Dizzy Spells
Devised by Doug Tremlett and Terry O’Connell
Space Cabaret Club

The Legerdemain business has been losing its magic lately. It is either in the hands of TV hucksters with Dickensian eponyms and nylon hair or fading roues covered in dove crap. But now comes the New Wave – Doug Tremlett’s Dizzy Spells, a vertiginous blend of rock and roll, comedy and classic conjuring.

After five months in Melbourne and beyond, this four-figure show is as neat as a pin and has proven an astute choice for the new post-Festival season of cabaret in the Space.

Tremlett has a distinguished performance history including Paradise Taxi and Fairground Snapz, both serious successes at The Last Laugh and, like Dizzy Spells, co-devised and directed by Terry O’Connell.

It is not to take anything away from Tremlett to say that O’Connell’s direction ensures that his talents and those of fellow Prestomaniacs – Gina Riley, Tracey Callander and Nick Carrafa – get the pace, staging and finesse they deserve. Powered by Musical Director, George Worontschak’s rock synthesisers, the show switches wittily from comedy magic routines performed by the bizarre Bavarians, Rolf, Eva, Lola and (half- brother) Jurgen, to the sublime conjuring of Tremlett’s solo work.

All the traditional routines are represented from sleight-of-hand to elaborate illusions. Tremlett billows open a scarf and eggs start appearing in dexterous succession. Then, in a more comic style, he’ll turn a rolled handkerchief into a marvel of perpetual and independent motion. We know somehow it has to be lights or mirrors or strings attached but Tremlett has a gift for keeping us gaping regardless.

When the Prestomaniacs throw on their fezzes it is participation time for the audience as luckless patrons are swept from the safety of their chairs to balance wine glasses on their heads and have claret pumped out of their arms. To top that, a semi-willing head is manoeuvred into a guillotine as the Prestos bicker and bellow with giddy hilarity.

After a looney interlude of Teutonic gibberish, Tremlett and Carrata lure Gina Riley into a cabinet for the old three drawer which-way-did- the-torso-go trick. We still don’t know. Similarly, the Houdini mailbag locked in the trunk keeps containing the wrong Presto until finally Doug announces himself from the middle of the audience with a starting pistol.

They do songs too. Not Doug, he’s too busy making things appear and disappear, but Tracey Callander sings I’m Hypnotised while a giant telephone black mimes itself around the stage and Gina Riley does a medley of lady parodies of Stevie Nicks, Cyndi Lauper, Suzanne Vega and best of all, Diana Ross. Her straight number, Television Man, is less successful although Tremlett’s accompanying shadow trickery provided yet another visual bijou.

A high point has to be when Tremlett’s tipsy tramp is called to the bar to discover glasses whizzing out of control and canisters containing a seemingly infinite number of claret bottles. The slapstick buildup combined with Tremlett’s skill makes a standard trick into a stylish theatrical turn.

“Tricky” The Adelaide Review, No.51, May, 1988, p.32.