Home

  • Welcome to Cultural Binge

    Welcome to Cultural Binge

    The rating system is simple:

    ★★★★★ – Terrific, world-standard. Don’t miss.

    ★★★★ – Great, definitely worth seeing.

    ★★★ – Good. Perfectly entertaining. Recommended. Individual mileage may vary.

    ★★ – Fine. Flawed and not really recommended, but you may find something to appreciate in it.

    ★ – Bad (& possibly offensive).

    See more reviews over at The Queer Review.

    Instagram: @culturalbinge

    Substack: culturalbinge.substack.com

    Email: chad at culturalbinge.com

  • The Caretaker ★★★★1/2

    The Caretaker ★★★★1/2

    Written by Harold Pinter. Ensemble Theatre. 14 Oct – 19 Nov, 2022.

    There’s something about watching actors who are so intensely “in the moment”… It’s mesmerising. Actors who, even when they aren’t speaking, are so invested, embodying their role so completely, they are watchable at all times. And in The Caretaker at Ensemble Theatre you get three of these performances for more than 2 and a half hours straight. 

    Harold Pinter’s story is a carefully choreographed relay race of interpersonal power dynamics. Davies (Darren Gilshenan) is homeless and has no power at all. He is taken in by Aston (Anthony Gooley) who is slowly renovating a dilapidated London house, owned by his brother Mick (Henry Nixon). Maybe Davies can stay as a caretaker, looking after the building? But there’s something off about him – maybe his mental health, maybe he’s constantly lying? Maybe he’s not the only one?

    Darren Gilshenan as Davies. Photo: Prudence Upton.

    Davies is one of the best, most complicated characters created for the stage. He is powerless, but relentlessly demanding under a passive-aggressive veneer. He is always angling for more, pushing the limits to see how far he can take it – but it’s instinctive, not pre-planned. What is the truth at the core of this man? Is there any truth at all? He is a ball of impulses and excuses and desires and fears. And Darren Gilshenan inhabits him so completely it is astonishing to watch. This is comedy pushed so far as to turn into tragedy before your eyes. You’ll struggle to find a better performance this year.

    Iain Sinclair’s production wouldn’t work if it was an uneven match and thankfully Gilshenan’s Davies is balanced out by Gooley’s unnervingly calm Aston and Nixon’s unpredictably menacing Mick. Nixon especially is giving not one, but about a dozen performances at the same time as his Mick jabs and goads and does everything possible to take advantage – flipping from caring politeness to rough aggression at a moments notice. He is bombastic in every sense of the word.

    Darren Gilshenan as Davies and Henry Nixon as Mick. Photo: Prudence Upton.

    And it’s this tension between three unpredictable characters (and a bucket hanging overhead) that keeps the scenes electric and never lets the absurd elements overrun the humanity. The famous “bag scene” still draws a solid laugh both for its physical comedy and the expression of the push & pull of the internal dynamics. Veronique Benett’s set is cluttered and claustrophobic, making the small stage of the Ensemble feel even smaller and more cramped. It’s an intense space to sit in for so long.

    At more than two and a half hours long, with two intervals, this is a big night at the theatre. It’s funny, but the humour doesn’t counteract the pressure of the drama. A casual first date this is not. But for theatre lovers, this is just the thing. A terrific production of a classic that proves its timelessness, throws up big questions for Sydney today (rental crisis, anyone?) and is anchored in top-notch performances. 

  • Interview: Iain Sinclair, director of The Caretaker at Ensemble Theatre

    Interview: Iain Sinclair, director of The Caretaker at Ensemble Theatre

    Iain Sinclair, the acclaimed director whose production of Harold Pinter’s classic The Caretaker opens at Ensemble Theatre tonight, took some time out from rehearsals to have a frank and informative chat (via email) about the timelessness of Pinter’s work, the critics, how the Ensemble Theatre itself alters how you approach a play and why you, yes you dear reader, should definitely come and see it.

    This interview has been slightly condensced and editted.

    The CROC: Why The Caretaker? What was it about this particular piece that made you want to direct it now?

    Iain Sinclair (I.S.): I learned how to direct from The great Max Stafford Clark. He showed me two lines from The Caretaker and invited me to feel the potential brimming out of them. 
     
