Venue: Old Fitzroy Theatre (Woolloomooloo NSW), Nov 15 – Dec 10, 2016
Playwright: Michael Cristofer
Director: Kim Hardwick
Cast: Jackson Blair-West, Jeanette Cronin, Anthony Gooley, Mark Lee, Tim McGarry, Fiona Press, Ella Prince, Kate Raison, Simon Thomson
Image by Robert Catto

Theatre review
Three terminal patients in a hospital are waiting for the inevitable, but in the meantime, they try to experience life in an ambiguous space of transience, acutely conscious of their imminent fate. Michael Cristofer’s The Shadow Box is a meditation on death, which in its distillation of life’s essence, leaves us with a play that talks a lot about love and hope.

We think about existence as being conditional on the future, letting what we do today rely on our imagination of what is to come tomorrow. When tomorrow becomes increasingly uncertain, how we experience the now transforms into something that is thoroughly disquieting. Rattled and agonised, the characters in The Shadow Box, ill and otherwise, negotiate a strange state of being that feels like a constant struggle of trying to say goodbye.

Kim Hardwick’s direction honours the depth of Cristofer’s writing with an elegant and quiet approach. Its starkness is designed in order that thoughts and emotions may erupt with immediacy, but results are mixed. Not all of its scenes are able to engage meaningfully. Even though the show works hard to demonstrate the melancholic sentimentality that each personality endures, it can often feel too distant in its coolness. Considering the weight of its themes, the production is surprisingly, more cerebral than it is emotional, leaving us craving for an experience perhaps slightly more conventionally dramatic in style.

The actors are individually robust with what they bring to their respective roles, each one shiny with conviction and professional polish. Kate Raison steals our hearts, playing up her role Beverly’s dogged optimism and blistering self-deprecation, and Jeanette Cronin’s final moments of sorrow are as devastating as they are satisfying. Performances are well-rehearsed, but chemistry is not always present, in a production that does not necessarily wish to represent any unified or rigid philosophical positions.

To love is not to possess or to shackle, but for anyone to be able to love and let go, is harder said than done. A fundamental expression of love is to be present for the other, and in The Shadow Box, we observe the ultimate in selflessness that is required for loving the dying. Sitting with the ill gives the assurance of a life valued and valid, but helping them cross over is an act of great benevolence that the ones left behind will often find themselves unequipped to administer.

www.oldfitztheatre.com

Venue: Old Fitzroy Theatre (Woolloomooloo NSW), Aug 16 – Sep 10, 2016 | Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Sep 13 – 17, 2016
Playwright: John Osborne
Directors: Damien Ryan, Lizzie Schebesta
Cast: Robin Goldsworthy, Andrew Henry, Melissa Bonne, Chantelle Jamieson
Image by John Marmaras

Theatre review
Jimmy is a very angry young man, and in Look Back In Anger, we are subjected to a series of his incessant, long and very tedious rants that prove themselves to be ultimately ineffectual, and highly irritating. At one point, he insists “that voice that cries out doesn’t have to be a weakling’s does it?”

1956 it seems, was a completely different time. Today, a white man with youth and a university education, living in a Western society, is considered to be in possession of the greatest of privileges, and we have no patience for their complaints about their perceived (and possibly, imagined) injustices of life. Of course, residing in positions of advantage does not automatically absolve a person of angst and self-proclaimed victimhood. Jimmy’s grief with our troubled existence is valid, and it is his right to refuse to suck it up, grin and bear it, but like all the furious white male voices that rule the talk-back radio waves, we can choose to ignore their shrill babble. John Osborne’s play is well structured, but its themes and concerns could not be more dated, and for many feminists, not much is lost if Look Back In Anger, along with its overt misogyny, is left dead, buried and cremated.

From a technical perspective however, co-directors Damien Ryan and Lizzie Schebesta have revived the play with admirable accuracy and nuance, delivering powerful drama, especially to those more welcoming of its ethos. Also accomplished are its designers; Jonathan Hindmarsh’s set and Anna Gardiner’s costumes add meaningful, dynamic touches to the look of the piece, thoughtfully utilising the space’s intimacy to provide a vibrant immediacy to the experience.

The cast is uniformly strong, with each actor contributing impressive depth in their characterisations of less than inspiring personalities. Osborne’s dialogue is provocative (to say the least), and his lines are given tremendous fervour by an ensemble insistent on winning us over. Andrew Henry is at his bombastic best as Jimmy, with a portrayal so passionate and convincing that we struggle to detach our dislike for the character from what is actually an excellent performance by the leading man. Henry finds scintillating chemistry with each of his co-stars, and it must be said that every scene is captivating, but also undeniably excruciating for audiences less tolerant of its turgid drivel.

Like many works of art (good or bad) that cause exasperation, Look Back In Anger will spark discussion. In its time, the work was relevant for its interest in class consciousness and issues of poverty, but these ideas have evolved into something that is now inseparable from contexts of race and gender. In the past, audiences were able to understand the world from Jimmy’s perspective, but today, the world turns the tables and puts him under scrutiny. We are made to look at anxieties of the white man, but his anger scarcely raises a brow. Perhaps it is only himself who could possibly benefit from wallowing in that distorted and narcissistic reflection.

www.oldfitztheatre.com