by David Williamson. State Theatre Company South Australia. Dunstan Playhouse. 24 Sep 2024
The slightest interest in taking a lifestyle cruise is utterly neutered when one sees David Williamson’s new play, The Puzzle.
What a tedious bunch of shallow and entitled losers our most celebrated playwright has created in the name of contemporary Australian comedy.
Yes. The play is diverting, a sort of boulevard comedy, if you will. There are a couple of ripper good lines.
But its premise is tawdry.
The theme has it that wife swapping can be fun. Or not.
In itself, wife swapping is old hat. Leaning back into the 1960s when it was all the go, newspaper classifieds abounded with ads for “broadminded couples” and ensuing suburban parties featured spinning bottles or keys in a jar. There used to be an organisation called Wife Swappers International. Well, if Williamson is right, this same demographic now spends a lot of money hanging up pineapple symbols to swap partners on speciality cruise ships. And the thrill of it all is hit or miss.
As is the play.
It is not possible to shock audiences with sex anymore. Even the multi-generational polyamorous sex as bragged by the play’s young “Unicorn” character barely raises an eyebrow.
Interestingly, Williamson sidesteps gender-neutral and non-binary issues in this new sexy romp. Even homosexual sex doesn’t get a look-in. It’s about horny squares, two married couples getting it off on a luxury lifestyle cruise. They’re professionals, heading for forty and lacking only a surfeit of orgasms in their successful lives. There’s some interesting current-affairs banter over pre-swap margaritas in the bar and there are several arguments about the value of cerebral fulfilment versus libidinous gratification - the good old Williamson bourgeois interactions we’ve come to know and love. So, there’s a bit of meat on the bone of the great man's new, maybe last play.
But, if one’s looking for meat, this production has pure, glorious, unadulterated beefcake in the form of Chris Asimos as Brian. Not only is he impeccably ripped but also, he is a talented and, in this case, a deliciously comic South Australian actor. He’s outstanding in an outstandingly good professional cast. Anna Lindner partners him as luscious, libidinous Michelle. She’s pin-up gorgeous and she’s equipped with exquisite reactive stage skills. Beloved Nathan O’Keefe is the weedy but needy one among these erotic blooms, an odd podcast-loving catalyst to the play’s dramatic machinations. Partnering him is voluptuous Ansuya Nathan who delivers the ultimate cultural feel-good in torrents of erudition straight from the heart. The wise wife. It’s a strong, committed performance.
Ahunim Abebe, sylph-like with a glory of long, black braids, plays Cassie, the figure of utterly-not-innocent youth. Her character flies blithely on the zeitgeist of modern multi-love which comes as a bit of a surprise to her dear old dad, Drew. Erik Thomson artfully eats that stage persona for dinner in an adorable performance. The audience falls in love with him. He is our everyman in that weird salacious eyrie, and, in a rather heavy-handed but ultimately aesthetic titular metaphor, he’s diligently engaged on a jigsaw.
The production values are, as ever with State, exemplary. Shannon Rush’s direction creates a zippy pace with characters flitting across the set almost credibly as on a cruise ship. And it’s that gifted stage designer Ailsa Paterson who creates the ship in a vast spread of an oceanic texture backdrop behind two cabins, a bar, a lounge , a sun deck and, heaven help us, a tropical balcony on the side. With Mark Shelton’s perceptive lighting, it is an extremely pleasing world to behold. Andrew Howard’s sound adds some boppy scene changes with Mark Oakley popping up helpful timelines such as “previous day” and “morning after” on the stateroom cabin’s big screen.
The Puzzle is all a bit of a frisky caper on a tired old theme. Williamson has enabled the plot to be not too predictable. And, while the play evokes a few guffaws, ’tis the titillating stuff of general titters.
Samela Harris
Note: One does not usually describe actors’ bodies in contemporary theatre criticism but in the case of a play about sexy players, one may make an exception.
When: 24 Sep to 12 Oct
Where: Dunstan Playhouse
Bookings: statetheatrecompany.com.au
