Strange attractor
Strange Attractor, Griffin Theatre Company at the SBW Stables Theatre, in association with Riverside Productions; October 23-November 21; Lennox Theatre, Riverside Parramatta24 -28 November, 2009
SUE SMITH is one of a handful of really fine writers for television who’s stayed the distance since Brides of Christ (with John Alsop) back in 1991, to her most recent success, Bastard Boys (2007). Turning to theatre is a bold or fabulously crazy move at this point in her career, you might think. Her first play, Thrall, was produced by Tamarama Rock Surfers at the Old Fitzroy in 2006 and was well received. (Google Stephen Dunne’s review in the SMH if you want a succinct and well-written idea of what it was like.)
Like Thrall, her latest is also set in the tougher side of WA. Instead of Kalgoorlie, this time it’s the Pilbara and an iron ore mine. When the company’s troubleshooter arrives from Perth, a small crew of workers is forced to relive the fatal night of a cyclone. His intent is to absolve the company of blame and find a scapegoat. That he also might stumble upon truths and other unwanted hidden elements is by the by.
Director Nick Marchand has assembled a great cast and the play fairly hums on the strength of it. As Colin, the smoothly reptilian and indefinably unpleasant visiting executive, Darren Gilshenan (pictured) moves about as far from his customary sweet, crazy clown persona as could be imagined. It is a cast against type that works gloriously. Apparently Gilshenan wanted to stretch and get away from comedy for a bit – and he is shudder-makingly fine in the role.
Up against him in more ways than one is his old friend and one-time colleague Taipan (Peter Kowitz); whose bruised and battered cynicism is not a tough enough carapace to protect him from his own basic decency, when the time demands it. By way of contrast, the essence of toughness seems to be embodied in Truckie (Blazey Best). She’s a working class woman and single mother whose heart is on her sleeve, nevertheless, but whose leathery meanness is the more-butch-than-butch persona many women adopt when they find themselves in the perilous position of being the female in a gang of blokes.
Chilli (Ivan Donato), the bartender in the rat hole company mess where the action takes place, is a young Chilean on a fragile working visa. His wife and children are back in Santiago and he learns Mandarin in preparation for the next dominant culture while dreaming of bringing his family to Australia. Donato is a telling foil for the crass, unthinking ruggedness of his customers; and the cultural gap that yawns between them is realised in the Bundy bottle that’s fought over and gradually emptied as the night unfolds.
Josh McConville (in thumbnail pic) as the young and stupid Rube is a mesmerising presence, even in this company. He thrums with barely suppressed rage and bewilderment and when these curdle into guilt and fear, it’s wonderfully terrible to watch; the outcome is inevitable. At the other end of the emotional scale is Gus (Sandy Winton) whose disingenuous demeanour of sweetness, calm and all round niceness is all the more ironic because he is the catalyst or cause of disaster for each of the others; and he’s dead when the play opens. This is not a secret, by the way, indeed if you don’t figure it out quickly you might be rather puzzled.
Colin is investigating the death, which happened accidentally during the night of a category 4 cyclone. During the course of his inquiries a lot of unwanted stuff is unearthed and haphazardly reburied. Some is personal, some is technical and all of it is potentially disastrous for each person. As the storm gradually strengthens outside the tin shed mess, its imminent danger reflects the human vulnerablilities and moral turmoil that are gradually revealed.
A strange attractor can be either awful or beautiful, depending on whether you’re looking at a Jackson Pollock or towards the eye of a storm. The choices given and made by the crew also suggest it can be fatal if misconstrued.
Designer Jo Briscoe on her last Griffin set before leaving for Melbourne, has conjured an unkind and likely place out of tin and cheap café accoutrements, lit harshly or dramatically by Bernie Tan and given an extra layer of menace and atmosphere by composer/sound designer Steve Francis. Between them, and with Marchand’s clear direction, they showcase one of the best ensembles to be gathered on a Sydney stage this year that also features stand-out performances.
Smith's script works well and sparely to tell the multiple story and time strands; and the characters and place are richly drawn. There is a five-minute sag at about the 35-40-minute mark, when repetition and marking time occurs and the forward momentum grinds to a halt. It quickly picks up again though and the collective boot stomps on the accelerator, powering this 90-minute drama with wry and rusty laughs to its inevitable and tragic climax. A very satisfying night in the theatre.
