Swilcan Theatrical Actorium Showcase — Review

At 6pm on 25 November, theatre fans descended on Aikman’s cellar, warmly lit and rich with cheerful conversation. It was time for the Swilcan Actorium’s semesterly showcase, wherein its members showcase their progress, learning from the method of a different theatre practitioner each week. 

In her introduction, founder India Kolb was eager to emphasise the fact that this was a ‘work in progress’, rather than a polished production. As I looked around, I noticed a suspicious number of ‘reserved’ notes scattered on chairs around the cellar. Beneath the rustic wooden ceiling bedecked in shinty sticks, Swilican actors were scattered within the crowd, including one appearing behind the bar itself. By 6pm, the venue wasn’t teeming, but this made for an intimate affair, as if you really were stumbling upon these people chatting at a bar. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a voice projected across the room, signalling the start of the show.

The first piece, a scene from Angels In America, began light-heartedly. Sitting at the side of the room by unsuspecting audience members, a humorous dialogue began between two men played by Dylan Swain and Aidan Monks, whose laughter-inducing closeness was skillfully rendered tragic with the reveal of the latter’s legionnaire diagnosis.

After the cruel plot twist, Hannah Shiblaq then steered the audience into sardonic comic relief with her rendition of the well-known Fleabag monologue. Utilising the bar area itself, be it checking herself out in the mirror or leaning across at the audience, Shiblaq delivered an unusual American interpretation but one which landed perfectly.

Shiblaq then strode across the room, appearing to rejoin the audience, but instead became a youthful pop-pawn in what was the standout scene of the night, with Daniel Ottowage embodying a slimy, sex-pest Hollywood mogul. Alongside the pair was Clara Curtis, playing the concerned mother caught in the dilemma of wanting success for her child while unable to escape the exploitation of Ottowage’s character. Shiblaq’s innocent rendition of ‘When I Fall In Love’, followed by her pursuit upstairs by Ottowage, was chilling.

As the show progressed, what had seemed like a room of strangers had rapidly become a constellation of characters, by whose musings on the nature of existence the audience were deeply engaged. Those in attendance were clearly affected by Lovely Selwyn’s monologue from Wasted, which showcased her character’s nostalgia for a bygone childhood. “We spend life retelling life,” Selwyn’s character succinctly noted. This was directly juxtaposed by Ava Saman’s monologue from Everything You Touch, in which her character drunkenly disconnects from her mother’s impending death while revealing a humorous, yet tragic, madness by way of her Freudian desire to sleep with her own father. 

I was certainly not expecting the showcase’s ticket collector to spring up and act, but when she did, Hannah Savage fizzled with energy. With Selwyn now reappearing as an older impulse-shoplifter, the pair had perfect chemistry as they chatted at the bar, seeking moral justification for stealing a watch. The acting was, as in other scenes, so effortless that in the bar setting, it seemed less like a play and more like overhearing a masterfully-composed conversation.

Further pursuing the theme of life and death, Kolb’s monologue ‘Mr Jenkins and My Mother’ explored a child’s first experience of death through the demise of her teddy bear. The humorously macabre image of the bedraggled ‘dead’ bear, and the child, in wide-eyed despair and disappointment at her mother, were unique and witty. Next up, performing a monologue from Driftwood, Dylan Swain catapulted the audience into a fantastical seafaring scene. Standing in the middle of the floor, he exerted a commanding energy. 

Finally, ‘Heath-row’ — written by Kolb herself — provided a humorous conclusion to the show. “Who shouts ‘I’ve got a bomb’ at security?” was the exasperated and revealing cry of Samans to her scene partner Ellen Rowlett. The two had perfect comedic chemistry, and were deservedly met with raucous laughter.

I would like to firmly oppose Kolb’s opening assertion that this was a collection of ‘works-in-progress’. Each scene was given the appropriate serious or energetic treatment it demanded, and one would never have guessed that these were ‘actors in training’. Despite the occasional rushing in and out of Aikmans staff and creaking floorboards overhead, Swilcan’s actors remained unphased. Their skilful performances were mirrored by the enthusiastic applause from the audience and collective rushing-up to the actors at the show’s conclusion. I also felt that the range of pieces were well-handled, particularly by actors whose dual roles demanded a sudden shift between the tragic and comedic. “It all started in Aikman's cellar…” the next Hollywood star will surely reminisce.

Photos by @sase.sta

Graphics by India Kolb