By Martin Crimp. Stone/Castro. State Opera Studio. 8 Mar 2016
On arrival one finds a very old, virtually derelict home occupying the endless black space of the State Opera Studio. Visible through broken sections of lath and crumbling plaster, much of the interior can be seen from the outside. The hallway walls are lined with damaged millwork to the dado rail. Wallpaper peels from the disintegrating plaster. There are no doors, and indeed, many openings in the exterior walls seem to lead directly outside. A pile of firewood sits stacked against the house; deadwood and dried branches sweeping out into the peripheral. A pebble path lined with oversized river stones winds up to the door-less front door. The inside seems to seamlessly blend with the out; a timber subfloor transitions to grass.
One immediately wonders if anyone could really live in a building of this condition. Let alone with young children! But, perhaps designer David Lampard’s intent was less literal and more metaphorical; perchance a comment on the state of the relationships within this place.
We find a woman wandering the halls of this seeming empty home. She appears at odds with something or someone. It isn’t really clear. Her husband Richard appears and we learn she is Corinne. They relate to each other like a couple whose relationship has long been tested. They are antagonistic; interrogative; sarcastic; cynical.
They have moved here in pursuit of the ‘pastoral myth’; a concept perhaps less relevant to an Australian audience.
Their home is of American construction; their accents however, Australian.
He is a doctor and has brought an unconscious woman home, claiming to have found her collapsed on a track. Corinne doesn’t believe that that is the extent of their relationship and the tension is palpable. Nathan O’Keefe’s Richard is initially reticent; almost enigmatic. He begins in a composed and congenial manner, but as tension is amplified by a call from his boss, Morris, O’Keefe becomes perturbed and rueful.
Corinne attempts to pacify Richard with her sensuality, encouraging him to kiss her, but he rejects her citing a feeling of dirtiness. Jo Stone’s Corinne is brooding, and somewhat despondent to Richard’s actions. Their relationship is disputatious and Crimp writes the characters such that what is said and what is meant rarely correlate.
Listening and watching as intently as one must to the action, Lampard’s set and Director, Paulo Castro’s blocking can occasionally be frustrating – obscuring faces and eyes.
Crimp’s writing can be hard work for an audience. Full of wordplay and moral ambiguity one needs every available cue from the player’s actions and physicality to embellish the story with context.
Daniel Barber’s lighting transforms the scenes when tension and intention shift between the characters. Strobes of light punctuate heightened emotion and changes in colour swiftly shift scenes from congenial falsities to malevolent truths.
When Richard is called away to urgently attend a childbirth, the stage is set for a rude and abrupt meeting of the unconscious woman and Corinne. Now awake, she encircles the home in an attempt to gain her bearings; settling on a bench from where she can see Corinne gazing out the front door.
Her name is Rebecca, and Corinne has discovered her bag containing syringes and painkillers. We have already learned that Richard is a recovering addict.
Natalia Sledz gives Rebecca a sense of provocative indifference. When Corinne initially confronts Rebecca’s accusations of harm at Richard’s hand she attempts to vindicate him and bribe Rebecca from her accusations. But more is yet revealed and Stone quickly descends into vitriol.
Richard’s return shortly after Corinne’s departure signals another shift in Crimp’s emotional intent. The play takes on a dangerous sensuality and desperation that O’Keefe and Sledz are absolutely absorbed in. It is spine-tingling stuff.
The final scene draws the audience even further off the scent and an abrupt ending signals the start of many conversations about intent, motivation and context amongst the audience. Crimp subverts dramatic conventions and leaves us not with a clear narrative but rather a detached and often morally corrupted impression of human nature; in this case depicting middle class infidelity.
The performances and creative vision behind this production are simultaneously intriguing and stunning. Stone/Castro has done it again, and this is surely one of the highlights of the 2016 Adelaide Festival and an absolute standout production by local South Australian talent.
Paul Rodda
When: 7 to 13 Mar
Where: State Opera Studio
Bookings: adelaidefestival.com.au
