Theatre Review: Losing Face by Marieke Hardy

The Production: Losing Face by Marieke Hardy

The Company: Melbourne Theatre Company

The Theatre: The Southbank Theatre

Runtime: One hour, 40 minutes (no interval)

Until: 25 July

Stars: 4

This was fun. Good fun. And relatable. And lovely to look at. And very funny. A little bit of light relief after the serious matter that was Retrograde and the classical drama we're seeing in a few weeks when Uncle Vanya opens. 

Losing Face is a girl's own adventure. 

According to the MTC website, "Travel writer Jo is turning 50 and has invited her two ride-or-dies along for an unforgettable celebration: an all-expenses-paid visit to flashy new wellness resort, The Royal You. Expecting a long-overdue catch-up in steam rooms and infrared saunas, they instead arrive at a high-end medispa, where supercharged cosmetic procedures are upsold to unsuspecting guests. When a medical mishap turns disastrous, the women are left with some wildly unexpected and gravity-defying side effects."

Although this bordered on pastiche in places, the first thing I loved about this was the friendship portrayed between Jo (Michaela Banas), Lauren (Kristy Whelan Browne) and Simone (Madelaine Sami). The three women were all hilarious in their own way, with a lot of pathos mixed in for good measure. Looking after them at the medispa is the Nurse (Genevieve Morris) and the medical director, Tomas (Wil King).

The play is souped up for laughs. Marieke Hardy's script, which draws out the nuances of the women's friendship while providing insights of what it's like to be a perimenopausal woman in these times. The twist in the play's end put another layer on this tale of women's friendship and the search for what is perceived as eternal youth.

This was a very enjoyable night out, funny and thought provoking. You can't ask for more than that. 

Today's song:

Sunday Stealing Ask Your Name

 I look at this and I see a lot of red flags - I mean, here are people's passwords there and ready for the taking. But as I've moved on to double authentication and I'm going to do some lying here, I'll play. I have to get ready to go to the theatre in a bit anyway, so it's good to get the questions out of the way. I need to have a shower, because I smell like dog - was cuddling a toy poodle at the hairdressers today. He was adorable and fell asleep on my shelf, but still, I smell like dog and the cat doesn't like it. 

Questions come from Sunday Stealing - but know, they're not going to be quite correct. So a big ner ner raspberry to the scammers out there. 

What Is Your ...

1. ROCK STAR NAME (current pet and first car)? Example: If you have a dog named Max and your first car was a Chevy Malibu, your rock star name would be Max Malibu.

Okay, this one is public knowledge. My rock star name would be Lucifer Holden. That's pretty cool. We'd be on the harder edge of rock, but not death metal. 

2. RACECAR DRIVER NAME (the first names of your grandfathers)?

I'll use my grandfather's middle names for this. Elliot Llewellyn. That sounds pretty good. Mind you, I think that's more suited to racing of old-time race cars. Can see myself in an old MG or Caterham jaunting around the back roads of England. 

3. SOAP OPERA NAME (your middle name, town you were born in)?

I'm going to use my preferred name and place of birth here. I'd be Arcadia London. I could see myself being able to sing with a name like that. 

4. WITNESS PROTECTION PROGRAM NAME (your parents' middle names)?

Neither of my parents have a middle name so I'm going to have to make this one up too. Mum has always said that if she had a middle name it would be Elizabeth. As for Dad, we'll I'll give him a generic one. His middle name can be John. So that would make me some derivative of Elizabeth John. Maybe Lizzie Johnstone. 

5. ROMANCE AUTHOR NAME (favorite flower, favorite season/holiday)?

Ah, see this one is far enough removed not to be used for a password. And again, I'm going to lie.

Jonquil Rose Winters would be my romance writers name - though I still think that my other writerly name, Trelawny Thom would be good too.

Today's song: 

The Land Seal

 I'm busy binge watching the Legally Blonde prequel, Elle, on Netflix. This is happily entertaining, so I don't feel like writing. 

I'll tell you about the land seal tomorrow. 

Her name is Zoe. She's a Staffie. 

Not Neil. She does look a bit like him. 

