Toy Symphony

Company: State Theatre Co of South Australia
Venue: Dunstan Playhouse, Adelaide
Dates: To 14 February 2010

 

Head over heart

I was well known as Adelaide’s worst waiter for many years. In one of the down-at-heel eateries where customers had the misfortune to encounter my dropped plates, questionable pronunciation of Italian and utter inability to remember orders, worked a chef of rare talent. His obvious fondness for cheap booze meant he’d never risen to the heights of chefdom, but his food, though simple, was unerringly delicious. He cooked with soul. And plenty of butter and salt, but there was a heart and a love to his cooking.

There is an essential distance in Michael Gow’s Toy Symphony. Although accusing the play of a lack of soul may be too harsh, there is a coolness and aloofness to the text which makes it hard to emotionally engage with the story. The drama of raw conflict is missing.

But I start with my misgivings. Toy Symphony is a wonderfully imaginative examination of the creative process. Director Geordie Brookman shows his ease in injecting energy into a script that moves between a memory play and a magical narrative.

Roland Henning (Chris Pitman) is a playwright with writer’s block so paralysing he can barely bring himself to say it. He consults therapist Nina (Lizzy Falkland) and together they return to his childhood as Roland struggles to understand how he writes and creates. This takes him into strange and troubling territory – could he actually physically conjure up real people? And where has that wondrous ability gone?

The text works against the actors. The self-indulgence of Roland’s character means he is not likeable and a little dull. But Pitman’s talent shines in the scenes where we see Roland’s doubt, inventiveness, nastiness and prurience. Falkland has an even harder job – Nina is a slight role with little meat to it – but she gives a nicely measured performance.

Daniel Mulvihill and Ed Wightman play a number of roles and do so with great success. Wightman’s lawyer is a starkly accurate study in professional slickness and Mulvihill’s Daniel, the drama student who becomes the object of Roland’s affections, is unnervingly excellent. The magical scenes are a highlight of this production: they are funny, exuberant and their playfulness lifts the ponderousness of the play.

Jonathan Oxlade’s set and Nigel Levings’ lighting design fit the production well. The heavy wood veneer, vertical blinds and plastic chairs are depressingly mundane, but the subtle lighting design imbues this familiar landscape with otherworldly atmospheres.

This is a play for the head and not for the heart.

John Wells

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