    Aston: Where were you born then?
    Davies: (Darkly) What do you mean?

     
    The universe of experience between the two characters felt bigger somehow. Trauma in the past, danger in the future and an unbearable moment between the two. Also, lurking in the gap between Pinter’s text and subtext I could feel a joke wrapped in an unmistakable sense of threat most particularly the threat of being tagged with an identity…

    From then on I have had a burning desire to explore the play onstage with actors that I admire. Having spent 5 weeks with the text now I feel like I am just at the very beginning of my journey with this play and this extraordinary writer.

    In a time when everybody in the middle class is desperately tagging themselves and others with self declared identities and striving to find as many grievances as possible to declare to the world, it’s chastening to get a taste of how truly disenfranchised people behave in The Caretaker. First off the characters in this play hide their identities and then they do whatever they can to reclaim their dignity, they don’t parade their victimhood like a badge of honour. Pinter knew what it was like to be disenfranchised and “other” first hand, he grew up Jewish in Hackney, and he survived. The play rings with observed experience.

    CROC: In the trailer [above] you used a Douglas Adams quote – “the long dark tea-time of the soul”. What’s the balance between the fear and the comedy in the play?

    I.S.: It’s quite literally a balancing act and previous productions have tilted and veered in all possible directions. Jonathan Pryce leant into the lighter aspects and was lively, Timothy Spall was ferocious and rodent like, Michael Gambon was a chameleon for all seasons. It is such a rich palette. Sometimes our version [of the] play is hilarious, the next unsettling , the next truly frightening. I have a feeling that our production will continue to shake the bottle every night  and see which elements surface.

    We have also discovered that everytime we try to trap or tame this dramatic beast it bites us back. I’m a big believer in the “different every night” principle put forward by the great Mike Alfreds, every play has parameters of course but within them there is a vast field of artistic choice. An arena for actors to dive into. Depending on the night you see, the balance, the mix will be gloriously different. It has animal sensibility. Modernity has done a number on our instinctive and intuitive selves and plays like this rekindle those dormant sensibilities.

    Anthony Gooley, Henry Nixon, Darren Gilshenan in rehearsals. Credit: Prudence Upton

    CROC: Let’s talk about the cast – how’d you settle on this trio of Darren Gilshenan, Anthony Gooley and Henry Nixon? And what have you discovered about them in the rehearsal process?

    I.S. The moment [Ensemble Artistic Director] Mark Kilmurray invited me to work on this play I knew I had to work with actors that I knew well. All of us have done a number of successful shows together and I’m leaning heavily into the trust that we share.

    Darren is a master of merrily leading an audience town the primrose path to hell and has done so with me in plays like Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf and Our Town, Anthony Gooley has done six shows with me, he has a heart the size of a Hindu cow, is ferociously literate and was the only man I could trust with radiating Aston’s trapped soul through a very small behavioural window and Henry Nixon … well all I can say is come and see what Henry Nixon is doing with Mick a good deal of it defies description and I’m loving all of it.

    All of us have dreamed about putting on a Pinter for well over 20 years and now it’s finally happening. We are chomping at the bit to share all our hard and passionate work.

    Directing The Caretaker has taken every skill that I have developed since graduating in UK in 1996. I surely would have ballsed it up if I took it on as a young hotshot, I would have been all desperate to “make my mark” and “put my stamp” on it! I’m still not entirely sure that I’ve served the actors well enough as I speak one day away from opening but I can declare that I have given
    it everything I’ve got, and then some. The same goes for the actors, we have finished each day of rehearsal feeling like we have done three.
     
    I’m determined now to do as many works of Harold’s as I can before I die.

    Anthony Gooley, Henry Nixon, Darren Gilshenan in rehearsals. Credit: Prudence Upton

    CROC: Property is the great Sydney obsession and we’re in the middle of a crisis for renters and the homeless – has that fed into the work? How does the play speak to modern Sydney?

    I.S.: The definition of a Classic work is that it resonates though time. The Caretaker does just that. The profound insecurity of homelessness has been with us since we harnessed fire and the housing situation today is an echo of that. This play deals with people at the literal bottom of the pile. All of us walk past the chronically homeless and choose not to do anything about it on a daily basis and it’s shameful, but the reason we do so is complex.

    Often, we intuit that if we were to enter their world you need to be prepared for the hurricane of chaos and dysfunction that may have gotten them onto the streets in the first place. This happens in Pinter’s play. Aston brings back a Pandora’s box of trouble in the guise of an elderly tramp. Mental illness and social dysfunction is no picnic and it’s untruthful to present these people simply as hapless victims of society or of capitalism in general. All the great works present a complex picture beyond moralising, one that is beyond good and evil, that is how they endure. Pinter was profoundly political but as a
    dramatist he was a great deal more than a moralist or a topical commentator. 

    Henry Nixon, Darren Gilshenan in rehearsals. Credit: Prudence Upton

    CROC: You’re no stranger to interpreting modern classics – how do you find new life in familiar material?

    Truly classic material is already alive, all a director has to do is help actors free it from the prison of convention. Get all the stuff out of its way and let it cast its unique spell. Quite often the stuff in the way is stupid shit that critics have said in the past. The trouble is that most critics haven’t been in the crucible of rehearsal before, the worst ones haven’t created a single thing, just commented and analysed. Commentary and analysis isn’t promethean, it is missing the creative spark. My first job is to scrape off all the plaque and use only the
    words of the dramatist. The key is to set a classic free from opinion.

    St Augustine said that the truth is a lion, all you need to do is set it free. That’s our one goal. I find the need to put a “stamp” on a classic as crazy and signing your name at the bottom of something you didn’t paint. Humility and dedication is the key to breathing life into great works, if we stop shouting at them and trying to tell them what they are and instead, listen they enrich our world in ways we previously couldn’t even fathom. Sir Peter Hall once said that the best way to make Shakespeare boring is by trying to “make it interesting”. The best thing for fire is fuel and oxygen, anything extra to that will dampen the possibility of ignition.

    Henry Nixon, Darren Gilshenan in rehearsals. Credit: Prudence Upton

    CROC: How much does the specific theatre change the way you approach a text? What does the Ensemble Theatre itself bring to the experience of The Caretaker

    I.S.: Evolutionary anthropologists say that humans evolved to cluster in groups between 150 and 300 and as a result we can hold that number of people meaningfully in our consciousness. The Ensemble is bang in the sweet spot and that means we can engage in a meaningful shared experience, what the French call “complicité”. If the audience is bigger than that you start to have to add soundscapes and choreography and all sorts of other bells and whistles
    to keep the audience united. The Ensemble space is my favourite in that regard. The audience comes in as separate people but they leave as a group.

    CROC: So, if someone is a complete “Pinter-virgin”, why should they come see The Caretaker at the Ensemble?

    Because it will open the door to Jez Butterworth and Conor McPherson and Caryl Churchill and John Romeril and Tom Holloway and Kate Mulvany and Declan Greene and all of the other exceptional playwrights out there who consciously or subconsciously owe a debt to Harold Pinter for the doors he opened wide for dramatists the world over.
     
    Also because it will awaken parts of your soul that may have fallen asleep during the quiet horror of lockdown… oh and did I mention that it’s very funny, piss funny. 
     
    Literally.

    Thanks to Iain Sinclair for his time and thoughts, as well as the teams at Ensemble Theatre and Kabuku PR for their help bringing this together. A full review of The Caretaker is coming up. Click here for more information and to purchase tickets on the Ensemble Theatre website.

  • End Of. ★★★1/2

    End Of. ★★★1/2

    Written by Ash Flanders. Griffin Theatre Company. Oct 13 – Nov 5, 2022

    Read my review of Ash Flanders’ End Of. at The Queer Review.

  • Past The Shallows ★★★★

    Past The Shallows ★★★★

    Written by Julian Larnach, based on the novel by Favel Parrett. Australian Theatre for Young People / Archipelago Productions, Sydney. 12 Oct – 9 Nov, 2022.

    Past The Shallows plays like an ever-shifting dream, as three actors take on multiple roles to tell the story of a broken Tasmanian family. The narrative is like the wild fishing waters, if you fight it you’ll be lost, but if you let the current take you, the play opens itself up.

    Harry and Miles are two young boys living an isolated life with their father, an abalone diver, on the south coast of Tasmania. The family is living hand-to-mouth, struggling against the commercial trawlers and their dad’s alcoholism. Their older brother, Tom, has turned 19 and taken the first chance he has to get out, leaving the two younger boys to try to band together against an abusive father.