Neil, however, doesn't play fetch with gumnuts. And Neil's Dad doesn't yell out, "Zoe, your mate's here,' when I walk past. 

Today's song: 

Boom Boom

Boom boom. 

Boom boom. 

Boom boom. 

Boom boom.

I'm trying to sort out a heap of documentation, helping another project get their resources in order. Get to use my rather critical eye to do the finessing. Oh, what fun. Don't millennials have an eye for detail? I ask myself. 

Boom boom

Boom boom

Boom boom. 

I ask the guy next to me if he can hear drums. 

He can. 

- They're getting ready for Modi's visit. He's talking to the masses at Marvel at six.  

- Oh, joy. So, the Indian diaspora is converging at marvel this afternoon.  

- Yep. 

Boom boom. 

Boom boom. 

Boom boom. 

- Those drums are starting to give me the shits. 

I should mention that the person next to me is a dapper, middle-aged bloke of Indian extraction. Lovely guy. 

- Me too. I don't want to celebrate Modi.

- Really?

- He's evil, he tells me. 

- Okay. I can't comment on Indian politics. I'm staying out of it. I don't know anything to have an opinion. 

He smiles at me and nods. 

Boom boom. 

Boom boom. 

Boom boom. 

- Those bloody drums. 

A colleague excused themself from the office a little earlier. They didn't feel safe. And fair enough.

But I've worked down in the Docklands for long enough not to rise to the bait of a little political insurrection. I was in the building when riot police were called in to babysit Christopher Pyne (yes, really - it was the only book launch I've been to where riot police were involved.) I was in London when the IRA were regularly bombing the place. I wandered the streets of Hong Kong during the protests. A little bit of political unrest doesn't phase me. 

Boom boom. 

Boom boom. 

Yet the drums were unsettling. 

- Those drums are annoying, I said to my colleague. 

- I don't find them a celebration, not for this man. But what are we to do?

- Maan nahi janti! I responded in the only bit of Hindi that I know. 

- You do that well. 

I know nothing other than the drums were driving me spare. A harbinger of who knows what. 

Leaving work a few hours later, the front doors were locked on the building. There was a police presence - nothing over the top. No horses. No riot squad. We could easily leave by a convenient side door. 

Everything was calm. The locked doors were a precaution, nothing more. They do that for Friday night football matches. 

We were safe. People made their way to Marvel Stadium. It was quieter than a football match. People were orderly. 

Nothing to see here. 

Boom boom. 

Today's song: 

Holiday Planning

 I'm not holiday planning. I'm thinking about holidays, but I'm not actually holiday planning. 

There's a couple of things that are coming up when I thinking about holidays. 

• Where do I want to go?
• What do I want to do?
• How long will I go for?

Being a contractor, you have to get things planned and paid for. 

Also travelling alone, what option to I take? Solo travelling? Go on a tour? Do I go somewhere I've been before? Do I stay at home with the cat? 

If I'm going on tour, Vietnam and Cambodia are high on the list. I'd do a tour. Intrepid have a good one that takes in a lot. I really want to go to Angkor Wat. And I love Vietnamese food. 

Japan is also high on the list, but everybody is going to Japan. But Japan is safe and fairly easy to get around, from what I'm told. 

Then I could go over to the UK, hire a car and go Cathedralling. Poking around cathedrals makes me happy. Maybe hire a car and go down to Cornwall and have a good look around St Michael's Mount, Truro, Wells, Exeter, Bath, Salisbury, Gloucester. Of course a visit to Stratford-Upon-Avon to visit Shakespeare, and maybe a trip down to Canterbury Cathedral to go and visit St Thomas a Beckett - and maybe then up to Lincoln to see Richard III (They hadn't dug him out of the car park last time I was there.) And of course, I could go to my favourite of the English cathedrals - Ely. 

Okay, you're seeing my eyes light up. 

Or do similar in Scotland.... so much to explore. 

Then there's France. I'm nearly 1400 days into my daily French practice. There's so much in Paris I want to see - so many places in France to explore. And more cathedrals. 

Travelling alone, there are considerations. How do you get there? Who will look after the cat? How long do I go for. 

Or do I visit my uncle in Tijuana - though there is no way I'm going to America at the moment. 

