, the retro 1920s stylings can make some of the “naughtiness” look super mainstream a century on, but it remains an immersive entertainment from a company of international renown, and a fun way to open a new performance venue in the heart of a city known for tucking away its most vibrant treasures in alleyways and hidden corners.

Reviewed by Cameron Woodhead

Jazz musicians Joost Lijbaart and Wolfert Brederode.

JAZZ
Joost Lijbaart and Wolfert Brederode ★★★★
The JazzLab, November 5

Patience. That’s the word – and the quality – that came to mind as I listened to Joost Lijbaart and Wolfert Brederode perform, and pondered what made their music so beguiling.

The drummer and pianist (both from the Netherlands) have been playing together in various settings for over 20 years, and their musical connection is so finely honed that they can communicate with the barest of gestures. They last toured Australia in 2018 as part of a superb quartet led by saxophonist Yuri Honing, but it’s perhaps in duo mode that their creative antennae are most vividly displayed.

Joost Lijbaart and Wolfert Brederode are both from the Netherlands.

At JazzLab on Wednesday, each of their two sets unfolded as a continuous, quietly compelling exchange of ideas and energy. Brederode and Lijbaart are musical storytellers, but their stories are mostly improvised, with the narrative arc shaped moment by moment and the conclusion unknown until it arrives.

Hence the patience. Rather than fabricating drama or climactic sequences to keep the audience engaged, these musicians simply created space and waited for fresh themes, directions and detours to reveal themselves.

At the piano, Brederode shaped wisps of shadowy abstraction into the contours of a melody before letting it dissolve, or coaxed harmonic motifs into a lush, flowing river before it, too, melted away. Beauty was everywhere, tinged with melancholy and longing, as though Brederode were grasping at something – a memory, an experience, a feeling – just out of reach.

In this setting, Lijbaart’s drums and percussion were rarely used for time-keeping. Instead, they produced colours and textures that enhanced or subtly contrasted with Brederode’s atmospheric explorations.

Yes, Lijbaart could summon a propulsive sway or polyrhythmic shuffle to nudge the music towards a groove. But more often he evoked a sense of mystery or ritual with the resonant chime of a temple bell, the rustle of a beaded shaker or the bird-like call of a wooden flute.

The duo’s close listening and attention to detail invited us to lean in and listen closely too, conjuring a spell of enchantment from which we were reluctant to emerge.

Reviewed by Jessica Nicholas

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