    It takes a moment to settle in, as the trio of young performers (Meg Clarke, Ryan Hodson and Griffin McLaughlin) switch roles with a quick change of tone and physicality, sometimes even playing the same character at the same time. It gives Past The Shallows a dream-like flow, like a memory being constructed and reconstructed in front of you. Together the trio play the three brothers, their father, his workmate, a local outcast named Bill and even a dog named Rusty. It’s the kind of theatrical conceit that could go very, very wrong, but in the hands of director Ben Winspear, it is crystal clear. 

    Adding to the dream-like environment are the large projections of sky and sea by Nema Adel that fill the stage, and soundscape by Glenn Richards that manage to make the open stage of the Rebel Theatre into a raging sea and a claustrophobic house.

    Playwright Julian Larnach has taken Favel Parrett’s novel and distilled it down to a piece of intense, spoken-word poetry – I was taken aback by the palpable sense of danger I felt, the menace of a violent father, the unpredictability of the sea.

    The success of Past The Shallows comes from the alchemy on stage – each of the three performers carry the narrative like a relay race, passing it between them as it builds and builds. No one drops the baton. At a brisk 75 minutes, it’s an all-enveloping watch. 

  • The Mousetrap ★★★1/2

    The Mousetrap ★★★1/2

    Written by Agatha Christie. Theatre Royal, Sydney October 8-30, 2022 then touring to Brisbane, Adelaide and Melbourne.

    It’s serendipitous timing that Agatha Christie’s The Mousetrap has opened in Sydney while the brilliant film, See How They Run, is still in cinemas. Together they’re perfect companion pieces, and seeing The Mousetrap before the film will definitely elevate your enjoyment of both!

    The beauty of The Mousetrap is that at 70 years of age it has no intention of changing to match the modern mood. This is a classic manor-house murder mystery, with secret passageways, a conveniently severe snow storm, a motley collection of very eccentically British characters and some passing continental racism. Yes we’ve seen this a thousand times by now on any number of British comfort-crime TV shows (Midsomer Murders, Grantchester etc). But here we’re going back to the source, and the plot still proves that Christie was ahead of her time with her ability to weave character, class and gritty realities into a coherent and thrilling story. 

    I saw The Mousetrap more than a decade ago, and had completely forgotten the who-did-it at the centre of the who-dunnit. So it was fun to be able to play along afresh. I remembered the bare essentials of the plot but, as I think will happen to many people in the audience, I had to try to seperate what I knew of the play and all of the variations used by the numerous imitators that came after. Was I remembering The Mousetrap, or a scene from An Inspector Calls? Or The Real Inspector Hound etc? 

    Knowing laughter rippled across the audience as plot points were delivered. The radio tells us the police are after a murder suspect wearing a dark overcoat, white scarf and felt hat… as not one but multiple people arrive at Monkswell Manor wearing versions of the same thing. Characters that would have once been “coded” gay are more obvious to modern eyes. If only the broad, caricaturish portrayal of Mr Paravicini had as much depth – but then again, that is rather the point. 

    Director Robyn Nevin has clearly put the work in with the cast to step beyond the obvious, shallow portrayals and give each character a real heart and motivation. No one is winking at the audience (with the exception of Paravicini), they’re taking these characters seriously and that gives the story the weight it needs and instantly dispels any am-dram fears.

    But I guess the central question is, does this murder-mystery hold up after 70 years? Yes. The plot is twisty enough to keep you guessing and the story is full of charming moments, red herrings and some sly commentary on the English to keep everyone amused. Some of the story may seem overly familiar but that’s because they work so well they became cliche in the years after. 

    Agatha Christie popularised the genre of “comfort-crime” with her stories and The Mousetrap is the perfect example of that. It’s a distraction, but a well made and entertaining one at that, and this touring production does the show credit by giving audiences exactly what they want. If you’re a theatre-fan then go to see a classic and have fun. If you’re after an easy night at the theatre, then this will work perfectly. 

