THE RIVER
THE RIVER, Sydney Theatre Company at the Drama Theatre, Sydney Opera House, 7 April-16 May 2026. Photography by Daniel Boud
Human relationships are a slippery business, and, evidenced here, in Jez Butterworth’s 2012 play The River, so is this drama about slippery humans relating to one another, and to a large sea trout. In the Butterworth chronology, The River falls between what has been described elsewhere as his “signature work”, 2009’s Jerusalem (which means he hasn’t written anything more successful before or since), and 2017’s The Ferryman.
The River was first staged at the Royal Court with Dominic West in the role of The Man, again in 2014 with Paul McGann in that role, and then on Broadway with Hugh Jackman. Actors all capable of making a small thing seem larger. And the same happens in this production with Ewen Leslie as the alpha fishing male, Miranda Otto as The Woman, and Andrea Demetriades as The Other Woman. The actors are riveting. The play, not so much.
It has been described as “puzzling and poetic”, and that just about sums it up: some beautiful, almost mesmerising language, some hypnotic soliloquising, some descaling and gutting of the big fish that happens in real time and therefore at great length, and quite a lot of pretension that seems designed to make the mystified feel stupid.
The curious thing about these 80 minutes of largely plot- and action-free non-drama is that while they feature an undeniably attractive man and two strong, interesting women, they also exude the blokey pong of week-old socks. Perhaps it’s the suggestion of incessant rain and bare, uncomfortable chill in the riverside cabin, designed with brutal minimalism by Anna Tregloan. At the same time, the underlying sense of uncertainty and the suggested proximity of dangerous water, together with the presence of Miranda Otto, conjure memories of Shirley Barrett’s glorious 2010 film South Solitary with its windswept, unhappy loneliness.
Damien Cooper’s lighting subtly adds to the nip and shiver of the shack, while extended, beautifully melancholic piano passages from composer and sound designer Sam Cheng complete an atmosphere that would have most house guests running for the next train back to town to escape a weekend that would make Bear Grylls flinch.
All of this by way of not disclosing much of the activity between the protagonists because its gradual, if nominal reveal is not nearly as interesting as the dead sea trout, but needs to be experienced if anything is to be gained from the play. On the plus side, the cast of three is superb, and for much of the time, it seems to be in a world that has little to do with the play. The natural warmth between The Man and the alternating presence of the two women is palpable, thanks to the actors. It makes the creeping creepiness somewhat disconcerting and lends a static storyline the forward momentum that’s otherwise lacking.
As it is, Otto, Demetriades and Leslie make the very most of what’s on offer character-wise, which almost makes up for the rest. They bring show-saving life to a script in which poetry is at once too much and not enough. Margaret Thanos is a rising directorial star, but her current preoccupation, as set out in her program notes, is with love and lost love, and she doesn’t let go of these two factors for a minute. Thanos could possibly have done us all a favour by going for a bit of all round clarity. To be fair, however, Butterworth’s text is a celebration of obscurity and posturing, so perhaps that’s why so much time and focus were given to the trout and its preparation. Mind you, it must be said that unless you’re familiar with the habits and life cycle of that fish, you’ll learn quite a lot in what seems to be much, much more than 80 minutes.
