Review – Xanadu
The musical Xanadu comes with its share of baggage. For many readers, when they hear the word Xanadu, they associate it with the mammoth stinker of a film starring Olivia Newton-John. The plot, which can be briefly summarized as “Greek Goddess descends to Venice Beach to inspire chalk artist to open Roller Disco”, is so ludicrous that it screams flop. If such a show were approached with a modicum of seriousness, it would fail spectacularly. Thankfully, director David Gauci and his team of talented local performers present the show for what it is; a tongue in cheek, glittery parody of the original film and the decade of the 80s. By the end of the show, my feelings of apprehension were replaced by utter enjoyment.
Xanadu was a vehicle for Australian starlet Olivia Newton-John, and her broad Australian accent is incorporated into the show for comedic effect. In Gauci’s production, the role of Greek Muse Clio is brought to life by Kate Dempsey. Dempsey glows on stage, capturing every scene she is in. In contrast to the original Broadway version Dempsey’s Aussie accent, whilst exaggerated, is not offensively grating. And as she glides across the stage she not only enchants the mortals on stage, but also the audience.
The earth bound object of Clio’s affections is Sonny Malone, a Venice Beach himbo played by Lindsay Prodea. Prodea captures the dumb naïveté of the character perfectly, all the while rocking a pair of denim shorts that would make Matt Gilbertson’s Hans blush, and he displays great chemistry with Dempsey as lovers from different worlds.
The supporting cast is uniformly strong. Megan Humphries and Jenny Scarce Tolley ham it up as Clio’s evil sisters, obviously basing their wardrobe upon the Disney villainess. Brendan Cooney delivers a classy performance as Danny Maguire/Zeus, although he does appear to be a little young when contrasted with the dapper silver gentleman from the Broadway version. (The age of the character is important, as it serves to accentuate the generation gap between Maguire and Malone.) But Cooney should be commended for deftly dealing with an embarrassing wardrobe malfunction, although he probably didn’t need to bring as much attention to it as he did. We got the joke the first three times.
Every minor character has a moment to shine, be it a dance solo, joke or rollerskating backflip. Brody Thomas-Green, in particular, makes the most of every second on stage as the sour Goth Muse.
The synth splendour of the musical score is flawlessly recreated by musical director Emma Knights and her band. Choreographer Shenyade Wilkinson-Sarti has whipped the cast into shape, which is impressive given the diversity and novelty of the show’s requirements. And all cast members should be commended for their newly found roller skating skills. It seems a shame for them to go to waste. Starlight Express next year?
Gauci’s last Fringe production of Altar Boyz was cruelly marred by sub-par sound production, but this has been addressed this year. Dialogue, music and vocals were crisply delivered thanks to Martin and Tim from Alpro. The lighting by Mike Phillips and Paul Tossell contributed to the standard of the show, as did the sets, constructed by Gauci’s father Pat and Gavin Cianci, and costumes by Roxanne Giovannuci, Emma Russell and BLOC. There are a couple of scenes where sound and lighting could have emphasized the immortal and omnipotent nature of the characters (Zeus’s threat to Malone and the arrival of his messenger to warn Clio). Overall, though, David Gauci should be commended for his ambition of presenting shows that fail to come to Adelaide professionally. Such is his devotion to the productions that his amateur renditions are a mighty substitute for the original.