    Then do yourself a favour and catch See How They Run at the cinema before it closes…

  • Anatomy of a Suicide ★★★★★

    Anatomy of a Suicide ★★★★★

    Written by Alice Birch. Sugary Rum Produtcions, Chopt Logic and Seymour Centre. 6-29 October 2022

    If you’re the kind of theatre nerd who gets off on inventive uses of theatrical form, as well a blistering good performances (and I definitely am), then the return season of Anatomy of a Suicide at Seymour Centre should be top of your “must see” list. There’s a reason the play is acclaimed, and that playwright Alice Birch is considered one of Britain’s best.

    Three generations of women deal with trauma, passed down from one to other, as the ripples of one suicide create waves of pain in the future. It sounds like misery-porn, and in some ways it is, but Anatomy of a Suicide is saved from the weight of its own premise by presenting all three lives simultaneously. Instant comparisons are drawn through the lives of grandmother Carol, mother Anna and daughter Bonnie, moments of symmetry emerge as well as moments of revelation and release. 

    It takes a few minutes to settle into the flow of the play, with three scenes playing at once, tightly timed to allow dialogue to synchronise and overlap. It forces you to let go and stop trying to “pay attention” to any specific moment and let the triptych wash over you. Director Shane Anthony modulated the movement and pace so you’re never lost, you never miss a beat, and the ensemble fill their silences with as much meaning as their words. It’s the kind of theatrical dance that gets me excited to go to the theatre. 

    And the trio of leads are as indelible as they are flawless. Anna Houston’s Carol is brittle and desperate, sadness radiates from her immaculate facade. Anna Samson’s Anna builds herself up from addiction to stability slowly and painfully. And Kate Skinner’s Bonnie is guarded and controlled, determined not to let her pain spread to others. Each performance hits different notes but together they form a symphony of storytelling. They build on top of each other, showing three women who are incapable of really connecting to the world around them and who deal with that in different ways. 

    It’s clear Alice Birch is a great writer, and a great teller of women’s stories. Her debt to Caryl Churchill is evident but for me, Birch imbues the conceptual with a more grounded emotional tone. Not that the two playwrights are in competition, we need them both and more besides. Motherhood, seen through Birch’s lens, is a complicated equation and not a decision to be taken lightly. As the weight of generations falls on Bonnie’s shoulders, her decisions are intriguing.

    I have a slight issue with one aspect of the text – Bonnie’s sexuality. Each of the three women are presented as struggling with issues. Carol’s depression, Anna’s addiction and by unfortunate inference Bonnie’s sexuality becomes her defining trait. I’m not suggesting Birch thinks of Bonnie’s lesbianism in the same way as depression or mental health, but a clearer distinction could have been drawn. 

    Anatomy of a Suicide is great theatre, and I’m glad this 2019 production has been remounted for another run. The Seymour Centre has had a terrific season this year with four of my favourite shows of 2022 (Heroes of the Fourth Turning, American Ulster, Albion and now Anatomy of a Suicide), bring on 2023!

  • Chalkface ★★★★

    Chalkface ★★★★

    Written by Angela Betzien. Sydney Theatre Company. 15 September – 29 October.

    Chalkface is a sitcom on the stage. In fact, it feels like a pitch for a TV show that has been translated to the theatre. That’s not a bad thing per se. It’s funny as hell with some heart underneath and a great night out.

    When Chalkface was announced I wasn’t enthused. It had an air about it. Like those promos you see on Channel 9 screaming about the “hilarious, new comedy on Monday night” that you know will be the same old American rubbish, starring a washed up stand up comedian or faded Hollywood star, filled with bad jokes and hammy acting. If someone has to tell you they’re funny, they’re probably not funny, right? So I walked in prepared to smile wryly and have the odd chuckle but leave pretty unmoved. Thankfully I was wrong about that.

    With the action confined to a decrepit primary school staffroom, the scene is set and instantly stolen by Susan Prior as Denise. In retrospect, it felt odd to begin with a “side-character” who’s narrative runs more or less parallel to the main plot, but Prior is simply the MVP of this show. Her moments of insanity were pure joy to watch and made of the most entertaining scene-changes I’ve seen in years. Denise’s mental health is not great and yes, it’s played for laughs (as is everything else in the show) but the actual pain is there on Prior’s face in moments between the laughter. 

