Child's play
This
play is written by a Serbian author dealing with the games children
(may) play in the debris of a war zone. The war zone can be that
of the domestic house front between the sexes, between the generations,
between the neighbours, next door or next city. It is the terrible
tale of the Human Animal when placed in extremes of stress. The
stress is always relative and always viable for those in the thick
of it. My body. My bed. My bedroom. My house. My suburb. My city.
My country. And it is the humanity of it. The mothers and the
fathers, the brothers and the sisters. The family of it.
This play is called Family Stories: Belgrade.
But it is just as applicable to any family whether it be Belgrade
or 201 Marilyn Street, North Ryde, Sydney, or Bankstown or the
Indigenous family in the Alice, South Australia or even the family
in B Sharp’s production of Killer Joe (a play by
Tracy Letts). Children watch and learn how to behave. They play
imitative games to make sense of their world. If the world they
live in and watch is full of patriarchal abuse, racism, violence,
rape, murder and much else, then that is the game the children
might play to make sense of what is happening about them. This
learning may be the pattern on which these children may base their
modes of behaviour as adults to be able to survive. The cycle
of life repeats itself and the families’ history repeats
those stories that began in our literary culture way back with
the Greeks and the House of Tantalus. This, then, could be called
“Family Stories: Sydney”.
In 2008 how far have we progressed? The two directors
of this production, Robert Kennedy and Bojana Novakovic, have
only two words in their program notes (NB Mr Sinclair): “WAKE
UP!” Art and artists have been calling that out for as long
as we have recorded history and literature. WAKE UP! WAKE UP!
The gentle and savage conceit of this play is that
we have adults play children play adults. The games they play
are domestic tasks like the making and eating of dinner; the discussion
of politics; or the struggle between the internal relations of
the generations in the family, which may end, as in these children’s
invention, with a bullet in the head for the parents, executed
by their children.
It may record the forced family separation as a
result of economic hardship, the broken hearts that may ensue;
the unbridled grief of bereaved family members and relatives at
loss, every kind of loss. The stories are familiar and looked
at, with the knowledge of adulthood (us, sitting safely, in the
audience), are foreboding and weighted with grief for the human
condition. And yet the writer, Srbljanovic gives us an irresistible
satiric edge and so the opportunity to smile, even grin or laugh
at the games. We recognise the games, we recognise the strategies
employed by these innocent children to get what they want: funny
games, grotesquely humorous.
Our hearts ache for little Nadezda (Phaedra Nicolaidis)
so traumatised by the world about her that the only role that
the other children can give her is that of a dog. It’s the
only one that, at the beginning of the play, she can take. She
plays the family dog well. In Serbian, the name Nadezda can be
translated as Hope. This proves to be the case, for little Nadezda
finds a vocabulary and grows into a being with a voice; a voice
of her own.
Phaedra Nicolaidis is totally transporting in this
truly magnificent performance. Even if one ignored the artistry
and craftsmanship of this actress, her stamina is admirable enough.
She glows with the focused energy of a committed story teller
with all the humility of an empathetic human, bringing to life
the world and tragedy and hopefully future, of this young war
zone victim. Tanya Goldberg (Milena) gives a performance shot
through with intelligence, a sense of style and humour. Richard
Gyoerffy (Vojin), as the patriarchal figure understands the role
but is not technically moderated vocally. It is sometimes hard
to bear the sound that is too relentless, to be finally convinced
of his intentions (One suffers physical pain.).
The set design (Simone Romaniuk), that of a cubby
house made of cardboard cartons, is imaginative and amusing. The
lighting (Verity Hampson) and sound design (Basil Hogios) are
supportive to the vision of the production.
This play deserves careful attention. It is for adults; but especially
adults who still have the aspirations and inspirations of their
childhood selves and like little Nadezda, in the play, have hope
for a better future. “Out of the mouths of babes”.
The history of the Ride Out Theatre Company demonstrates
in their selection of material, that they produce with a shining
integrity that adds immeasurably to the moral construct of our
theatre-going in Sydney. It may not always add up to box office
success but it certainly enhances our lives.
For all of the intended objectives of The Kosky/Wright
The Women of Troy at the STC I found myself much more
moved by the writing and production of Family Stories: Belgrade.
Out of this catastrophe, this Serbian writer is not nihilistic
but still has a belief in hope. Maybe having to live in the crucible
of the war zone gives us the great gift of the valuing of life,
and the possibility of a better future.
Kevin Jackson
To read more of Kevin Jackson's theatre reviews,
check out his blog at
Kevin Jackson's Theatre Reviews.
