SUNDAY

By Diana Simmonds

November 2 2024

SUNDAY, Sydney Theatre Company and MTC at the Drama Theatre, Sydney Opera House, 28 October - 7 December 2024. Photography by Prudence Upton: above - Nikki Shiels and Jude Hyland; below - James O’Connell, Shiels and Matt Day; below again - Shiels and Day

The title of Anthony Weigh’s 2023 play signals its intentions. Its focus is Sunday Reed and through her, Heide's genesis, raison d’etre, and fate. That was the name given by Sunday and husband John to the old dairy farm they turned into the fabled home of Modernism on what was then the outskirts of Melbourne.

Sunday runs to two hours and 45 minutes, with interval, yet maintains a tight, captivating focus on her and the main men in her life: John and their most illustrious protege, Sidney Nolan. Led by Nikki Shiels in the title role, the play arrives from its premiere Melbourne Theatre Company run bedecked with many critical stars and (mainly) rave reviews. And it’s easy and thrilling to see why.

The human drama is played out on an empty, framed stage where indices of time and place are temporary (set: Anna Cordingley). A table is carried on, a chair is placed; both are subsequently removed. A wall spins to reveal a softly-lit Heide bedroom, or an elegant window overlooking Collins Street, before disappearing again. On the back wall, a rectangular slit suggests the view from Ned Kelly’s helmet and is variously lit in a Nolan-esque sunset, sunrise, or sky (lighting: Paul Jackson). Above the splash of colours, text appears, white on black, to indicate where and when a scene takes place – handy as progress is not linear.

Within the complex stratification of Melbourne society, Sunday Baillieu was born into the top layer and was expected to stay right there: to marry, to kaffeeklatsch, to tennis, to shop, to bear heirs, and other soul-destroying female activities that equally upper-class John Reed (Matt Day) teases her about. She fascinates him because she’s a changeling – a spirit that will not be tied down or do the conventional or polite thing.

Sunday is also preternaturally acute when it comes to picking art and artists. (Not for her the stultifying poobahs of the Australian Academy of Art, nor its champion and later PM, Mr Menzies.) In the centre of this maelstrom of old versus new is Sunday Reed. Her articulacy and determination are stirring in the opening scenes – as she urges the tram driver’s son Nolan (James O’Connell) to grow a pair and not believe he needs Paris.

There’s much laughter in the first half as the script crackles with snark between Sydney and Melbourne and their opposing cliques. Plus ça change. There’s even more and meatier, however, as the inevitable strictures facing a woman such as Sunday Reed begin to bite. Art is not the only avant-garde aspect of her character and the menage-a-trois between her, Nolan, and John Reed (Matt Day) is only part of the philosophical, artistic, and cultural flowering at Heide.

Among the artists drawn to Sunday’s flame and their money were Albert Tucker (constantly storming off in a rage and therefore omnipresent if not seen), and his wife and fellow artist Joy Hester (ill-served by the script and played valiantly by Ratidzo Mambo). Their son, Sweeney (Jude Hyland) is left with the Reeds when Hester moves to Sydney. Sunday’s first husband gifted her with gonorrhea and a subsequent hysterectomy. She and John adopt the boy and a second and longer-lasting triangle is formed.

Director Sarah Goodes is not only adept at the comedic aspects of this rich drama of historical fiction but also steers the leading trio in a delicate interplay of inner and outer lives. The production is enhanced by an often beautiful – when not menacing – soundtrack (Jethro Woodward). At the same time Harriet Oxley’s costumes of elegant slacks – not trousers – deliciously correct blouses, shirts, jackets, and silky underwear, reek of the era as much as L’ Air du Temps might.

Throughout, Nikki Shiels is constantly, powerfully mesmerising whether she’s handing it to the Establishment or quietly falling apart (when dumped by Nolan). She’s supported with grace and restraint by the rest of the company and Sunday is 140 minutes of engrossing, moving, and illuminating theatre. Not to be missed, and recommended without reservation.