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Picture this!
In
the reputation of Shopping and F$$$ing, British playwright, Mark Ravenhill,
hurls his audience into a bleak world of lost souls drowning in consumerism,
drugs, disease and political collision. Nick (Blair Venn) has just been
released from prison having faced a sentence for the attempted murder
of archetypal capitalist, Jonathan (John Turnbull). He returns to his
ex-lover and political partner, Helen (Genevieve Hegney), who to his surprise,
has abandoned her Marxist sensibilities for a suit and briefcase and a
mundane career in the local council. Nick struggles to rehabilitate as
he realises that the once radical socialist world he left behind has been
replaced by apathy and relentless hedonism personified by the laissez-faire
lifestyles of lap dancer, Nadia (Rebecca Smee), Russian sex toy-boy, Victor
(Gibson Nolte), and party drug-taker and AIDS sufferer, Tim (Christian
Barrett-Hill).
Like the title suggests, this is an episodic montage with the scenes held together with dramatic outbursts of thunder, some of which at times, seemed overdramatic especially when the performances in themselves, were powerful enough to drive the next scene. Aside from the few mistimed lighting and sound cues, it is hard to flaw this well-executed piece of theatre.
Gibson Nolte dangerously donned a Russian accent for Victor and not only sustained it successfully throughout but didn’t allow its comic tendencies to interfere with the sad desperation of Victor’s plight to be loved. Equally commendable was Rebecca Smee’s balance of Nadia’s fluctuations as the eternal optimist and the victim of abuse. Ravenhill’s characters could have potentially been butchered to stereotypes but the stellar cast does them justice playing them with compassion and subtle variation. If anything, the play would have benefited from more quiet moments with less technical intrusions.
The stark
white-tiled stage reminiscent of a bathroom is lit up in blinding luminous
light. Six white bus-seats are placed facing the audience and are used
in different configurations for each of the scenes. It is minimal and
the cold and clinical setting works in total harmony with the themes of
the play. The replication of the bathroom seems to function in many ways.
It is literal as Nick undresses for a shower, it doubles as the sterile
and harsh setting of the hospital, and it also provides an ironic metaphor
for a place of cleansing. The white towels stacked neatly on a metal rack
are the only permanent props on stage and are interestingly used to dry
Nick twice; at the beginning and the end, though arguably, we never feel
that neither Nick nor any of the characters are actually ‘cleansed’.
If anything, they just become tragically more drained of emotion and fall
into a strange state of numbness.
The play in its construction and dialogue makes for excellent drama. The themes are thought-provoking and the execution of the ensemble cast, stir some powerful emotions. Though there were some moments of discontinuity, this is more due to Ravenhill’s dramatic structure to reflect the chaotic, ambiguous and arbitrary world the characters live in. John Sheedy effortlessly translates this British political commentary to the Sydney stage with the themes sadly being still prevalent to this locale. Something about the proximity of the theatre to the Cross also seems to enhance the reality of Ravenhill’s world and underlines the relevance of the play to our time and place.
Selma Nadarajah
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Some Explicit Polaroids
Company:
Darlinghurst Theatre Company & Smug Theatre
Venues: Darlinghurst Theatre, Potts Point, Sydney
Dates: To April 22, 2006
Review provided by:
