Filthy Fun

You are not your phone

In this period of YouTube celebrities, reality TV starlets and Kardashians we have to keep up with, it can be challenging to relate to theatrical characters. Audiences are regularly plated-up a plethora of classics, complete with over-the-top performances and melodious and fruity language, contrasted against edgy, overly dark interpretations of long-lost fables, presented on stark stages that we struggle to comprehend (but laud nonetheless). Wouldn’t it be nice to see something closer to our own reality?

Thankfully, this is what Dirty People by Charlie Falkner delivers. Set in a nameless Sydney bar in a parallel universe where camera phones are soon to be banned, Dirty People is a cheeky comedy about the ‘selfie-generation’. A young woman takes a seat in the bar, pulling out her phone. She is joined by a young man. The play ensues. Yes, unfortunately it is difficult to say much more about the plot because what makes Dirty People so engaging is the slow reveal. Best just to say you won’t be bored, and you’ll definitely laugh out loud.

Falkner’s characters are very well drawn, and each has their own distinct voice, easily recognisable but falling thankfully short of caricature. The script is pacey, sharp and very, very funny. Perhaps the only fault comes towards the end, where Falkner tries a little too hard to bring a moral to the story. The character’s monologue is a little laboured and sits at odds with the speed of the rest of the dialogue. But ultimately this is a clever new work that will hopefully receive the attention it deserves.

Bringing Dirty People to the Depot Theatre stage are a company of captivating and committed young actors. This is more than just clever casting; from their mannerisms to tone of voice, you are convinced these people are the real deal.

Perhaps in the case of the character of James this is no accident, as he is played by the author, Falkner. However, there is something very likeable about his fidgety portrayal of a young man who is constantly at a loss as to his purpose. His resemblance to the late Heath Ledger aside, Falkner is utterly watchable and his timing is excellent.

Charlotte Devenport is Lucy, an aloof bitch who has absolutely no problem if you don’t like her – in fact, she seems to revel in it. Charlotte’s face tells the story here – flat and un-emotive in a deliberate way. Her performance contrasts delightfully against Falkner’s almost frenetic style.

Rex, the wannabe-yuppie with anger management issues, is played with control by Sam Devenport. He is a ticking time bomb, and his explosions are bodily and hilarious. Playing his girlfriend Tina is Zoe Jensen. A lesser performer could be tripped up by this character, jumping superficially onto the childish dialogue to deliver us a simple, ditzy blonde. But Jensen has done her homework and her interpretation is nuanced – beneath the curls and the bling and the “Babe!”s is a feminist force to be reckoned with.

Rounding out the cast is Sam Delich as Fred, the bartender (and later Ted). Beginning his performance with just a little too much enthusiasm, Delich soon settles into the rhythms of the 21^st century little Aussie battler. His accent and intonation are well practiced, if occasionally a bit hammy, but in context this is not really an issue. Again, his mannerisms are effective and true-to-life.

Director Michael Abercromby has embraced the spirit of the play. He demonstrates a clear understanding of each of the characters and the world they inhabit, extracting excellent performances from the whole cast. He handles the logistically challenging script with ease, and with thanks to Thomas Moore’s sound design gives us well-timed phone calls and suitably muffled voices from another room.

Abercromby shows an aptitude for comedic timing and has not shied away from the physical elements of comedy. While not quite slapstick, the actors literally throw themselves into the gags. Watch out for the chair which takes a starring role in the second act!

The set is dressed well – I expect I’ve probably been in a bar just like this one in the last week – and the restrained use of furniture (there is just one table and two chairs in the centre of the stage) gives the actors plenty of room to move. Lighting is simple but atmospheric.

Overall this is a deliciously funny play brought to life by a gifted cast and keen-eyed director. At just 75 minutes with no interval it’s definitely worth tearing yourself away from MTV for!

