Review: The Boat People (Rock Surfers Theatre Company / The Hayloft Project)

hayloftVenue: Bondi Pavilion Theatre (Bondi NSW), May 29 – Jun 21, 2014
Playwright: Benedict Hardie
Director: Benedict Hardie
Actors: Susie Youssef / William Erimya / Emily Rose Brennan / Luke Joseph Ryan
Image by Zakarij Kaczmarek

Theatre review
One of the exciting facets of theatre is the way it is able to deal with social issues. The stage provides a membrane of safety, where artists can venture into dangerous territory, and say things that are controversial, or even, fictional. In this unique space of expression, the audience is able to examine ideas with their own free will, and perhaps have opinions swayed, or maybe come to new realisations about the world.

Benedict Hardie’s The Boat People is a script that we desperately need. It tackles subjects that are prominent in news and politics, but approaches it from an artistic perspective. What results is a discussion about themes that we care passionately about, but unpacked in an unconventional way. Its story and characters present to us a refreshing way at looking at Australia’s obsession with asylum seekers and our ever-changing stance on immigration policies. It is neither journalistic reportage nor realistic documentary. It is imaginative, and in its “what ifs”, we are able to observe and judge our personal responses to some of the ideas brought up by the work. Hardie’s writing is sardonic and sophisticated. There are surprises everywhere, and its characters connect deeply with the way we look at ourselves today. Hardie’s direction however, is slightly lacking. The pace of the piece misses a certain fluidity. There are many gear changes that occur from constant shifts in comic tone, which is conceptually exciting, but experientially, a little awkward. Our emotions and attention are prevented from becoming more deeply invested, which might be intellectually interesting, but in reality, quite frustrating. We like the characters and want to feel more for them.

Susie Youssef’s performance as Sarah is extraordinarily centred and strong. Playing a character that is unable to anchor herself morally, Youssef is surprisingly authentic. She presents a truth that we relate to, one that appeals to our humanity; the part of us that lives in shades of grey, and where life forces us to move within these shades, refusing to let us hold on to black or white regardless of our desire for certainty and convenient truths. The level of conviction in Youssef’s work is impressive. The confidence she brings to a role that is characterised by its power and wealth is very persuasive indeed.

Karl is played by William Erimya, who is memorable for his immense affability. Karl is absolutely adorable, and Erimya’s performance is hilarious, but his final scene attempts to shock, only to leave us bewildered and unconvinced. Melanie is another role who goes through a confusing transition, but Emily Rose Brennan’s performance is engaging and enjoyable. Brennan’s work is precise, with an exquisite polish, and she brings an intense energy that is deceptively subtle. Luke Joseph Ryan is the live wire of the group. He is outlandish, buoyant and effervescent, giving us a lot of silliness that contrasts effectively with the gravity of the work. He does seem to be slightly detached from the ensemble who are comparatively subdued, but we do catch glimpses of great chemistry when situations are conducive.

The production is designed intelligently and efficiently. Michael Hankin’s set is simple but arresting. His construction of “windows” is a stroke of genius. Sound designer and composer Benny Davis makes us laugh with pop music made “ethnic”. Costumes by Elizabeth Gadsby helps tell the story well, and her work for Karl and Melanie are particularly attractive but Sarah’s stature requires further finesse.

The complexity of The Boat People is unapologetic and essential. Hardie’s writing resists simplification, so we are forced to grapple with the difficulty of issues at hand. Art is not always about truths, but this show hits the nail on the head. The accuracy at which it portrays contemporary Australian beliefs is staggering, and the results are not always easy to digest. Theatre must not always be a walk in the park, and on this occasion, the ride is bumpy, for good and bad.

www.rocksurfers.org | www.hayloftproject.com

Review: Love Song (Gamut Theatre Co)

gamut1Venue: TAP Gallery (Darlinghurst NSW), Jun 11 – 22, 2014
Writer: John Kolvenbach
Director: Glen Hamilton
Cast: Melinda Hyde, Ford Sarhan, Ben Scales, Romney Stanton
Image by Farland Photography

Theatre review
John Kolvenbach’s Love Song is beautifully written. Witty and thoughtful lines, colourful characters, imaginative scenarios with humour and poignancy, and surprising plot trajectories, all make for a play that is irresistibly charming, and rich with potential for creative interpretation. Kolvenbach’s script about relationships and eccentricity is crafted with intelligence. It has a refreshing originality, but it also bears a universality that ensures a wide appeal.

