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The annual showcase The Stars Come Out! remains that rare thing on the local entertainment scene the variety show with all the splashes of colour, diversity and unpredictability synonymous with the peculiarly challenging form.
In its fifth year, the festival institution presents little-known, developing talent alongside seasoned troupers who are infrequently seen despite their high profiles.
In years gone by, the wavering quality of the artists and the gap can be alarmingly wide has given the event the feel of an eisteddfod, a rallying point for singers, dancers, comics, musicians and drag queens of differing degrees of panache, and herein lies at least some of the excitement and uncertainty.
Variety concerts of this scale and length it's beginning to rival the Academy Award's ceremony are problematic and demand an experienced, cool-headed director to enable the show to run smoothly.
After a promising start with The Queen's (Gerry Connolly's) amusingly patronising Mardi Gras message, things got bumpy indeed, with more seams and black holes between acts than a Hunter Valley coalmine. And the lighting, not so much the design, was sorely lacking and ill-timed. Fortunately the Nashville cowgirl, Tina C the hit of last year's festival was on hand to whip things along, one of her best lines relating the merriment that comes from heartache. "As they say in Nashville no pain, no financial gain!"
With much-appreciated irreverence, Tina C added some semblance of flair to the sloppy structure of the first half, referring to the gaps between songs and dance routines as "deliberate" so as to give patrons ample time to ponder what they had just seen. But one could live with the silences and the lack of polish pulling the disparate threads of the showcase together because of the expertise of the artists themselves. The ever-resourceful Phil Scott did a terrific James Bond turn and Mitchell Butel and Jason Langley took a spirited leaf out of Alex Harding's songbook, including 'Only Heaven Knows'.
For high-wattage star power, Philip Quast, Judi Connelli and Nancye Hayes truly shone. Quast is a commanding and exciting talent and not seen here often enough, while Connelli, true to form and full of surprises, persuasively realised a dramatic turn from Gypsy with such vigour, instinct and intensity that one wishes for the day that she can be cast in a production of the musical or a concert version at the very least.
And Nancye Hayes, out in front of a beaded vaudeville backcloth, lit the stage for a sassy version of Broadway Baby, a song you fear you never want to hear again until a performer of Hayes's ilk seizes control.
The show's second half, if not any more cohesive than the first, was generally stronger and Imelda Corcoran (who is starring in Campion Decent's play Baby X) proved herself a very capable host, even when Connolly was on hand and veering haplessly out of control. Portia Turbo and her Olympian troupe despite the fey choreography made a colourful splash and Colin Salter, accompanied by Michael Tyack on piano, displayed his vocal and acting strength in communicating humour and sentiment in a song. Among the best of the night was Tim Draxl, having just come off stage in The Sound of Music a few blocks away, who determinedly showed his versatility as a singer and dancer for a slick and sexy version of 'Hanky Panky' from Dick Tracey, fired up by Missy Stephens's quick-fire, Fosse-style gestures and steps.
To cap the night off, Deborah Cheetham's soaring, poised 'Summertime' floated through the air, and Paul Capsis, a true original, took the community celebration out on a rousing note of solidarity and pride. For all the difficulties encountered along the way, he and his fellow entertainers I'm trying to forget the ironing board dance number claimed and won the night.
© The Sydney Morning Herald