    The core of the story is the three-way tussle between Principle Houston (Nathan O’Keefe), long-time teacher Pat (Catherine McClements) and new graduate teacher Anna (Stephanie Somerville) over a problem child, Hurricane Little. Pat is cynical about the impact they have on the little terrors they teach and is mourning the loss of her friend, fellow teacher Sue. Anna is keen to impress with her knowledge of “neuroplasticity” and the like, trying to bring new energy to the school. And Principle Houston is desperate to push Pat out and fill the school with corporate management theory. 

    Like all great plays, it’s the little things that make Chalkface so much fun. The tiny moments and visual gags that elevate scenes. From the School Administrator Cheryl Filch (Michelle Ny – also brilliantly funny) imitating the cover of “The Handmaid’s Tale” and her unwittingly offensive announcements over the tannoy, to the verbal quips that fill each and every line. This is a cracking comedy script. Well honed and purring like a proverbial kitten. In an audience filled with teachers who laughed knowingly at visual cues (the principal arriving in cycling lycra and helmet got a big chuckle) the attention to details paid off. Kudos to director Jessica Arthur for balancing it all out so well.

    If I’m being picky, I wasn’t loving fellow teacher Steve (I don’t know what he added to the story) and the treatment of Denise’s mental health could have had a pay off in the end. The play never felt uniquely Australian either, these are issues faced all around the world and a little more local specificity may have helped, but the show had already won me over so I was ready to let things like that slide. 

    I’ll be honest, STC has had a bit of a hit & miss year for me in 2022. Some stand-out, brilliant shows and some that felt horribly forced and poorly presented, but they seem to be ending the year on a real high. Between A Raisin in the Sun, Strange Case of Dr Jekyll & Mr Hyde and Chalkface you’ve covered all your bases – a powerful classic, a bold new work and an approachable, crowd-pleasing comedy. This is exactly how a season should play out. I’m keen to see what 2023 has in store.

    Chalkface is a comfort-food comedy. You will have a great time reminiscing about your own childhood experiences, laughing at the observations of terrible parents (the gags about kids names were gold) and feel your heartstrings pulled gently at the plight of underfunded schools. Grab a ticket and take a friend, this is a good time out by the harbour!

  • The Lifespan of a Fact ★★★1/2

    The Lifespan of a Fact ★★★1/2

    Written by Jeremy Kareken and David Murrell and Gordon Farrell. Sydney Theatre Company. 20 September – 22 October, 2022.

    A thought-provoking, hilarious script. A beloved Australian actress. Sydney Theatre Company’s Covid-delayed production of Broadway hit, The Lifespan of a Fact, is finally here with the weight of expectation behind it. And it’s good. Really good. But for me, something is missing…

    We all have big opinions about the state of journalism, the fog of “alternative facts”, the erosion of public trust etc, and The Lifespan of a Fact tries to get to the core of whether “the truth” and “the facts” are indeed one and the same. The script fizzes with conceptual wordplay shooting out between three instantly recognisable characters. The powerful editor, the stubborn writer, the over-enthusiastic youth. 

    In telling the story of a suicide, what is more imporant – capturing the essence of the person, or holding fast to the details? Should you ever “let the facts get in the way of a good story”? What is “truth” after all? For writer/essayist John D’Agata the truth is the essence, it is the journey taken to bring the reader to a deeper understanding. For intern/fact-checker Jim Fingal the truth is the cumulative total of verifiable facts. For editor Emily Penrose the truth is the best, most impactful story that passes due diligence – balancing the prose with the poetry for maximum cut-through. Throw in a tight deadline to turn up the screws and you’ve got the set-up for a cerebral farce on journalistic themes. This is completely up my alley. 

    But something is missing…

    Some excellent casting amplifies the drama. Charles Wu’s Jim is fresh-faced and earnest, a believer in what great writing can do. He is pitted against Gareth Davies’ grizzled D’Agata, older, bitter and more worldly. It’s never spoken aloud, but the age gap, the experience gap fuels the duals clashing worldviews. Between them Sigrid Thornton looks utterly tiny on the Rosyln Packer stage, but her presence is all enveloping. As Emily, the matriarch of her magazine who is forced into the role of arbiter in this war, she ducks and weaves and cajoles her team, desperate to reach a deadline that could shower them in accolades – but only if it’s correct. 