Direction by Glen Hamilton is elegant but fairly subdued. There is some attention placed on lighting effects, especially during scene transitions, but Hamilton focuses almost entirely on working with his actors to form interesting and dynamic personalities. The four main characters are distinct and memorable, each with their own rhythms and quirks. Ford Sarhan plays Beane, the young protagonist, and he is completely delightful. Sarhan is charismatic, understated, and tremendously funny. His comic timing is a highlight of the production, often delivering big gleeful laughs at unsuspecting moments. Ben Scales’ work as Harry is sensitively considered yet playful. He has a thorough connection with the text, and his articulation of the writer’s ideas is clear and powerful. This is a cast with good presence and buoyant energy, and their performances have created a show that is entertaining and consistently engaging.

Love Song does talk a little about romance, but that is not the whole of its message. It is interested in the way people’s lives are nourished through relationships, and through love. The concept of love is explored at depth. We watch how it affects us comprehensively, and how we transform in its presence. Most significantly, we learn how it (love) is essential for life to flourish, no matter what form it may take, and no matter how much effort is required for it to materialise.

gamuttheatreco.wordpress.com

Review: Winter (Persophia / The Old 505 Theatre)

winter2Venue: Old 505 Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Jun 7 – 22, 2014
Playwright: Jon Fosse
Director: Jonathan Wald
Cast: Susie Lindeman, Berynn Schwerdt

Theatre review
Extramarital affairs remain a taboo subject in the twenty-first century. Marriage is still considered sanctimonious, and of course betrayal in any relationship will never be greeted with nonchalance. Taboos are by nature difficult to discuss, and language often escapes those who transgress. When one is acting against better judgement, explanations struggle to find logic, and words fail. In the space of impulse and emotion, expression is not always best achieved through speech.

Jon Fosse’s Winter demonstrates those inadequacies in the theatre, with a script that uses words to propel action, and to evoke sentiments, but not to describe motives or to divulge feelings. The nameless characters, a woman and a man, speak in incomplete sentences, and with repetitive words that reveal little. Under Jonathan Wald’s direction, the play is surprisingly digestible. A clear sense of narrative is achieved in spite of the text’s poetic style. Assisted by Stephen Colyer’s expertise as a movement choreographer and an accomplished design team, the dynamic and inventive use of space creates an experience that is visually exciting and charged with sensuality.

Susie Lindeman’s performance is suitably quirky, creating a refreshing character with an intriguing allure. Qualities of desperation and desire are beautifully conveyed. Lindeman introduces a vulnerability that gives the story complexity, and keeps us engaged. Berynn Schwerdt’s presence is genuine and weighty. His style is minimal but effective, which adds an air of sophistication to the production. The actor seeks to build meaning into his character’s silences, with quite powerful results.

Winter makes us see and hear from an alternate perspective. It experiments with the way meanings are formed from all that occurs on stage. It is concerned with convention, and the lack of it, in relation to how our senses and minds function. This is not an emotional work, but it does not leave you cold. It is more about the nature of art than it is about relationships and illicit affairs, and fortunately, art can sometimes be more seductive than the prospect of a secret rendezvous in a fancy hotel room.

www.venue505.com/theatre

Review: Why Torture Is Wrong, And The People Who Love Them (New Theatre)

newtheatreVenue: New Theatre (Newtown NSW), Jun 3 – 28, 2014
Playwright: Christopher Durang
Director: Melita Rowston
Actors: Peter Astridge, Romy Bartz, Ryan Gibson, Terry Karabelas, Alice Livingstone, Ainslie McGlynn, Annie Schofield
Photograph © Bob Seary

Theatre review
With a title as provocative and powerful as this, the play’s central concept hangs over everything that unfolds. We evaluate every situation, trying to decide what our personal definitions of “torture” might be, in relation to the statements that the writer makes. It is not a passive experience, sitting in the darkness of this theatre. The script seeks to involve and implicate us in its world. We look at its characters and wonder how we fit in, or indeed how the stories fit into our lives.

The production however, struggles to connect with us. The players are in their own world, always at a distance, and while there is a consistent semblance of poignancy and performances are all polished and precise, there is an uncomfortable inaccessibility that makes engagement difficult. Melita Rowston’s direction is wonderfully heightened and outlandish, but its strict structure seems to restrict her actors from playing with audience reactions and from using our presence as extensively as a comedy of this nature should. Nevertheless, Rowston’s work is suitably subversive in vision, and the courage at which she tackles the play’s difficult subjects is noteworthy.