Details
Viewed: 4 May 2016
Venue: The Depot Theatre, Marrickville
Author:Charlie Falkner
Director: Michael Abercromby
Production Company: Doonbrae Productions in association with Jackrabbit Theatre

First published on The AU Review: http://arts.theaureview.com/reviews/theatre-review-dirty-people-the-depot-theatre-sydney-performances-until-8-may/ 

To Be a Man or Not To Be - That Is The Question

Poetry and motion and what it means to be a man

The subject of masculinity and what it means to be a man in today’s Australia are skillfully explored in Darlinghurst Theatre Company’s production of Savages, written by Patricia Cornelius.

Opening with a blast of light and sound, we meet four thirty-something Aussie men, about to embark on the ‘trip of a lifetime’ aboard a cruise ship. While we never know what bonds these men together, they are instantly recognisable as a pack, growing more animalistic as the play goes on.

This is a production that fully utilises all the elements of theatre – sound, lighting, set, script, and physical performance. What’s more, they work together smartly to create a cohesive, slick production where nothing is redundant.

Production Designer, Jeremy Allen, has captured the feeling of being on a cruise ship brilliantly without giving us anything too literal. The portholes that run the length of the back wall imply the nautical theme, as does the wooden decking used to cover the stage. But the set really works because, just like passengers on a ship, the actors are confined to a finite space – in this case, a platform which is only one third of what is available on the Eternity Theatre’s stage. They are ‘imprisoned’ for the duration of the play – pacing like caged animals staring at the space beyond.

Complementing the set is Sian James-Holland’s lighting design. Full of bold colour, the lighting guides us as we traverse the ship from morning to night and night club. The strongest element of the design is the use of the portholes to disguise directional spotlights aimed into the auditorium. Through this device, the audience becomes a participant in the production. Targeted by blinding lights, the stage disappears from our view. We are caught in the spotlight – as if to say, yes, you too are a part of this. You’re also to blame. As a woman, this lighting state had the added, chilling effect of making me feel as though I was the prey currently being stalked, even though the actors’ faces were hidden. Unsettling yes, but a poignant dramatic choice.

There is a poetic quality to Cornelius’ script which takes a little getting used to. It’s a bit like watching Shakespeare for the first time in a while, where the initial dialogue jars and confuses the ear, until you settle into the rhythm and rhyme. There is an interesting juxtaposition between the lyrical style of the script and the vocal cadence adopted by the actors. These are blokey, Aussie men, who generally speak in monosyllabic sentences, dotted with profanity. Cornelius has managed to capture this characterisation while still giving us a melodious script. It shouldn’t work, but it really does.

Helping to bring these two contrasting script elements together is the cast – Yure Covich (Craze), Josef Ber (Rabbit), Troy Harrison (George) and Thomas Campbell (Runt). Their rehearsal clearly shows in the frequent unison moments and pacey, inter-connected dialogue. Similarly, their movement has been choreographed superbly by Julia Cotton (Movement Director) to take into account the limited space, and the progression towards an animal state. Pushed too far, this stylised movement would be laughable and distracting, but thankfully Director, Tim Roseman, has brought a subtly to the performances of his cast.

There are no standouts here, but this is not a criticism; this is in every way an ensemble piece and all four actors bring their A-game. We see their individual characters emerge only occasionally, reverting quickly back to the safety of the fraternity.

At the heart of the production is the question of what leads men to behave in the way they do. How much influence do mates have over one another? What does it mean to be a man? What role have women played in emasculating the so-called stronger sex? While not ever really answering these questions, Cornelius’ script and its excellent treatment in the hands of Darlinghurst Theatre Company certainly gives us food for thought, particularly against the backdrop of lock-out laws, one-punch murders and rising domestic violence. This is an insightful portrayal of men trying to come to terms with their socially-derived captivity.

