Twelve Picture Vaudeville was devised for the
1999 Melbourne Fringe Festival, featuring
Nancy Murdoch and Doris Gabbe in the lead
parts. Jason Freddi wrote the script from an
original idea by him and Cam T (pictured
above). Both played roles, along with Gary
Devon (pictured below) and others (see
program: click on image below).
1999 Melbourne Fringe Festival, featuring
Nancy Murdoch and Doris Gabbe in the lead
parts. Jason Freddi wrote the script from an
original idea by him and Cam T (pictured
above). Both played roles, along with Gary
Devon (pictured below) and others (see
program: click on image below).
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A Note on the writing of Twelve Picture Vaudeville.
By the author
With this begins the process of project in production. Our projection of process spawned - and spurned - by this
year’s Melbourne Fringe Festival. But that’s in the future. Back in June, he entered a show into the Melbourne
Festival, submitted photographs, title, advertising blurb and production details, secured a venue. He gathered around
him four able bodies to create the show. One didn’t show-up, one went to Newcastle to write something else and
the other to Byron Bay to get hip, but the story and show was by then formed - we must have murders, we must
audience participation - a ‘stooge’- and let it be a comedy.
Then he suggested that a couple of old ladies as the central characters – that would be very fringe. And, if we tell
the whole story based in one room, the production will be simple. Their minds turned to the Victorian Horticultural Hall
(the venue) and snow white mountain crests painted on scenic mural hung above the stage. Of course! We are set
in a small town at the foot of this mountain. Why not the 1920s; a good period for old dears to be telling stories and
reminiscing of the glory days of the 1890s when gold was good. Now it’s the 1930s the market crashed, the shows
have stopped, but the girls are still Vaudeville. Ah! ‘Twelve Picture Vaudeville’, up in lights.
Now we have the title, the setting; we have period, we have our leading characters - now what of murder? Well,
one must have motive. What better motive but romantic affair. And this is not going to be any complex murder
mystery. Let’s have each accused become the victim of the next murder. The milkman dead - killed by the jealous
husband who discovers wife in bed with milkman. Husband dead, killed by wife because wife really loves third
man. Wife dead, killed by third man who only married wife to get father’s money. ‘But wait!’, says Cameron, ‘what
of the black man? We must have a black man in a Vaudeville murder mystery. Not just any black man, but a minstrel
black man, one who could be mistaken for a chimney sweep, or even for one of the new civil rights sympathisers!’
‘But Cameron, if we have a black man, he must be woven into the plot, he needs therefore to be implicated in
murder,’ says Barnaby.
‘Well,’ said the author, ‘in that case we shall have a charge of mistaken identity. The old ladies would love the
opportunity to accuse a black man of murder – this is the 1920s and old ladies always thought this way - and if they
were to overhear the black man professing his love for a woman they would be inclined to mistake that woman for
the very same woman whom we have just killed off.’
“So who would the black man really be talking too” asked a student of poetry. “It must be the virgin daughter”, says
I. Nothing could be more upsetting for a Christian father than to have his youngest daughter secretly involved in a
sexual affair with a black man.
So we now have motive enough for the youngest daughter to accuse her father of the murder of the black man -
her lover. That’s the black man dead.... As for the third man whom the ladies suspect of murdering the wife, his
death will be expected, and is sure to get lost in the confusion amidst the arrest of the father for murder. We must
have a sheriff for the task! But the father will not stand for being a murderer, so he will instead call the town to trial
and discover the murderer for himself - as was the wont of small town councillors of yesteryear. At this trial, the
father will have to charge either the sheriff or his daughter of the murder, while the audience will by now be
wondering if these two old ladies, delightful and misleading as they seem, are the murderers.
Now we come to the punchline, and our stooge: the father sentences the sheriff to death, but is interrupted by the
old ladies who instead suggest that they be taken instead of the sheriff, for the ‘sheriff does so love your daughter
and she so loves him in return”. Father says “what a grand idea” and hastily marries the sheriff to his bemused
daughter, sends them on honeymoon and calls for a celebration. “Bring us some champagne barman” to the
audience stooge. “Sorry sir, he says, I only have coffee”. He serves coffee to father and old ladies each of whom
promptly die, so revealing the audience stooge as the murderer.
