NEVER HAVE I EVER

By VICTORIA LAURIE

June 20 2025

NEVER HAVE I EVER, Heath Ledger Theatre, Black Swan Theatre, Perth, 14 June to 6 July 2025. Photography by J Grant: above - Deep Sroa, Emily Rose Brennan, Ratidzo Mambo, and Will O'Mahony

BY VICTORIA LAURIE (first published by Seesaw, Perth)

Watching Never Have I Ever brought back memories of a London dinner party I attended with the wealthy host pitting his unwitting guests against each other. It was like watching an aggressive tennis match – lob and volley of nasty comments over the plates, all gleefully manipulated by the man we later nicknamed “the rich arsehole.”

The Brits have traditionally been good at divide and rule – you’re upper, middle, or lower class depending on your school, birth, and income. Deborah Frances-White, a celebrated Australian podcaster of The Guilty Feminist who lives in the UK (and flew into Perth for opening night) has clearly witnessed the “gladiatorial theatre sport” (her description) of the dinner party set. But in her debut play, the weaponry is updated, and no one is immune – one is judged as being too woke, too hetero, too rich and white, or too privileged and black.

In a private restaurant gathering of four friends, they unsheath all these weapons in a war that shatters friendships and marriage. My nervous response to the feud between Tobin (Will O’Mahoney), his wife Adaego (Ratidzo Mambo), their friend Jacq (Emily Rose Brennan) and her husband Kas (Deep Sroa) was that I might find myself stuck in another arsehole’s circus with no way out. 

It turned out to be unjustified fear. Once the foursome had limbered up, the performance roared along like a high-octane car. Under Black Swan’s artistic director Kate Champion, and over two hours and 10 minutes, the two couples start with brittle civility and end in an alcohol-fuelled contest.

The actors are perfectly cast and compete strongly for attention – O’Mahoney radiates rakish charm and sordid intent as Tobin, the hip banker who initially shrugs off the news that his major stake in his friends’ bistro has disappeared into bankruptcy. Mambo’s Adaego, Tobin’s much younger wife, is pert and indignant, and Brennan is all heart and hard work as failed restaurateur Jacq.

The playwright skewers cultural trends that make for witty dialogue – Jacq’s restaurant is proudly “tweezer-free” yet her unfussy bistro food has failed. Tobin boasts that he altruistically declined the offer of a TED talk slot on the basis that “it’s 15 minutes where a woman can be doing the talking”. Yeah right. Dark-skinned Adaego smarts over being mistaken for a maid at a posh party yet discloses a “mile high” sex encounter during her first-class plane flight. The banker’s wife proclaims wearily, “I just don’t like money.”

Making his stage debut, Deep Sroa is impressive in the tricky role of Kas, a migrant who has habitually had to placate everyone around him. He declares Tobin to be “a bit of a knob” for proposing a ruthless transaction involving sex in return for his lost investment. That the other three, especially Jacq, even countenance the idea leaves one wondering if their moral compasses have spun off-kilter in a forcefield of bewildering grievances.

This seems to be playwright Frances-Smith’s point – that the world has descended into a series of competing cults in which each side shouts the other down. Hardcore racism and homophobia are obvious and legitimate targets, but more trivial slights tend to polarise groups that should be united against far bigger threats. And persistent victimhood can be bad for you.

These themes are hinted at by Kas – formerly eager-to-please, now livid - when he delivers his own impromptu TED talk from a tabletop. Curiously, the opening night audience broke into applause, as if his angry plea for commonsense was a welcome respite from serial point-scoring around identity politics. The wordy scenes are dramatically punctuated by blackouts and shooting red flares from the cooktops that hint at flambé cooking, or arson perhaps? (Lighting by Lucy Birkinshaw.) Set and costume designer Bryan Woltjen’s eye-catching set works brilliantly, a slick London eatery with expensive-looking fixtures and – visible below-stage - an expansive wine cellar that doubles as a place for secret liaisons.

Also notable is composer and sound designer Rachel Dease’s mood-setting soundscape, including audio reworkings of compositions by Britney Spears, Black Eyed Peas, and Alicia Keyes. Never Have I Ever’s themes of abuse of power and privilege aren’t everyone’s theatre fare, just like dinner parties. But this show is pacy, amusing, and brilliantly performed.