Explosion Therapy
Frank Newman for Terrapin Puppet Theatre
By Finegan Kruckemeyer
Frank Newman has arrived in Hobart as the new AD of Terrapin Puppet Theatre. He chooses to begin, as many things do, with a Big Bang!
In a city beneath a mountain, on an island outpost of an island nation, an arts community is going through its cycles. Shows bump in and out. Exhibitions are hung, wine is drunk, exhibitions go down. Artists with dreams of the big smoke fly to Melbourne, pre-emptive Oscar speeches smuggled within their luggage. And, as flipside to the exodus, expats return, ready to settle or celebrate or lick their wounds.
And occasionally, someone new turns up. Then the piano player stops, mid-song. The swing-doors come to rest, and the locals turn on their stools. But here the Wild West analogy ends, because this is Tasmania. So there is no tense standoff. Instead people come and greet the stranger, with smiles and chats (and CVs in back pocket). Frank Newman has arrived in Hobart as the new AD of Terrapin Puppet Theatre. And he chooses to begin, as many things do, with
a big bang.
Explosion Therapy is the first work in Frank’s season, and it opens at the start of 2008. That makes for a short period of time in which to acclimatise to a new company – and city – and to create a suitably strong first work.
‘Altogether we’ve got six months, from finding the performers to opening night… a bit short, but you can’t be too greedy’, acknowledges Frank.
It’s actually a crazy introduction to the work I do, really taking Terrapin into the visual theatre world a lot more. There are definitely puppets in it, but it’s not a puppet heavy show. There’s also performance, clown, video animation, object theatre – the interesting part is in exploring the crossover between all those things.
Such a crossover of styles also serves as a journey through Frank’s artistic history. He spent 12 years as a performer drawing upon physical theatre and clown, and creating devised shows, ‘something I’ve maintained a passion for and belief in’. He had a dalliance with the establishment theatre world in Sydney, ‘which sent me screaming back to the fringy ends of things’, though he did benefit from time spent with Nick Enright, ‘such a wordsmith, a real craftsperson’. Frank spent two years in California, at the Dell’arte International School of Physical Theatre, as student, then performer and finally assistant director. Once again, the focus was on devised works, a recurring theme throughout our chat over lasagne (him) and cups of tea (me).
Most of what I’ve done has been very ground up – I’ll work with a writer, but rarely buy a script. I believe in theatre of place – you’ve got to somehow work with the community you’re in, in an interesting and innovative way.
A pleasing realisation while chatting with Frank, is his constant referencing of social and psychological theories which underpin his work. His does not seem to be a philosophy of art for art’s sake.
My entrance into theatre was actually political, as an environmental activist. I was over the way that the rituals I went to were marches and angry protests – all negative things. I thought: what kind of a model of the world are we presenting? So I started cultural events – if we marched, we’d march as a marching band.
We danced down the street,
did street theatre. We
were campaigning from
a creative angle.
And then one day I asked myself: If the world were a good place, if everything was fine and dandy, who would you be? Who would you be, without that agenda? And I decided I didn’t just have to be active [politically] – I could be in theatre. The two have always gone hand in hand.
I ask when puppetry came to the fore, and whether it provoked ideas in a different way?
I’ve been into it over the last seven years, because I realised puppets genuinely allowed me to get into the notion of other characters. Actors talk about dropping into a weird zone and emerging later from a time warp, but that’s bullshit. You’re still conscious, remembering lines, blocking. But puppetry is something which is very powerful. See, I believe puppetry is about life and death. The puppet by itself is an inanimate object. And then this thing is brought to life by the performer… but it’s a co-dependant relationship. There’s give and take. It’s not just the puppeteer that brings life. Without the puppet, the performer can’t get right into the character. So it’s the two together that make a show – there’s so much psychological meat in that.
It’s that type of thinking which has earned Frank a position at the helm of Terrapin, a company highly regarded both for its puppetry calibre, and as a Tasmanian cultural institution (even Our Mary has nice things to say about it). He has arrived with three years of works packed alongside the thermals, and a strong vision of what the company needs.
What the board liked, was not only were the shows innovative and unconventional in their approach to puppetry, but Terrapin recognised that it really needed to consolidate a group of artists with the company – artists who are well-trained, loyal and fed, otherwise the company is nothing. And all the programs fed into that.
In terms of innovative practise
and work, can Explosion Therapy hold its own?
It’s going to be hilarious, because the performers are all really funny. It’s sort of like a running series of choreographic gags mixed in with film stuff, which means you’ll be seeing really amazing stuff: exploding people, flying people, people getting turned into puppets.
The premise focuses on three actors working around a 4x4m screen (‘the fourth character’). Through intricate use of timing and illusion, they will be able to walk behind it, then continue to exist as animations on the screen, whereafter the aforementioned exploding, flying and puppet-mutating can occur.
Once they’re on the screen, the animator can do anything. The screen is cruel to be kind. It sees their inner foibles and messes with their heads. It’s a highly visual show which will be really funny, but poignant too. Within the craziness, there are moments of real beauty, like when weak characters find strength. For example, there’s a manipulated woman who ends up controlling her own puppet: herself. It will be really beautiful… placing people’s vulnerability out there for people to look at, and then to empathise with.
The onus on a devised process takes precedence once again. While Frank has posed questions and suggestions, this acts: ‘as a framework for the artistic team to run riot – from experience, the final show is usually not too different to the original vision. The key elements usually transfer all the way through, but the details and pathway radically change’. And without a linear plot as starting point, Frank says it is the emotional responses that govern the action: ‘It’s clown logic – the internal is what drives things’.
The minutiae of highly-choreographed transitions between humans, puppets and digital image, coupled with the macro labours of fitting it all into one show, is a mammoth task.
That’s the great thing about having the support of a company with infrastructure – you can go to the edges of ideas, test them properly. There’s overarching themes in my work that I can start to look at – the crossover between a cartoon quality, and quite psychological content. Cartoons keep people laughing, but can be coupled with a mature exploration which adults will find resonance with. This type of work straddles generations, like Shrek does. An audience will feel safe enough to come along, but they know they’ll be challenged.
And now the lasagne is finished, and the tea is gone. And I am left anticipating a show which does indeed sound innovative, in its process, theme and creator. So is Frank happy with his choice?
This has to be the first show. Initially, I presented another show, then realised this one inspired me more. It’s more fun, and I’ve wanted to do it for a while. If it’s good, then everything will be alright. If it’s okay, then the community will allow me one more. If three
are crappy… then I’ll be
tarred and feathered.
For those wishing to get involved with the company, check out Terrapin’s Articulate program in this issue’s ‘What’s On’ section. ■❚
