★★★★
Almost six years ago I saw Paul Capsis appear in his autobiographical one-man production at Griffin Theatre, Angela’s Kitchen.
It would go on to not only win Best New Australian Work at the Helpmann Awards, but Best Male Actor as well. As such, the prospect of catching him in another solo show is pretty darned enticing, even if (to be entirely honest) I wasn’t as moved by Angela’s Kitchen as the rest of the theatregoing public.
In Resident Alien, Capsis ditches the auto- and splashes down deep in biography. He is near unrecognisable as our elderly raconteur Quentin Crisp, and not only because of his grand, greying pompadour. In addition to the Griffin Theatre performance, I’ve caught Capsis inhabit numerous roles, and this is the first time I have truly felt unconscious of the performer underneath. The real Crisp died back in 1999, but left a legacy almost tailor-made for Capsis. Grandiloquent, relentlessly idiosyncratic, fashionable, flamboyant, and a touch tragic; really, everything you need to keep a one-man show on the rails.
We meet Crisp in his cluttered apartment in New York, his days seemingly spent entertaining whichever strangers happen to call and request an audience. He is already in his 70s, and it is a testament to Capsis’ physicality that he can portray this age with such delicate assurance; Crisp moves about stage both confident and stiff with impairment.
The story is essentially a series of vignettes, each a philosophical reflection on life, art, society, sex. Kudos to playwright Tim Fountain for avoiding the pitfall of this being an artificial litany of eccentric observations. Rather, our audience with Crisp feels quite natural, although like any real conversation, I suppose, there are occasional ruminations – one on music, in particular – that continue on needlessly after the point had been made.
Nevertheless it is hugely enjoyable, assisted in no small measure by Gary Abrahams’ direction and, particularly, Romanie Harper’s set and costume design – Crisp’s cluttered bedsit, strewn with books, dirty dishes and clothes, comes to feel like a genuine apartment we are somehow privy to. But it is Capsis – the hair, the mannerisms, the make-up that adds an extra 30 years to his face – who keeps all the plates spinning. It has certainly become my favourite turn from the stage veteran, and revived my faith in the possibilities of one-person theatre. Funny, sharp, sad; Resident Alien is a success.
Resident Alienis playing at the Seymour Centre until Saturday July 23.
