Mark Leonard Winter (Paul), Socratis Otto (Johnny) and Anna Samson (Marnie) in Birdland; Photo Jeff Busby
Fame has come to exude a force of almost gravitational proportion. It draws all objects towards it, distorts the paths of objects that come near it and in large enough concentrations has the ability to distort reality itself. Like gravity, these effects are very hard to feel on the scale of everyday life, but enlarge your perspective enough and the scale of its effects become truly mind blowing. Depicting stories of fame on stage and screen can be fraught by their obvious reflexive nature. To see those who trade on fame, talk about the darker side of fame, plying the craft by which they became famous can all seem a little self-indulgent. In Birdland, the self-indulgence is confined to its characters, who become the objects which make the invisible force of fame clear.
None more so than Paul. He has ascended to the apex of rock-stardom and after solely inhabiting the world of touring, fabulous hotel rooms, adoring fans, an unlimited flow of cash from his record label and every imaginable pleasure on tap, that world is his sole frame of reference. The most interesting thing about Paul though is not only his distorted sense of reality, but how it seems to infantilise him. His unravelling is coupled with a regression in which maturity, responsibility and empathy dissolve and all that remains is a selfish and frightened child. It’s a fascinating process to watch and Mark Leonard Winter is outstanding, managing to maintain a tireless and frenetic energy despite almost never leaving the stage.
The support cast may not give as much in stage-time but their ability to slip in and out of the seventeen characters that they portray between them is equally impressive. Anna Sampson’s Marnie and Bert LaBonté as Paul’s wheeler-dealer manager were stand-outs in an ensemble performance that had few sour notes.
For all its drama, Birdland opts for a slow burn rather than volatile ups and downs that one might expect from the rock ‘n roll lifestyle and this helps a great deal to humanise events that could easily feel sensationalised. There are of course moments of furious intensity but they felt more like brief respites than troughs. Each release allowing the pressure to build just a little bit more until it all ultimately unravels.
Birdland is captivating, insightful and darkly humorous. It manages to provide insight and heart to the subject of fame in an era where both the factual and fictional discourses have reached saturation and stories of the darker side of fame wash over us with little effect. Birdland sticks with you. It gets under your skin and simultaneously evokes the desire and revulsion for fame that so mark our morbid fascination with it.
Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars
Birdland
by Simon Stephens
Melbourne Theatre Company, Southbank Theatre
6 June – 11 July