With the plot well in hand, he sat down to write the play. Erstwhile, Cameron and he set about selection of players.
By the author
With this begins the process of project in production. Our projection of process spawned - and spurned - by this
year’s Melbourne Fringe Festival. But that’s in the future. Back in June, he entered a show into the Melbourne
Festival, submitted photographs, title, advertising blurb and production details, secured a venue. He gathered around
him four able bodies to create the show. One didn’t show-up, one went to Newcastle to write something else and
the other to Byron Bay to get hip, but the story and show was by then formed - we must have murders, we must
audience participation - a ‘stooge’- and let it be a comedy.
Then he suggested that a couple of old ladies as the central characters – that would be very fringe. And, if we tell
the whole story based in one room, the production will be simple. Their minds turned to the Victorian Horticultural Hall
(the venue) and snow white mountain crests painted on scenic mural hung above the stage. Of course! We are set
in a small town at the foot of this mountain. Why not the 1920s; a good period for old dears to be telling stories and
reminiscing of the glory days of the 1890s when gold was good. Now it’s the 1930s the market crashed, the shows
have stopped, but the girls are still Vaudeville. Ah! ‘Twelve Picture Vaudeville’, up in lights.
Now we have the title, the setting; we have period, we have our leading characters - now what of murder? Well,
one must have motive. What better motive but romantic affair. And this is not going to be any complex murder
mystery. Let’s have each accused become the victim of the next murder. The milkman dead - killed by the jealous
husband who discovers wife in bed with milkman. Husband dead, killed by wife because wife really loves third
man. Wife dead, killed by third man who only married wife to get father’s money. ‘But wait!’, says Cameron, ‘what
of the black man? We must have a black man in a Vaudeville murder mystery. Not just any black man, but a minstrel
black man, one who could be mistaken for a chimney sweep, or even for one of the new civil rights sympathisers!’
‘But Cameron, if we have a black man, he must be woven into the plot, he needs therefore to be implicated in
murder,’ says Barnaby.
‘Well,’ said the author, ‘in that case we shall have a charge of mistaken identity. The old ladies would love the
opportunity to accuse a black man of murder – this is the 1920s and old ladies always thought this way - and if they
were to overhear the black man professing his love for a woman they would be inclined to mistake that woman for
the very same woman whom we have just killed off.’
“So who would the black man really be talking too” asked a student of poetry. “It must be the virgin daughter”, says
I. Nothing could be more upsetting for a Christian father than to have his youngest daughter secretly involved in a
sexual affair with a black man.
So we now have motive enough for the youngest daughter to accuse her father of the murder of the black man -
her lover. That’s the black man dead.... As for the third man whom the ladies suspect of murdering the wife, his
death will be expected, and is sure to get lost in the confusion amidst the arrest of the father for murder. We must
have a sheriff for the task! But the father will not stand for being a murderer, so he will instead call the town to trial
and discover the murderer for himself - as was the wont of small town councillors of yesteryear. At this trial, the
father will have to charge either the sheriff or his daughter of the murder, while the audience will by now be
wondering if these two old ladies, delightful and misleading as they seem, are the murderers.
Now we come to the punchline, and our stooge: the father sentences the sheriff to death, but is interrupted by the
old ladies who instead suggest that they be taken instead of the sheriff, for the ‘sheriff does so love your daughter
and she so loves him in return”. Father says “what a grand idea” and hastily marries the sheriff to his bemused
daughter, sends them on honeymoon and calls for a celebration. “Bring us some champagne barman” to the
audience stooge. “Sorry sir, he says, I only have coffee”. He serves coffee to father and old ladies each of whom
promptly die, so revealing the audience stooge as the murderer.
With the plot well in hand, he sat down to write the play. Erstwhile, Cameron and he set about selection of players.