Or maybe do a long weekend in Hobart to go roan around MONA, and then up to Uluru, because I've never been there and I rather like the Territory. 

Ah, it's a good diversion. 

Back to the ironing. 

Today's song: 

Today, I'm Belgian

 If you ask me what I think about 'football' - which is normally known as 'soccer' here because we have lots of different football - as in Australian Rules Football, which is what I call football. Up in New South Wales and Queensland, they have Rugby League, which they call football. Then there's Rugby Union, which is different again, but that's rugby not football. 

Regardless, if you ask me what I think about football/soccer, I will normally come back with the adage that if I want to see eleven people not score, I'd organise a group of mates to go down the pub. 

I'm not really a football person, of any code. I like watching the haka before rugby union games. I'm a nominal Adelaide Crows supporter. I can tell you where we are on the ladder (Currently 5th) and if we won the week before (we did). I can normally tell you what North Melbourne and Hawthorn are doing as well, as friends are footy tragics and they don't shut up about it, so I make sure I know what's going on to be polite.

 I go to the footy (Aussie Rules) once every two years where I'm told off for taking a book or my knitting with me and then I tune out until the last quarter. 

Then there's this World Cup thing going on in America, and I prick up my ears. 

It's like an election. There are tables and statistics and all sorts of things that appeal to my fizzy brain. The least of the things I'm interested in are the actual games. 

I've loved watching the fans show the Americans how to have a good time. 

The Dutch:

(I love the English translation.... skip your medication, so you can lose your mind...)

There's the Norwegians:

And the Scottish drinking every pub dry in their wake, complete with kilts and bagpipes:

Even the Aussies got in on the singing:

We also keep hearing of little towns being wonderful to the visiting teams. Case in point, the Algerians went to Kansas, and the Kansans took them on as one of their own. 

This is joyful stuff. 

Then you hear about the Americans, who have every right to play a team and do well. But when their lead striker was red carded, rightly or wrongly, and the U.S. President calls up the head of FIFA to get the red card revoked. It just stinks.

Even I've heard about how corrupt FIFA can be.

But that just sucks. 

So today, I was an honorary Belgian. 

Sitting in the office next to a colleague of Spanish extraction (he's happy) we kept our eye on the United States vs Belgium match. 

"It's 3-1 with five minutes to go," I told him at one stage. 

"There's 15 minutes to go."

"Really - I thought they were 40-minute halves."

"Nah, 45 minutes."

"Goes to show that I don't like soccer."

"Football."

"Whatever. The Belgians are winning and long may that remain. Today, I'm an honorary Belgian."

"Indeed. Me too."

I reckon that a lot of people were honorary Belgians today. 

The final score, 4-1, felt a little like a cosmic reparation.

Well, it will be until the Orange Buffoon / Cankles McTacotits / Daddy Dumpy Pants / the Overinflated Ooompa Loompa / (insert your favourite name for the current US President here) demands of the FIFA president that there's a rematch....

Time for some Leffe and chips with mayonnaise I reckon. 

Today's song: 

Yeah...Nah....

 Friday was doctor day. It had to be done. It's time to go back on a mental health plan. I think it's a good thing to talk over your mental health needs with a professional when you're in a good place.

So, I trudged over to the doctors, spilled my guts, worked out that I no longer have anxiety, but some lingering depression is there (yeah, yeah, we know) and thrown in the neurodiversity crap. All fun. 

I get my mental health plan. I'm about to leave and she brings up the bear in the room. 

"Have you thought about going on weight loss medication?" she asked. 

"Umm, we tried Ozempic - I didn't like it. Made me feel awful."

"The drugs have changed a lot. Montjaro and Wegovy are much better than Ozempic."

"Really. And they're still expensive."

"Not as bad as Ozempic," she tells me.

"And they make your hair fall out..." I ask. 

"Yes, that is one of the downsides." she tells me.

"Well, count me out. If it's going to make my hair fall out, I'm not interested. I'm a Leo. I need my mane."

"It's not a great side effect."

"Definitely not interested. Besides, the Ritalin drives down my appetite. It's a good thing."

We left the conversation there. 

You can't part a Leo with her mane. It's not going to happen. 

Today's song: