Venue: Meraki Arts Bar (Darlinghurst NSW), Jul 20 – Aug 5, 2023
Playwright: Philip Ridley
Director: Victor Kalka
Cast: Jane Angharad, James Hartley, James Smithers, Harry Winsome
Images by Clare Hawley
Theatre review
Haley and Presley are siblings who lock themselves up at home all day, indulging in chocolate and drugs, as they tell each other endless tall tales to pass the time. When Cosmo appears quite unexpectedly, we find the sanctuary suddenly perilous, as the stranger threatens to disrupt the household’s long-standing equilibrium. The many anecdotes shared by characters in Philip Ridley’s Pitchfork Disney are replete with fear and darkness, reflecting an anxious pessimism that no doubt was present during the writing process, although an ironic humour is certainly involved as well, in a bizarre work that proves to be as quirky as it is morbid.
The production is full of intrigue, with director Victor Kalka exploring the text’s curious nature to deliver, an experience memorable for its fascinating experimentations with the abstract. Kalka’s set design is noteworthy for its finesse and believability, and some of his costume pieces are wonderfully outlandish, if somewhat paradoxical for a show concerned with decay and dilapidation. Lights by Jasmin Borsovszky are effective in moments of heightened drama, but can sometimes be too abrupt in the rendering of an ambitious vision.
In the role of Presley is the marvellous James Smithers, whose brilliant performance as a man in a state of arrested development, keeps us on edge for the entirety. His work is beautifully measured, courageous and intelligent, and although seeming to be in total control for the whole 90 minutes, it is Smithers’ capacity for vulnerability that provides this staging its truest artistic merit. Harry Winsome plays Cosmo with commendable vigour, and along with Jane Angharad’s buoyancy as Haley, they create enjoyable dimensions for Pitchfork Disney that are commensurate with the play’s eccentric spirit. James Hartley too is amusingly kooky, when he appears late in the piece as the mysterious Pitchfork.
Writing can be an isolating exercise. For some, to hide from the real world is to delve into the greatest creativity, and to unearth the deepest secrets one can harbour. There is no question, that the outside is full of terror and dread, and one can easily be tempted to retreat into the innermost spaces for refuge, perhaps as a gesture of surrender, or maybe as an attempt for finding the greatest incontrovertible truths. To go inside is to access the most precious of human experience, but to remained closed off from the big scary world, is the worst a person can do.