Ruben Guthrie
Ruben Guthrie, Belvoir St Downstairs, April 18-May 11; ph: 9699 3444 or www.belvoir.com.au
Ruben Guthrie is a very black comedy about what one of its characters describes as: Australia “the alcoholic country”. It’s so obvious and so true and so simple once said out loud, but the frisson of recognition and realisation that ran through the opening night audience suggests none of us had ever heard it put so succinctly before.
After mucking about being a talented but potential-wrecking enfant terrible for a tiresomely long time, Brendan Cowell seems to have decided to take himself (and us) seriously at last. He’s always been a fine actor: most recently for instance, 2007’s award-winning movie Noise for which he picked up at least one best actor ornament; but his writing has tended to be an infuriating mix of exhilarating and airily careless.
In Ruben Guthrie he has finally written a play of real substance and craft and its serious intent is underlined by the lashing humour that holds it together. How better to depict the unpalatable truth if not by enticing your audience to laugh?
Ruben (Toby Schmitz) is a very modern, very typical Australian hero: he’s 29 and the creative director of a top ad agency; he has money, prize-winning ideas and praise coming out of his ears. He’s cool, he’s sexy, he’s desired by all. He has a gorgeous young Czech supermodel fiancee (Samantha Reed), a devoted gay pal (Torquil Neilson), a doting boss (Christopher Stollery), loving mum (Tracy Mann) and a crusty, boozy dad (Lex Marinos). What more could he want?
Answer: to do something about his out-of-control consumption of booze and party drugs. The play opens with Ruben explaining to the audience (his companions at an AA meeting) how he happens to be there after being released from hospital following an industry awards party. Essentially, he decided he could fly and had launched himself off the rooftop of the party venue to prove it.
As well as some extremely funny writing, there are moments of great beauty and imagination and one of these is given to Ruben as he explains – with yearning conviction – the wonder and pleasure of those brief moments of flight. Toby Schmitz sustains a marvellous performance as Ruben: part boy, part man; part smart-arse and part tragic. He convinces as the charming, charismatic superbrat and is equally persuasive as the unconsciously fearful fledgling adult who has glimpsed the future and doesn’t like it.
Wayne Blair’s direction is judicious and clear; most notably he has reined in Schmitz’s tendency to Jim Carreyism and the result is immensely watchable and credible. The same goes for the rest of the cast who inhabit and negotiate the tricky little Downstairs space (decorated wittily with many bottles of expensive hooch by Jacob Nash and effectively lit by Luiz Pampolha).
Ruben’s plight turns out to be a very Australian one: he is killing himself with alcohol. In truth, he believes he cannot do his (creative) job nor bear his life without it. It’s not until his young fiancee suddenly grows up, realises he’s no longer cutely funny, but an acute pain and packs her bags, that another kind of reality looms for Ruben.
With utmost reluctance he starts the “steps” towards addressing his alcoholism (not that it’s a word that passes his lovely lips) and this brings Virginia (Megan Drury) into his life. Virginia is Ruben’s hippy-dippy, scented candle co-dependent in disguise and the character with whom Cowell has had the most (wicked) fun.
What Ruben Guthrie illustrates however is the fear-filled attitude of drinkers towards the abstainer. His father berates him for being “un-Australian” when Ruben asks for mineral water rather than a beer; Damian – the best mate who loves him more than is seemly – is no better, virtually seducing him with with a lascivious attitude towards the booze. In scenes where laughter peters out as the audience is made to see how this behaviour is all too common, Ruben is virtually force-fed the substances he is so desperately trying to eschew, by his nearest and dearest, all in the name of social acceptability.
It would be shocking if it were not so commonplace. Nevertheless, Cowell and Blair maintain the forward momentum of fairly consistent comedy to keep us well-oiled and traveling with Ruben. It’s finely constructed, beautifully realised, meaningful, highly entertaining and deserves to be a big hit. And you can be sure the Belvoir bar sales will be up during its run: with so much grog sloshing around and being consumed with such awful gusto, the only thought on exiting the theatre is “god, I need a drink.” Welcome to Straya.
