It took spending the night to truly fall in love with Arts Centre Melbourne (2024)

THEATRE
8/8/8: Rest ★★★
Rising Festival, Arts Centre Melbourne, until June 9

I know Arts Centre Melbourne intimately, but not until spending an entire night there at 8/8/8: Rest have I truly fallen in love with the place.

Let’s face it, ACM is no Sydney Opera House. It never will be, and like most Melburnians, I regard it with a mixture of affection and pity.

The squat brutalist exteriors. The kitsch spire, vaulting into the heavens. And the plush, almost mobsterish opulence (straight from the “greed is good” phase of mid-’80s capitalism) decorating the warren of theatres underneath.

Architecturally, it tests the boundaries of aesthetic coherence, as does 8/8/8: Rest, an eight-hour, site-specific durational performance set within its womb-like embrace.

This is the second instalment in a sprawling 24-hour theatre trilogy from Harriet Gillies, Marcus McKenzie and collaborators, split over eight hours each of work, rest and play. It kicked off with 8/8/8: Work at last year’s Rising festival, which explored the exploitation and absurdity of contemporary workplace culture from 9 to 5 (and in a signature irony, sometimes made the audience feel like unpaid interns).

8/8/8: Rest might pose an even tougher challenge for those who aren’t night owls or terrible insomniacs. The piece runs from 9pm to 5am, interrogating the commodification of sleep – among other things – while keeping you up all night.

It begins with corporate satire. Audience members don lanyards and become delegates at a conference of sleep experts where almost everything that can go wrong, does. Short lectures on the latest scientific research are often waylaid: one speaker takes DMT and wafts into a pre-verbal trance onstage, while dodgy corporate entertainment (reworked by a children’s entertainer for an adult audience) is needed to cover serious misconduct from the conference’s chief corporate sponsor.

As we approach midnight, however, the conference dissolves, the audience gets monogrammed “Snuggies” to wear, and we step into a surreal, dreamlike night journey, where the Arts Centre itself speaks to us, where swamp creatures roam and paintings come to life, and where the logistical nightmare of making a show of this scale at ACM is comically exposed.

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The last part is as bizarre as any of the surrealist physical theatre in the show and involves an extended sequence (which seems to use verbatim email exchanges between artists and ACM staff) that re-enacts the ordeal of removing an Alice in Wonderland puppet exhibition from the Arts Centre foyer.

The saga of the vitrines (glass display cases for the puppets) unleashes a Kafka-like maze of bureaucratic absurdity – and perhaps in a sign of things to come, shows how inseparable work and rest can be – right at the point where sleep deprivation starts to bite. It’s like a lucid dream, and the piece only gets more hallucinatory as the wee hours start to stretch toward dawn.

8/8/8: Rest does have mercy on us. A beanbag-strewn sleep and meditation space has been arranged so you can nod off if you desire, while insomniacs can party at an impromptu rave, elsewhere in the building.

There are longueurs, of course, but this is an intricate and provocative investigation of how we approach the third of our lives we should spend asleep. It’s also a triumph of site-specific performance. This is Arts Centre Melbourne as you’ve never seen it before: an iconic ugly duckling, dreaming it’s a swan.
Reviewed by Cameron Woodhead

MUSIC
OneFour: The Get Back Tour ★★★★
Rising Festival, Festival Hall, June 8

On the left of the stage, a sign stating “Welcome to Mt Druitt” sits behind the beat-up, graffitied front end of a car. A short film plays scenes of individuals fleeing the police, of burning buildings, men throwing cash in the air and a mob holding burning sticks. The crowd has their phones poised and ready to capture controversial rappers OneFour as they burst on stage to deafening cheers.

Formed in 2014 in western Sydney, OneFour are praised as pioneers of Australian drill music, a subgenre of hip hop noted for its minimalistic production and explicit lyrics akin to gangsta rap.

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It’s rare for the group to tour, in large part due to long-term issues between the group and authorities – in particular, the NSW police, which have claimed their material can incite violence.

The issues – and the impact on OneFour’s commercial success – is well-documented in the 2023 Netflix film OneFour: Against All Odds. Even the group’s founder Jerome “J Emz” Misa expressed his apprehension about their Rising Festival gig going ahead.

Performing last night were three members of the original group: J Emz, Spencer “Spenny” Magalogo and Salec “Lekks” Su’a. Current member Dahcell “Celly” Ramos was recently charged for an alleged knife threat and former member Pio “YP” Misa (J Emz’s brother) has become an ordained priest.

J Emz leads most of the crowd engagement and storytelling across the set. The crowd turns on their phone torches, illuminating the space as he performs Heartless solo, a softer ballad that was co-written with YP. “You guys know the situation,” he says in his introduction. He later dedicates Welcome To Prison “to those incarcerated right now”.

Due to their limited performance opportunities, you could tell the group gave their all to make the most of it. Bounding across the stage, they spit impassioned lyrics that document inter-gang postcode tensions and the members’ own hardships and religious upbringings.

OneFour’s ongoing struggles to overcome the barriers of race and class ingrained in Mt Druitt’s social fabric are evident throughout their show: in the gunshot sound effects from the onstage DJ, in the screen’s content with images of violence, as well as the lyrics of their music. Even J Emz mentions at one point “we’re not making it out of the trenches”.

The final song’s arrival felt a little abrupt and without enough warning from the group. The inclusion of softer songs like Heartless and Welcome To Prison showed their emotional range, but the lyrical content could feel a little one-note, as did the maintained high intensity of the rest of the set. However, OneFour’s rawness is part of their appeal.

To say that their music incites violence in its listeners is reductive to those who live with these experiences every day. Their audience engaged with the performance and then left the gig with minimal fuss.

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Throughout the performance, there’s a strong sense of community. The group’s crew is often seen side of stage, filming them and the crowd.

When the final song, Spot the Difference does come up, they join them at the centre as the crowd jumps so hard that the floor vibrates.
Reviewed by Vyshnavee Wijekumar

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