    For a play hitting at some of the big topics of modern times, The Lifespan of a Fact is wonderfully engaging but feels… slight. It’s like watching an episode of The West Wing. Charming and sharp, observant but ultimately a little glib. It’s just not as insightful as it thinks it is. Once you establish character, situation, plot and the stakes there’s only so much room to explore the issues in an entertaining way. And *spoiler alert here for the rest of the sentence* the ending feels like a dramatic cheat. 

    Elements of the production itself also gnawed at the back of my brain while watching. The set felt haphazard in the space, imprecise. Some of the timing of jokes felt rushed. And what was the point of the musician on stage, adding the occasional solitary, jazzy drone?! (BTW the “point” is explained in the show’s programme – it’s a definite stylistic choice that just didn’t work for me). These are personal niggles, not flaws.

    *Spoiler alert again!* So what was missing for me? The play has no point, no opinion. It throws its hands up in the air and says “you decide” to the audience. It’s as if the writers were too scared to reveal their own feelings, or maybe it got lost in the committee (there are three writers credited – Jeremy Kareken, David Murrell and Gordon Farrell). And it’s a shame. The play could have ended with a stirring “fuck yeah” speech by Emily about the importance of truth, the power of facts, of facing the reality of the world and not hiding behind convenient narratives. It could have said something.

    Instead, The Lifespan of a Fact entertains us. This isn’t a bad thing at all, it’s a good thing. We need entertainment that tickles our brains as well as our funny-bones. Good theatre entertains, but really great theatre enlightens… and this is really good theatre.

  • Photograph 51 ★★★★

    Photograph 51 ★★★★

    Written by Anna Zeigler. Ensemble Theatre. 2 September – 8 October 2022.

    This is nice theatre. That’s not a dig by any means. I need nice theatre in my life. Theatre that tickles at your brain and your emotions, filled with language that sings and moments that make you smile, and scoff, and frown. At times everyone is so desperate to make that theatre that will be described as “vital” and “urgent” and ends up being “insufferable” and “boring”, there is a lot to be said for a good play, well presented that tells an interesting story with charm, and Photograph 51 at Ensemble Theatre is exactly that. 

    At first impressions I wondered if director Anna Ledwich had decided to stage the play in an Aesop store. Designer Emma Vine’s set is filled with warm woods, subtle recessed lighting and tall, calming arches with brown medical bottles. Evoking 1950s design but also guiding our eyes to sciences loftier, almost holy, ambitions. As the play asks, does it matter who was first to make the discovery, or merely that the discovery was made at all?

    So this is the world we meet Rosalind Franklin, sorry Dr Rosalind Franklin, a brilliant scientist who receives a place at Kings College to further her research. Franklin is primed for battle in a system dominated by entitled white men. As competing teams of scientists work to discover the structure of DNA, Franklin’s own demeanour and stubborn perfectionism prove to be worse enemies than the people around her. But it is her skill in X-ray crystallography that produces the ground-breaking first image of the double-helix structure – Photograph 51.

    Playwright Anna Zeigler’s text is wordy, but I’m a sucker for a talky play about science. Give me Michael Frayn’s Copenhagen or Tom Morton-Smith’s Oppenheimer any day. There is a careful rhythm to the speech that has a beauty and a humour all its own. Told through the memories of the men who outlived Dr Franklin and would win the Nobel prize for the discovery, Zeigler resists the urge to frame it as merely a fight against patriarchy. The various other scientists, Maurice Wilkins, Francis Crick and James Watson are filled with a combination of guilt, pride, regret and resignation to the way history plays out and how Dr Franklin’s role was dismissed for so long. But the play posits the question – was the real problem the fact she was overlooked as a woman? Or was it that her rigorous perfectionism robbed her of the imagination to see the breakthrough right in front of her?

    Amber McMahon gives Rosalind Franklin a real spark. She’s spikey and gruff, but filled with a playful charm that draws the humour of our Zeigler’s script. In a way the play isn’t actually about Franklin, it’s about the men who orbit around and eventually tell her story, and as such McMahon is often the foundation for the other more eye-catching roles, and the ensemble is pitch perfect here. The two real standouts for me were Garth Holcombe’s Maurice Wilkins, Franklin’s scientific partner, the walking embodiment of Kings College’s establishment ways and Toby Blome’s ambitious and youthful James Watson, who would push the ethical boundaries to be first. 

