Reviewed by Barry Lenny, Sunday 15th February 2015
Camille O'Sullivan is one of the world's greatest and most loved cabaret performers and, yet again, she demonstrated beyond any shadow of a doubt that she deserves to be acknowledged in those terms. In the Aurora Spiegeltent, in the Garden of Unearthly Delights, her performance,
Camille O'Sullivan: Changeling, was the ultimate delight. The production was based around her 2012 CD of the same title, which was available for sale after the performance, and drew plenty of purchasers wanting to relive the experience again and again.
Her highly individual performances have roots in Weimar Republic era, pre-war German Kabarett, as well as the darker part of wartime and early postwar French Cabaret. Although her repertoire includes songs from these eras, she is equally adept at taking more modern songs and completely reinventing them. The music, however, is only part of her performances, and Dadaism informs a good degree of everything that happens physically during and between the songs that turn it into a fully realised, unified piece that has a coherency from her first appearance to her exit.
The strains of a recording of the great tenor,
John McCormack, singing the Irish ballad, Macushla, a word which is a term of affection, something that O'Sullivan has for her audiences, and they for her, was a subtly appropriate piece for her entrance through the audience, acknowledging individuals as she made her way to the stage. The performance had already begun.
She was stunningly dressed in an outfit the colour of which is best described by
Dylan Thomas as "sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack", with extensive sequins and beading that sparkled under the stage lights, and multiple diaphanous layers, creating a sensational out of this world, almost Baroque Gothic look. As the show progresses she removes a layer, adds a layer, and lets down her hair, becoming ever freer, wilder, and more dangerous, and there is a reason for this.
Cabaret performances have a theme that runs throughout and, most commonly, this is some form of narrative. That is far too obvious for O'Sullivan's creative mind. It is important to remember that she is also a superb actress and, with ever changing costumes and hairstyles, she changes through a range of different characters. This evolution of her persona through a range of demeanours and physicalities and, of course, the way in which she uses her voice to give each song its own personality, is the underlying theme for this brilliant cabaret performance. There is nothing obvious or easily anticipated in one of O'Sullivan's performances.
Her voice can go from a mere whisper to a roar, from intense brightness to rich chocolaty darkness, and she can range from high comedy to deepest drama, from gentle ballads to power filled rock and everything in between. Versatility takes on a whole new meaning when applied to Camille O'Sullivan. Words like, genius, diva, and star are bandied about freely, so freely, that we now need a new word for people like O'Sullivan, who really do deserve those titles. My guest, who had never seen O'Sullivan perform before, declared this the best thing that she had ever been to, and queued to buy a CD after the performance. Another convert.
A stunning version of Nick Cave's
God is in the House, with a very sparse accompaniment from the keyboard, began the evening, and it felt as though the entire audience was holding its breath. She followed this up superbly with Gillian Welch's
Revelator, but not all of the songs came from the CD. Jaque Brel's
Amsterdam was given a chilling a capella treatment, accompanied by nothing more than her tapping foot. You could have cut the tension in the air with a knife, and the cheers and applause showed that the audience could hardly believe what they had just heard, and appreciated every word. O'Sullivan's remarkable control of her voice, and ability to inject masses of emotion into a song were in full force here.
Kirsty McColl's,
In These Shoes?, showed how her quirky sense of humour can draw more out of a song simply by adding a little emphasis. The also humour carried through into her interactions with the audience, and showed in her ability to get them to join in with the seemingly more frivolous moments with that cheeky nodding to Dadaism. Those who have seen her before, unpacking her small suitcase, and introducing her rabbit, will understand immediately.
You have never heard
God's Away on Business, the
Tom Waits song, interpreted anything like this, with viciously dark, but very funny intent, and what a winner it was with the audience. A snippet of dialogue from the end of the film,
The Wizard of Oz, saw her don her ruby slippers. Now anything could happen before we made it back to the normality, whatever that is, of Kansas.
What did happen was another of those sparse piano accompaniments to
Look, Mummy, No Hands, a wonderfully poignant song about mother and daughter relationships, aging, growing up, growing apart, growing old, and loss, penned by the wonderful
Dillie Keane, best know for her incisively funny and often risqué songs for her marvellous cabaret vocal trio, Fascinating Aida. O'Sullivan brought tears to a good many eyes, and I am sure I saw some in her own.
Bob Dylan's
Don't Think Twice, It's Alright had the whole room jumping, in a rousing version that gave the band a chance to shine, too, urged on by O'Sullivan dancing in front of them.
Jacques Brel was revisited for a moving rendition of
Ne me quitte pas, which is more of a desperate plea to stay because the girls is actually leaving, in the French version, than the rather insipid English version, which begins "If you go away". O'Sullivan gave it that much more meaningful cry that it deserved in an amazing a capella finale to the evening.
That, at least, was the plan. She announced that, due to Fringe time constraints this would the last item and there would be no encore. That is, of course, until she was totally overwhelmed by the standing ovation, cheering, applause, and loud whistling. The 60 minutes allocated became 75 minutes, after a few quick acknowledgements, and the encore that was not going to happen, Nick Cave's
The Ship Song.
Unfortunately, this was the final performance but, with the earlier ones sold out it was the only night that I could get a ticket. That alone says so much. Camille O'Sullivan is not finished with Adelaide yet, though. Her Fringe performances might have ended, but she is also appearing in
Pete Townshend's rock opera,
Tommy, during the Adelaide Festival. Yes, I'll be there.
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