Savages defies classification – it is funny, poetic, and political. The boys’ cheeky banter draws many laughs, but there is also something menacing unfolding here. An underlying threat that you just can’t shake. The comedy brings us back from the brink a number of times, but the jokes can only hold out so long…

Details
Viewed: 6 April 2016
Venue: Eternity Playhouse, Darlinghurst
Author: Patricial Cornelius
Director: Tim Roseman
Production Company: Darlinghurst Theatre Company

First published on The AU Review: http://arts.theaureview.com/reviews/theatre-review-savages-darlinghurst-theatre-company-eternity-playhouse/

Challenge Accepted

In one of my regular ‘inspiration sessions’ (translation – sitting in a coffee shop catching up on my online reading) I came across an excellent commentary on the state of arts criticism in Australia. In CringeFestival, published in Kill Your Darlings’ online theatre and performing arts column, Jane Howard bemoans the proliferation of unpaid reviewers that clog our media, observing that few writers are actually fulfilling the brief of ‘critic’.

In summary, Howard believes that the current practice of paying reviewers in tickets alone has lowered the standard of our critical culture. Reviews have become less a platform for unpacking performances and prompting deep pondering, and more a tool for promoters to pimp their productions. Potentially problematic – yes indeed.

A similar view was articulated by Andrew Stafford in his blog (and later as a column for Mumbrella) back in November 2013. A music journalist of 20 years, Stafford confided in his post that he had turned down a role as music writer for The Daily Review, despite his adoration of the site’s parent publication, Crikey. Why this decision? The monetary compensation offered for the position was zero.

Stafford argued, and quite rightly I would suggest, that a journalist of his experience and renown should be appropriately remunerated for his skills. He would bring eyeballs and a level of quality to the then fledgling online magazine; surely these would be things The Daily Review would consider worth paying for? Apparently not.

Aside from the obvious reason (needing to put food on his table), Stafford said he felt that working for free would make him ‘complicit in undermining’ the careers of his peers and colleagues. He felt that media outlets which purport to provide quality content should be able to afford to pay the people best qualified to do the job.

I myself am operating on the ‘will work for tickets’ model right now. Having eschewed the corporate nine-to-five for an as yet to be determined career in the writing field, I naturally looked to write about what I know. And as a graduate of theatre studies from QUT, and a some-time amateur actor, I thought reviewing theatre could be a good first step.

Once I started digging, I uncovered numerous online publications who were prepared to ‘pay’ me to publish my critical thoughts. I have signed-up to write for a few of these sites, and so far have been treated to a number of free nights out. But in much the same way as I did when I worked as a finance trade journalist receiving regular invitations to media briefings in five-star restaurants, I have realised that such invitations have the potential to cost me my integrity. We’ll give you a five course meal with matching wines, provided you write up our latest product. Or, we’ll give you and your partner a free ticket to opening night, provided you say how fabulous we are. Power corrupts, and all that.

However, I would like to think that within this new world, where everyone literally can be a critic, those who genuinely have something to say will rise to the top. We pick and choose who to follow on Twitter, because we are entertained and interested by what they have to say (in a few short characters no less). We can select our favourite news topics or publications on Flipboard. And we subscribe to bloggers whose words resonate through the noise of our daily lives. You can build your own audience – provided you know who that audience is.

As any good marketer (content or otherwise) will tell you, there’s no point shouting your story from the roof-top if your target audience resides in an underground tunnel. In the same way, not everyone wants to read an effuse opinion piece with obscure 1940s pop culture references which challenges their very hipster existence; some people just want to know whether something is worth the price of admission.

I do think there is an audience for the kind of critical commentary for which Howard laments. Kill Your Darlings is one rallying point. The Australian Book Review is another. But I also think that those of us who are working for nix need to do our bit too. We need to push ourselves harder, polish and edit our own work. Write often, sure, but write well. Engage with other commentators, share their thoughts, even (or especially) if they differ from yours. Build your own audience, one which truly represents the people you want to speak to. And spread the critical word.

Thank you Ms Howard – challenge accepted.