Set design by Sasha Perri and Clarisse Ambroselli is imaginative and efficient. The action takes place in almost ten different places, and great lengths are taken to make every setting convincing and evocative. The play goes through many scene changes, and each transition is managed with elegance. From a production values perspective, the show scores very well.

Standouts in the cast include Peter Astridge, who plays Leonard, an extreme right winger of the nutty and violent variety. Astridge’s confident absurdity is refreshing and seductive. The caricatured roles are not written with much range or variance, but Astridge manages to find nuances to create a sense of dimension and unpredictability. Romy Bartz as Hildegarde plays up to the wildness in Christopher Durang’s comedy and delivers several big laughs. There are no weak performances in the show, and all roles are cast well. The script seems to require its players to portray the duality of character and actor, and although some effort is put into creating a sense of “metatheatricality”, a more conventional approach is usually chosen. Immersed within their roles, they miss opportunities for a more post-modern style of commentary on the situations being depicted.

A play that examines our moral compasses with torture and terror, should never leave us cool, or cosy. Its elements of controversy and iconoclasm should take precedence, and their disruptive nature should spawn discomfort, or disquiet. The play shows itself thinking things through; it is concerned with the use of intelligence, and it wishes to be challenging. The edge of the envelope can be pushed further.

www.newtheatre.org.au

Review: Beauty! Glamour! Fame! (The Cafe Debris Company / Merrill Pye Productions)

brentthorpe

Venue: The Imperial Hotel (Erskineville NSW), Thursdays Jun 5 – Jul 3, 2014
Playwright: Brent Thorpe
Director: Brent Thorpe
Cast: Brent Thorpe, Zan Cross
Image by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
Saying that Brenda Trollope is larger than life is an understatement. She is rambunctious to the extreme and fervently demented, with a penchant for sharing too much, and at too much detail. She is a creation of Brent Thorpe, who is a performer with a keen sense of subversive humour, and an even keener urge to entertain.

In Beauty! Glamour! Fame!, Trollope addresses her audience directly, divulging tales of debauchery, and enacting outrageous highlights from her colourful existence. References to Australian culture of the last forty years abound. There is no question that the lady has been around the block more than once or twice. Thorpe’s performance is energetic and frenzied, owing more to vaudeville than to Stanislavski. His approach focuses on timing and presence, without letting the idea of emotional truth get in the way of a good tall tale. There is one scene, however, where Thorpe speaks on a “talkback radio” program as a secondary character Deirdre Flick, and an authenticity in his convictions shines through. In the space of several minutes, he encapsulates all that is disturbing about Australian media and politics today. Deirdre needs her own show.

Zac Cross plays various male characters, providing sturdy support as the reliable sidekick. Thorpe’s nerves can at times be apparent, but Cross seems to take everything in his stride. They are an odd coupling, but nothing in the show is averse to strangeness. It is an eccentric work about an eccentric mind. Trollope is not interested in the deep and meaningful, but she enjoys herself. She does not invest in poignancy, but pulls out all the stops for laughter. There may not be very much love or compassion here, but Trollope’s valour is certainly a thing to behold.

www.theimperialhotel.com.au

Review: Brothers Wreck (Belvoir St Theatre)

belvoir

Venue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), May 24 – Jun 22, 2014
Playwright: Jada Alberts
Director: Leah Purcell
Actors: Cramer Cain, Lisa Flanagan, Rarriwuy Hick, Hunter Page-Lochard, Bjorn Stewart
Image by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
Jada Alberts’ play is about family, poverty and depression. It is also a coming-of-age story about masculinity in Australia’s Northern Territory. Alberts’ characters are lively and refreshing, with a vernacular that is rarely heard on our stages, yet it accurately reflects the way many of us speak in daily lives. The play has a charming realism. It makes the familiar seem fascinating, and regular people become interesting.

Lisa Flanagan plays Petra, a vibrant woman of substance. Flanagan’s presence is immediate and robust, and she plays her role with great precision and versatility. Her sharply confident comic timing introduces an excellent levity, and her tears leave a lasting impression. The clear highlight of the show however, is Hunter Page-Lochard’s performance as lead character Ruben. Ruben is an underprivileged young man receiving psychotherapy treatment after becoming embroiled in a traumatic event. Unable to acknowledge and verbalise his emotions, Ruben’s grief manifests in destructive behaviour, resulting in disharmony at home and discord with local authorities. Page-Lochard inhabits his character to astonishing authenticity. His use of voice, movement and facial expressions present a level of believability that is deeply impressive, and powerfully captivating . There is also a sense of drama and tension in his work that demonstrate a natural propensity for the actor to entertain and connect. Page-Lochard is interested in portraying something truthful, but is also mindful of showmanship. To find that fabulous combination in a young indigenous actor is incredibly exciting.