    Holcombe makes Wilkins both the butt of every joke and a sympathetic, high minded, individual. He plays the layers of emotion behind the awkward Britishness with an assured hand. I was lucky enough to be seated near the front and could see every flicker cross his face. Meanwhile Blome’s Watson is an explosion of hair and avarice. The intensity and physicality of his ambition is one of the things that stops Photograph 51 from drowning under its own weight. 

    Photograph 51 isn’t challenging or particularly insightful or speaking volumes to our current age so don’t come looking for that. It is quite simply a really good night at the theatre. A strong script, elegantly staged by craftspeople doing their jobs flawlessly, all in around 90 minutes. And that is frankly the refreshing piece of theatre I needed to see right now.

  • A Raisin in the Sun ★★★★1/2

    A Raisin in the Sun ★★★★1/2

    Written by Lorraine Hansberry. Sydney Theatre Company. 27 August – 15 October 2022.

    As the lights came up at the end of Sydney Theatre Company’s production of A Raisin in the Sun I was angry. My reaction to the Younger family was at odds with the play’s intentions. Pack of proud fools! I was mad at them. I was mad at the world around them. I was mad at a lot of things. But I wasn’t mad at this production – this production is heaven-sent!

    Can we take a quick digression? How on earth can it be true that this is the mainstage Australian premiere of a play that has been an instant classic since it was first staged in 1959? Even if you thought US race relations in the 50s wouldn’t translate to Australia (and you would be very wrong about that), the sheer beauty and strength of the text should be enough to get it onto the stage. Lorraine Hansberry is the actual definition of “young, gifted and black” and this play is a modern masterpiece.

    The quartet of the core Younger family members are dynamic together. A collision of pride and aspiration with the pain of life. The impending arrival of a life insurance check for $10,000 gives them a way out of their rut, but it’s not enough for everyone to get what they want. Matriarch Lena (Gayle Samuels), the recipient, has to juggle the wants and needs of her children, and their children. Her son, Walter (Bert Labonté), wants to quit his job as a chauffeur and go into business with his friends – to reclaim his manhood and stop being someone’s servant. Her daughter Beneatha (Angela Mahlatjie) is studying medicine, the first in the family to go to college, and the money will pay for her education. Walter’s wife, Ruth (Zahra Newman), just wants to get the hell out of this place, the weight of her depression is killing her. 

    These are four, fantastic performances. Newman’s Ruth is simultaneously an open wound in a tightly clenched fist. Labonté’s Walter, a proud man brought low, desperate for respect. Mahlatjie’s Beneatha is both youthfully ignorant (perhaps even entitled) and a deep thinker. Samuel’s Lena is a rock refusing to crack under the intense weight of life. They are electric.

    Director Wesley Enoch plays things pretty straight, which is fitting for the text and its premiere status. The text is the star here and it is delivered without distractions. Hansberry’s characters are instantly vivid, layered and honest; they need no more embellishments. We get to live in the Younger family’s small apartment, stare out the grubby window into the air shaft, watch it transform through the day as the family live their lives. Enoch has also chosen to retain the character of Mrs Johnson, the Younger’s nosey neighbour (often cut for time – the play is almost three hours long) and she is an injection of humour, drama and fresh energy within the claustrophobic surroundings.

    So why was I angry? I wanted to slap Walter for his stupidity again and again. It’s here this 1950s play resonates with the 2020s. A weak, broken man is given more and more chances to ruin things. Had I been on that stage I would have thrown Walter out of the house, not given him more authority. A stupid patriachal family struture with an idiotically vain man in a position of power – this is the downfall of the civilisation we live in, writ large on the stage as a story of hope and dignity. I struggle to sympathise with him and I felt his constant betrayals of Ruth too keenly. The narrative of him “finding his pride” left me hollow.

    The play’s ending, as ever, is a bittersweet blend of hope in the face of adversity. Have the Younger’s made a wise decision? Probably not. Have they made a bold decision? Definitely. Maybe the point is that they are finally in a position to make any decision at all. They have agency. Their destiny is in their own hands now, and it will be hard sailing ahead.

    Go see A Raisin in the Sun. It’s as simple as that. This is a worthy classic, produced and performed beautifully. To miss it would be folly.