What's Wrong With Playing it Safe?

“He says his aim is poetry. One does not aim at poetry with pistols. At poets, perhaps...” 

One of the things that I often notice when watching a theatrical comedy is that there is always one actor who doesn’t quite get it. Timing is, as they say, everything, and there are some actors who can’t quite pick-up the rhythm. But I am delighted to report that this was not the case in STC’s latest production of Tom Stoppard’s Arcadia.

Not only did every single cast member held their own in the comedy stakes, they also managed to convincingly deliver both the poetry and convoluted mathematical concepts that riddle the script. Even Wil McDonald as Gus Coverly and Augustus Cloverly, who spent the majority of the show in silence, drew many the snicker and giggle. 

The standouts (because there are always one or two) were Ryan Corr, who delivered insult after insult with genuine relish (particularly as they flew over the heads of their intended) and Michael Sheasby, who’s portrayal of Valentine Cloverly was delightfully geeky. He handled the complex theoretical monologues with ease, and he evoked in this reviewer a genuine desire to run up and just give him a big hug.

Julie Lynch deserves an award for her beautiful costumes – it’s lovely to see period clothing in its rightful place for a change. Michael Scott-Mitchell’s set design received criticism from some because of the extremely long table which extended over the majority of the stage. However, I think the table worked to create a strong contrast between the arm’s length nature of male-female relationships in the 1800s and the cosy familiarity within which we engage with one another today. I also think he deserves credit for Plautus/Lightening, the tortoise who all but steals the show.

This was a well-produced, well-cast, well-designed show. You would think that should make an audience happy – particularly when the play is a comedy – but I couldn’t help but feel that last Wednesday night’s audience was a little faint with their applause. In the same vein as a Ron Howard film, you can’t really fault it, but it’s not something you’ll be talking about forever and a day. Maybe that’s a fault of the script, which effectively predicts the demise of the world as we know it (a bit of a downer), or maybe the Sydney theatre-going public have grown too used to controversial, out-there design and incomprehensible directorial choices. Whatever the reason, I felt alone in my admiration of the experience. Perhaps I just appreciate the pleasant change when a director plays by the book, literally.

I do have one criticism though – how come the tortoise didn’t get a bow?

Details
Viewed: 9 March 2016
Venue: Drama Theatre, Sydney Opera House
Author: Tom Stoppard
Director: Richard Cottrell
Production Company: STC

Too Giant an Undertaking

Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely

A complex, wordy play about the inner machinations of the Australian Labor Party in the early 80s may seem like a risky choice for the first outing of new Belvoir Artistic Director, Eamon Flack, and it is a risk that fails to pay off.

Written by Australia’s Stephen Sewell, The Blind Giant is Dancing follows Allen Fitzgerald, an ambitious member of the ALP who is plotting to overthrow the capitalist right of the party and lead Australia into a brave new democratic socialist world. All the while, Allen is grappling with a failing marriage to a Jewish feminist who has taken a female lover (from the Liberal party) and a staunchly Catholic father who has worked the mines all his life. Who’s confused already?

Adding to the minefield that is the premise, the play jumps between scenes with increasing pace, to the point where some of the scenes in the second act are a mere two lines long. Despite this, the run time of the whole shermozzle is over three hours.

Faced with these challenges, Flack and the Belvoir team have given us a production that tries hard but fails to deliver a clear message.

Set Designer, Dale Ferguson, has presented us with an interesting concept, working closely with Lighting Designer, Verity Hampson, to place a floor-to-ceiling LED light wall centre stage, leaving the remainder of Belvoir’s black box stage empty. Unlit, the wall provides a transparent backdrop for the main scenes, behind which can be seen the upcoming actors. When alight, the wall replicates the sun drenched high-rise windows of Sydney’s CBD. The device is also used to project the setting at the start of each scene (useful given there is very little else to differentiate the surroundings). Some audience members may find the blinding they receive when the rig is fully lit a bit hard to take, but on the whole it’s not a bad design effort.