Direction by Leah Purcell places emphasis on the quality of performances. There is an obvious purity and sincerity in the actors’ work, and the ensemble chemistry provides a beautiful closeness to the family being depicted on stage. Purcell, like Alberts, sensitively crafts an effective realism, but the play lacks a certain theatricality to elevate it from our everyday mundanity. The script requires greater tension and suspense, and both director and playwright could experiment with more imaginative devices to engage us more creatively. A great deal of depth is established in the play’s characters and relationships, but a more adventurous approach to telling their stories would give them more dimension and dynamism.

It is important that stories like Brothers Wreck are told. We need to learn about the underclasses and they must always be given a platform to represent their perspectives, and to develop their artistry. Young men like Ruben are damaged not by nature, but by our sociopolitical dysfunctions. It is a most pressing priority for our nation, that their voices be found, and be emboldened.

www.belvoir.com.au

Review: Mojo (Sydney Theatre Company)

mojoVenue: Wharf 1 Sydney Theatre Company (Walsh Bay NSW), May 17 – Jul 5, 2014
Playwright: Jez Butterworth
Director: Iain Sinclair
Cast: Tony Martin, Lindsay Farris, Eamon Farren, Ben O’Toole, Josh McConville
Images by Brett Boardman

Theatre review (originally published at auditoriummag.com)
When boys grow up and begin to find their feet in the adult world as men of stature, the acquisition of masculinity often becomes critically important. The characters in Jez Butterworth’s Mojo seem to spend all their waking moments satisfying that overwhelming and insatiable need to be seen and treated as men of worth, and in the London underground gangland of the late 1950s, this involves unthinkable violence, and outrageous criminality. Butterworth’s daring and extravagantly brutal 1995 script illustrates a world of sex, drugs and rock and roll, where sons are raped, fathers are murdered, and honour is maleficently displaced.

Butterworth’s work starts up in high gear. He gets to the mayhem quickly without setting up thorough introductions for its story. There is a disorientation that occurs in the beginning, and the viewer is required to be alert, in order to decipher manic events while keeping up with the fantastically rich dialogue. Iain Sinclair’s direction in the initial scenes emphasises speed and energy, which can be a challenge for the plot, but a hyper-reality is firmly established for the play’s time and space. We are transported to a past that fits our imagination in part, but also controversial. The play’s rampant drug taking and extreme profanity is a far cry from the innocence of Grease, and the sophistication of Orson Welles’ Touch Of Evil. Sinclair’s work owes more to David Lynch’s 1986 masterpiece Blue Velvet in its handling of ultraviolence and surreal personalities. An air of menace sets in quickly and the pressure it exerts is unrelenting. The production has a magnetic quality in spite of its obscure otherness. It plays like a riddle, glutted with suspense and eccentricity, and we are seduced at every step, desperate to peek around every impending corner.

Indeed, the production succeeds as a piece of narrative-driven entertainment. It is engrossing, amusing and thrilling, with a good amount of shock value thrown in for a sense of gangster authenticity that also gives the show a cool edge. Its themes are not immediately evident, but they resonate afterward. The show does not ask questions directly, but it certainly encourages us to question what had been seen. Sinclair might be comfortable with dramatics that strike like a sledgehammer, but his ability to probe our conscience about bigger issues is as accomplished as it is subtle.

Also displaying excellence is Sinclair’s design team. Visual aspects, including lighting, costumes and sets are adventurously creative and intelligent. Nicholas Rayment’s lights are exhaustively explored, fulfilling functional and aesthetic requirements equally brilliantly. There are moments of beauty that look to be inspired by film noir, and also memorable incidences of dread that are as sinister as a dank lane way in any cosmopolitan city at 3am. Pip Runciman’s set design ingeniously creates spaces out of the usually nondescript Wharf Theatre stage. Levels and doorways are introduced to great effect, and the representation of a nightclub that is attractive in front, and dilapidated behind, is efficiently managed.

Percussionist Alon Ilsar’s work is perhaps the most inventive. He provides accompaniment for most of the scenes, underscoring action by amplifying mood and manufacturing tension. Ilsar’s background sounds are noticeable but not intrusive. When it does come to the fore, it is in the style of experimental jazz, which adds considerable sophistication to the production.

