“Lana Schwarcz’s one-woman act Small Talk can be likened to a sort of ‘Play School for the Mad’. It is a mix of puppetry, comedy and character acting that highlights Schwarcz’ unique multi-media talents.
Small Talk explores what would happen if there was an ‘Uber Sound Machine’ that can get you in touch with your inner child and even bring them out into the real world. This new-age science experiment is used by Tilly (Schwarcz) to help out a small group of women (also Schwarcz) who are having some troubling issues. But what happens if something goes wrong and you can’t get your inner child back in again?
Schwarcz plays all four main characters, as well as puppeteering their inner child counterparts. There’s Tilly, the overly bubbly creator of the UberSound Machine; Margareet, the troubled single lady; Rachael, the snobbish expectant mother; and Jason, the bloke looking for love. Each are unique characters with their own mannerisms, quirks and backgrounds. Schwarcz moves between her four personalities with incredible ease, making the stage seem populated and alive.
The world of Small Talk is made all the more vibrant with the use of the puppets and ingenious props, the foremost of which is the Uber Sound Machine. Clever sound recordings and lighting add an extra dimension of life to the play, and engross us in the action.
Small Talk is an absolutely hilarious play, if you don’t mind a bit (or a lot) of black humour. At the same time, your own inner child is sure to enjoy the puppetry and craftsmanship involved. Small Talk is a bubbly, wacky, and most of all, unique show.”

“There’s one born on every stage – your inner child, that is. Hopefully acknowledging yours isn’t quite as traumatic as Small Talk portrays. If vulnerability is the essence of childhood, and the fear of heartbreak our biggest barrier to love, then this show breathes life into some mighty
big concepts. That Girl’s consummate skills bring multiple characters to life in this one-woman play, as well as breathing life into several puppets, shadow
puppets and even inanimate objects such as her answering machine. Sometimes the character changes are fast and furious, but the audience is well-engaged and there is no difficulty suspending disbelief.
Fear and freedom, as well as love and hate, are explored through the eyes of our inner children. And once we allow our inner children to bring the colour back into our adults world, can we even put the genie back?
Rating: 4/5”

“When her crippling “gerontophobia” leaves her unable to eat raisins, a 31-year-old nurse named Jackie takes a job at a Jewish seniors’ home and discovers there’s more to aging
than getting old.
Aiding her enlightenment are a handful of opinionated golden-agers — who are so endearing and authentic you’ll forget they’re made of latex and foam.
This brilliant and unusual one-woman show from Australia’s Lana Schwarcz is so much more than Muppets wearing dentures, cute accents, and jokes about incontinence. It’s a moving, insightful, and often-hilarious look at why we’re so afraid to face the inevitable decline of our own bodies.
Schwarcz incorporates testimonials from real-life nursing-home residents, their recorded voices
adding a poignant touch.
Go ahead, drink the Geritol: Sol and Rosie will lead you gently into that good night.
5 Stars.”

“Wry, wrinkled and right on.
Grandparents rule Aussie comedy.

Before Grampa Sol and Grandma Rosie begins, an anonymous voice observes,
“She has made the play from the moments in our lives.” Apparently the production was partially put together out of interviews in a Jewish home for the aged in Melbourne.
Seems a strange place for a fizzy and funny show like this. But the central character, a nurse, is an appealing creation and the elderly have a lifetime of stories to draw on. “It’s all about memory,” says one. “Everyday is where you were 30 years ago.”
Laura Schwarcz is an Australian filmmaker, street performer, puppeteer and all around player. She’s one of those performers who immediately commands a stage and fills every second she’s on.
Her (fictional) nurse suffers from Gerontophobia, a fear of growing old — and old people. In fact, she faints when confronted by the elderly. As a remedy, she forces herself to look after the aged.
The rest of the play has to do with her growing regard for the people she looks after. “Every one of them is somebody’s mummy and daddy,” she thinks.
“How is it that a mum can look after seven children but seven children can’t look after one mum?”
Schwarcz is also a puppeteer of considerable talent. Most of her puppets are nearly life-size and like any good puppeteer she disappears into them. It doesn’t take long for you to accept the words as coming from her creations.
When she lets them go, the marionettes slump into the listless position so familiar to anyone who has spent time in a home for the aged.
She also manipulates a bank of teeth and eyes that hilariously play a game of bingo.
The nurse character is well designed for the situation she finds herself in. She’s upbeat, optimistic, and kind of klutzy — the kind of non-threatening person that would draw out the best in her charges.
We laugh WITH, and I must admit, at times, AT her old patients. Like children, old folks can hold funny perceptions and ideas. And what stories! The Polish Jew who runs away from the village back home and finds himself in Australia. The 95 -and the 98-year old who fall in love.
And it’s all filtered through this delightful, likeable young lady who falls in love with her old people. You will too.”