Set changes (such as they are) are managed by the actors in what is becoming a bit of a theatrical trend. But I do worry that some of the props the performers are required to carry on and off stage are a trifle unwieldy and there may be some mishaps during the run.

Speaking of the performers, Dan Spielman does well as Allen but could have benefited from a greater sense of purpose. The character has so much backstory that it would be hard for any actor to wrangle it all into their performance, but Spielman doesn’t quite hit the mark. There’s a lot of dialogue delivered but not so much deeper meaning.

Yael Stone as Allen’s wife, Louise, is one of the most convincing characters, and there is definite chemistry between the two (probably because they’re married in real life). The same can’t be said for Zahra Newman who plays Allen’s potential love interest, journalist Rose Draper. Rose speaks in riddles and is deliberately cagey about just what she’s doing here (on stage, in the political mix, flirting with Allen). Unfortunately, Newman’s performance lacks conviction – I’m not sure she knows what Rose is trying to say either.

The strongest performance comes from Geoff Morrell, whose portrayal of Allen’s political target, Michael Wells, is delightfully realistic. His accent is delightfully ocker but he delivers his lines with a subtle sense of power (something which Julia Gillard never quite managed).

To really enjoy this play you need more than a passing understanding of the concepts of socialism, Marxism, capitalism and communism. Sewell is also student of Australian politics, and the script goes into tremendous detail about the operations and direction of the ALP in the 1980s, which for my dad would no doubt be fascinating, since he was involved in the ALP himself at that time. Sadly most of us are not so familiar with party politics, and this makes for a confusing night out.

The other story here is about what it means to be a person – what gives us our identity and how we represent ourselves to others. What does it mean to be a wife? A Catholic? A socialist? A lover? This is a more universally appealing thread, but it gets lost under the weight of the narrative. A fault of the play, sure, but if a decision was made by the creatives to present this as the key message the production may have resonated more strongly. To this end, the scenes between Allen and Louise are a distraction, despite Stone’s performance. Even the climactic moments, which call into question family loyalty and cultural morality, fail to deliver a punch.

This production lacks a clear identity. In the hands of a different director, the play may deliver a powerful message, but Flack seems to have tried too hard to follow each of Sewell’s threads, leaving the audience to puzzle through just what it all means. The play clearly has a special place in his heart, however, and he should be commended for attempting such a tricky piece on his first outing.

Details
Viewed: 16 February 2016 (Preview)
Venue: Belvoir Upstairs Theatre, Surry Hills
Author: Stephen Sewell
Director: Eamon Flack
Production Company: Belvoir

The Secret River Second Time Around

This play does more to 'close the gap' than any Government report ever could

It’s not very often that you have the opportunity to attend a theatrical production that you know is going to be great – actors, directors and scripts can often promise much but significantly under-deliver. However, as I had seen the original season of STC’s The Secret River I knew that the repeat run would make for a brilliant night out. Having previously subjected my bestie to an absolutely traumatic previous theatre experience (Belvoir’s Wizard of Oz), I couldn’t wait to show her that theatre can be both art and entertainment.

The Secret River follows William Thornhill, a London thief transported to New South Wales in the early 1800s. Earning his freedom, Thornhill settles himself and his young family on what he believes to be unclaimed land on the edge of the Hawkesbury River. But the land is already inhabited by the Dharug people. What unfolds is a compelling and at times confronting story that has been played out hundreds of times in our nation’s history.

But it is the creative team who make this production truly memorable. In the same way that Julie Taymor transfigured the cartoon world of Simba in her production of The Lion King, Director, Neil Armfield, and his designers (Set Designer Stephen Curtis, Lighting Designer Mark Howett and Sound Designer Steve Francis) have given us a staging that is both practical and brilliant. The backdrop is at once a towering escarpment and an ancient gum, its branches stretching out of sight. Smouldering sticks dragged over the sandstone-coloured floor give us territories and boundaries, easily erased by childish play. Lighting transports us from river to bank, and the sounds of the bush are recreated by mouth, bucket and spade. This is theatrical play at its best.