Chemistry in the cast is strong, and mesmerising. The actors are perfectly in tune, and together, they present a microcosm that we find believable in spite of its irrationality, and irresistible even though it is deeply repulsive. Josh McConville is comically frantic as the amphetamine fuelled Potts. His consistent buoyancy gives the play a propelling energy, and prevents the darker sections from becoming too melancholic. There is an enjoyable vibrancy to his performance that keeps an important sense of youth and juvenility in the story. Together with Ben O’Toole’s slightly more innocent Sweet, they portray a couple of young men keen to prove themselves, and to make a mark in their sordid world. Lindsay Farris is enigmatic as Baby, a deranged personality who is central to the play’s interest in maturity and manhood. Farris takes the opportunity to depict his unorthodox character with a liberal measure of offbeat artistic choices, and carves out a fascinating performance that is simultaneously alluring and poignant.

The young men in Mojo are in a state of confusion. We see them exercise the impulse to impress, to emulate, and to succeed, but their role models are severely impaired. Masculinity is highly valued, and in many of our lives, it is through acquiring masculinity that men achieve social acceptance and establish status. The definition of masculinity is then a matter of great concern. Greed, violence, destruction, deception, betrayal and criminality are all inextricably linked with notions of success and fulfillment in Mojo. It is a bleak picture painted of the past, but it seems that the proposition made here is that evolution is illusory, and that boys will be boys.

www.sydneytheatre.com.au

Review: Truth, Beauty And A Picture Of You (Neil Gooding Productions)

hayestheatrecoVenue: Hayes Theatre Co (Potts Point NSW), May 9 – Jun 1, 2014
Book: Alex Broun, Tim Freedman
Music: Tim Freedman
Lyrics: Tim Freedman
Director: Neil Gooding
Musical Director: Andrew Worboys
Cast: Ian Stenlake, Scott Irwin, Erica Lovell, Toby Francis, Ross Chisari

Theatre review
Opera and the stage musical are theatre genres with their own defined song structures. Music is written in a specific way so that the genre works. Tim Freedman’s songs were written not for the stage, but for the world of pop and rock. This “juke box” musical is formed with highlights of his recording career with The Whitlams, and it is debatable how well the selection stands up against compositions tailored for the genre, but there is no question that this premier production of Truth, Beauty And A Picture Of You is effective on many levels.

Freedman and Alex Broun have built around the songs, a story replete with nostalgia and sentimentality, ensuring an emotional experience that audiences expect of the format. Characters and lines are thoughtfully crafted, with scenes between songs sometimes leaving a greater impression than the musical numbers themselves. Neil Gooding’s direction utilises space limitations of the Hayes Theatre to his advantage, evoking wistfully, the grunge of the 1990s and of Newtown, where the action is set, but it should be said that visual design could benefit from being a little more adventurous. The incorporation of live musicians within the space is charming. Gooding allows them to be within sight, but they are never intrusive. Above all, Gooding is a sensitive storyteller. The plot unfolds beautifully, with surprise, laughter and pathos always in the mix. His cast is a strong one, and the conviction of their performances is impressively engrossing.

Ian Stenlake, in the role of Anton, unleashes remarkable charisma. He is not a heroic protagonist, but his confident presence captivates us, and makes us care for all that he goes through. Stenlake’s ability to portray frivolity and an Australian casualness is wonderfully endearing, and his comic timing is a highlight of the show. Scott Irwin plays Charlie, buoyant and optimistic in 1994, but wearied and dejected in 2014. His unbelievable transformation between both eras bears an authenticity that is astonishing. Irwin’s work is subtle but powerful. His depiction of the character’s darker moments are devastating, and it is this gravity that gives the production its soul.

Younger members of the cast might be slightly less accomplished, but their talents are evident. Their vocal abilities in particular are outstanding, and they bring new life to many of the songs. It is unfortunate that the only obvious technical weakness of the production has to do with the way voices are mixed, as the band tends to drown out some of the singing in the bigger numbers. Erica Lovell as Beatrice is delightful and spirited. She is the strongest actor in the young bunch, and turns a somewhat inconsequential character into a memorable one.