Listing the production highlights to my friend – the brilliantly clever design elements, the interweaving musical soundtrack, and the profound performances – I saw her face slowly fall. She politely declined my invitation.

What I failed to understand in my enthusiasm for the production is that I am white. My ancestors were free settlers who built the foundations of what is now Hobart. Sure, there may be some political prisoners in my distant, Irish past, but on the whole, my family have had it pretty good. My friend, however, is descended from the Wiradjuri people, the largest Indigenous Nation within New South Wales. For her, the story of Australian colonisation is not entertainment. It triggers an anger and sorrow that I cannot adequately describe, something she was not keen on bringing to the surface.

Armfield recalls a similar encounter in his program notes, describing how Indigenous actress Ursula Yovich knocked him back twice when he asked her to join the original production. In a letter to Armfield, Yovich wrote:

“The play brings up a lot of hurt. We all know the history, what comes next. The hurt comes from the knowledge that the actions portrayed at the end of the play (although so very long ago) have had a huge domino effect, even to this day… The trauma is so deep that we believe our own worthlessness…”

Yovich did eventually relent and her performance in the first run of this play was superb. One of the reasons behind her change of heart appears to have been the sensitivity she knew Armfield and his team would bring to the production.

The strongest example of this empathetic hand is the voice that playwright Andrew Bovell has given to the Dharug people. In the original and critically acclaimed novel by Kate Grenville, from which the story is taken, the Indigenous people are kept at arm’s length from the reader. We see the events almost entirely through the eyes of Thornhill; a victim of circumstance and class who now has a chance to obtain the status and respect he covets.

In Bovell’s script, the Dharug characters are not only named, but given prominence. They open the play, letting us eavesdrop on a casual fireside conversation. They appear again at regular intervals, giving us some insight as to how they interact with the land and these strangers who have come to claim it. Through these vignettes we see that they are not so different from the whites.

We also see a vision of what could have been, of partnership and shared knowledge, depicted through the actions of the youngest Thornhill, Dick (Toby Challenor/Heath Jelovic), and the ‘first’ river settler, Blackwood (Colin Moody). Dick has yet to be indoctrinated into the world of savages and gentlemen; his innocent, child’s eyes see people who know the secrets of the land and how to work it to their advantage. Blackwood declares that his Indigenous partner is more of a wife to him than his first ever was, and suggests that Thornhill learn the principle of ‘give a little, take a little’.

But this is not a story of triumph over the wilds of the land – this is a war for territory between two tribes and we already know who will be victorious. It is easy to sit back in judgement of these early settlers and criticise their actions, but the beauty of this production is the mirror it holds up to its audience. In Thornhill (played with strength and subtlety by Nathanial Dean) we see how easily a man’s morality can shift when he has something to believe in and defend. Can any of us really say we would have acted differently? More importantly, how little of this story do we actually know?

I hope that this production triggers something in its audience – a guilt, and a profound sense of inadequacy. We should know more about these first people. We should understand their language without the need for surtitles (which I am delighted to report the production does not resort to). We should acknowledge the wrongs our forefathers committed, no matter how innocent their motives. We should be teaching this history in schools. We should be honouring Indigenous stories in our museums and galleries.

I thank Armfield and the STC for taking Thornhill’s story to another level, and my friend for helping me see it through different eyes, which at the conclusion of the play were this time filled with tears. 

Details
Viewed: 4 February 2016
Venue: Roslyn Packer Theatre, Walsh Bay
Author: Kate Grenville
Adapted by: Andrew Bovell
Director: Neil Armfield
Production Company: Sydney Theatre Company

Epic Aussie Tale Challenges Notion of Otherness

I hope you had your weetbix this morning!

I’m sure when set designer David Fleischer pitched his concept for the Sydney Theatre Company’s production of The Golden Age he could not have helped but throw in a pun (or two) about actors getting their hands dirty. Why? Because almost the entire stage used to present this revival production of a Louis Nowra classic was taken up with a great big pile of dirt. Simplistic in concept, the design actually worked wonders for a play which traverses years and continents (and throws a little Greek tragedy in there for good measure).

When Nowra wrote the script, he likely envisaged set changes occurring behind the proscenium curtain. With no such luxury in the Wharf 1 theatre, Fleischer and Director Kip Williams instead employed the actors to set and remove a small array of props to denote each required location. Intriguingly, the prop carriers did not merely walk on and off stage in semi-darkness, hoping to go largely unnoticed by the audience. Instead, each scene change was carried out as a purposeful action; the branches representing the Tasmanian wilderness swayed gently in an imaginary breeze, the fence posts surrounding the sanatorium were driven violently into the dirt. This direction helped to maintain the pace and momentum of what is a very long and challenging work.

It is not just the staging that kept this production afloat, however, as all the cast members did an admirable job of keeping up their energy and commitment. You see, this play is an epic. Beginning in Hobart in the late 1930s, we follow two young men (played by Remy Hii and the supremely talented Brandon McClelland) into the West-Tasmanian wilderness, where they happen upon a small collection of motley Europeans who appear to have abandoned the trappings of modern society. The tribe has their own language - an odd mix of Scottish, Irish and Cockney English – and mythology.

Driven by curiosity (and unlikely love) the youths bring the strangers back to ‘civilisation’, and what follows is an exploration of insanity, the construct of war and what it means to be Australian. Did I mention this was an epic?!

McClelland does a bang-up job as the play’s leading man, effectively connecting past and present. But it is the characters of Ayre (Sarah Peirse) and Betsheb (Rarriwuy Hick) that are by far the most challenging in this work, not least because most of their dialogue is delivered in the tribe’s provocative and nearly-nonsensical language. The complexity of these Shakesperean-like roles was no doubt a joy to master, and Hick’s performance, in particular, had the audience revolted and enamoured in equal measure.

A special mention also goes to Ursula Yovich, who brilliantly inhabited the physicality of Elizabeth Archer (a genteel woman accustomed to dinner parties and theatrical fundraisers). Her mannerisms so perfectly mirrored those of my late grandmother (herself the perfect society hostess) that I was convinced they must have met.

Composer/Sound Designer, Max Lyandvert, brought a cinematic quality to the soundscape, scoring much of the play and Damien Cooper’s lighting design was subtle but played a strong narrative role.

Overall, Williams has done well to convey a very convoluted, and perhaps overlong, story. I questioned the need for the nudity (of which the audience was forewarned, along with the smoke effects and gunshots) but felt overall the play was in good hands. In his program notes, Williams said he was particularly conscious of how the play speaks to Australia’s national identity. Attended by this reviewer a few days out from Australia Day it was not hard to uncover this deeper meaning. Perhaps a concept further challenged by the casting of Indigenous actors in traditional ‘white’ roles.

But I believe the play speaks more strongly to the issue of mental illness and whether ‘crazy’ also means ‘dangerous’. With the story told against the backdrop of World War II, you are pushed unrelentingly towards the notion that people who do not operate according to society’s conventions are inferior to others. Many may not be aware that, during his reign, Hitler not only culled thousands of Jews, but also the mentally ill, deformed and homosexual. Today, we continue to persecute the non-conformists, through our laws, service funding and our attitudes. And we’re still participating in ugly wars in foreign lands, sacrificing our young in the name of protecting a nation and its shared ideals – whatever they may be.

Thought provoking and challenging, I congratulate the STC for taking on such an epic. It won’t be for everyone – but ironically doesn’t this play prove that there is no ‘everyone’?