Truth, Beauty And A Picture Of You is a moving show about love in its many guises. It tugs at our heartstrings and touches deeply. Like every great musical, it is affecting and entertaining, and it presents an opportunity to showcase some of our greatest talents, in whom we find great joy and sublime inspiration.

www.hayestheatre.com.au | www.goodingproductions.com

Review: Stones In Her Mouth (Mau)

stonesinhermouthVenue: Carriageworks (Eveleigh NSW), May 28 – 31, 2014
Choreography: Lemi Ponifasio
Director: Lemi Ponifasio

Theatre review
There are many juxtapositions in Lemi Ponifasio’s Stones In Her Mouth. The company’s ten performers are all women, interpreting a male director’s vision. The setting is ultra-modern, but much of the content feels firmly rooted in tradition. The women sing songs that seem to be from a folk practice, but their recorded accompaniment is evocative of a futuristic space age soundscape. Imagery is expressed almost entirely in black and white. The deep contrasts are in a constant state of negotiation, searching for harmony and moments of lucidity. The show is often about struggle, but the quality of performance is never in strife. The Mau company is flawless, and the proficiency at which their art is practiced, is staggering.

It is not an exaggeration to say that watching these women in action is awe-inspiring. There is a sense of shamanistic ecstasy to this work. Their voices and physicality are thoroughly honed, to a degree that would be astonishing for any audience. The cohesion and consonance in the ensemble, along with the level of focus they achieve as individuals, play almost like a miracle, unfathomable yet irrefutably real. Their connection with us is a spiritual one, because their language is ritualistic, and their states of trance move us and envelope us so that we too feel a part of the divine.

Stones In Her Mouth is also political. The show begins with the cast in darkness. We hear them but we cannot see them. A bright white light shines instead at us, transfixed in our seats, so that we become the object of fetish, and they in turn dictate the terms at which they are to be viewed. The work makes few explicit statements, but it is impossible to doubt the social significance of gender, ethnicity and colonial imperialism, implicative in each gesture and utterance. Our position as viewer shifts between the arraigned, the aggressor, and ally. The women portray complexity, but they are invariably powerful and dignified.

Ponifasio’s creation is breathtaking and transcendental. His art moves us by virtue of its very presence, and it is in the unique shaping of that presence with his masterful manipulation of time and space, that Ponifasio presents his exceptional artistry.

www.carriageworks.com.au | www.mau.co.nz

Review: Cain And Abel (Belvoir St Theatre / The Rabble)

rabbleVenue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), May 15 – Jun 8, 2014
Creators: Kate Davis, Emma Valente
Director: Emma Valente
Actors: Dana Miltins, Mary Helen Sassman
Image by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
In certain religious texts, Cain and Abel were the first children born of Eve, and Abel was the first human to die. The brothers’ story is one that has undergone much speculation and scrutiny, with Cain’s motives for murder being the key point of contention. In Kate Davis and Emma Valente’s subversive vision, the first children are daughters, so it is a woman who inflicts the first act of violence. They do not investigate the reasons for the infamous slaying, but explore instead, by substituting male for female, meanings and expressions of gender and its social perceptions in relation to human traits and behaviour.

This is a theatrical work that is heavily influenced by fine art. Dialogue is sparse and reliance on words to create and communicate meaning is minimal. Davis and Valente are concerned with arresting the senses and talking viscerally, resulting in a fascinating show that is almost hypnotic in its appeal. Shades of Japanese Noh theatre can be observed in the mesmerising leading ladies, Dana Miltins and Mary Helen Sassman, who work with a grave stillness that has more to do with spirituality and metaphysicality than storytelling. In this Cain And Abel, we are required to read not only with our eyes and ears, but also to engage with its energies and instincts. As an Australian work, it is distinctively original, even within the realm of experimental theatre.

Miltins performs an understated but terrifying aggression. Her Cain is not a femme fatale, as women do not exist as temptresses on this stage. In multiple scenes depicting various imagined manifestations of the fabled carnage, we are forced to witness her sister’s slaughter repeatedly, and to contemplate wildly, our own ideas about the artist’s themes, and beyond. Indeed, the abstraction of the piece resonates strongly, and in the absence of simple narratives, our personal thoughts are taken on adventurous odysseys.

Visual and sound design are not facilitators for something greater, they are integral to the theatrical experience, and executed to perfection. A main feature is an enclosed set made of clear acrylic, that allows for brutality to be contained (along with assorted offending liquids). The creation of distance provides a membrane of psychological protection, so that our minds gain enough detachment and security to indulge in meditations over the blood-letting before us.

Davis and Valente’s work is brave, iconoclastic and important. Religion is deeply rooted in many, and its unchecked authority affects every society. This disruption of the Cain and Abel story is emancipatory, because it encourages an intellectual response that is evolved and compassionate. It asks questions that matter, and it is incumbent upon us to consider them with a pure conscience.

www.belvoir.com.au | www.therabble.com.au