W
W, New Ghosts Theatre Company at the Old Fitz Theatre, 31 May-14 June 2026. Photography by Phil Erbacher
The trickily-titled W opens with one of the most imaginative and brilliant soundscapes to be heard in any Sydney theatre in a long time. Close your eyes, and sound designer Clare Hennessy has transformed the Old Fitz into a vast stadium, awash with the echoing roar of an excited crowd and the thunderous bass of pre-game music. By the time the match – sorry – play begins, the audience is fully primed for the visceral theatre of footie. It’s thrilling.
The rest of the creative team behind the onstage footie team is remarkable: Luna Yet Yee Ng’s lighting design complements Hennessy’s sound and adds layers of meaning and atmosphere – the unkind dressing room glare reeks of liniment and sweat. As the crowd we’re pinned in our seats by a bank of floodlights; then, there’s the tenebrous disappointment of loss, on the oval and off as the women’s lives unfold.
The setting is the dressing room where Meg Anderson’s lockers and benches are, by turns comforting, uncaring and ready to scrape a shin. It’s littered with a forgotten dumbbell, drink bottles, lost socks, strapping tape and Blu-tacked reminders of home, family, exercises and inspiration, and is richly human.
Within their domain, the players switch from idle chatter to dynamic play, through the subtle placing of balletic freezes, plays caught mid-punt, and the physical banter that’s part loving, part antagonistic is the contribution of movement director Poppy Lynch.
As well as the consummate creative team, the onstage team assembled and coached by director Rachel Chant could well set her up for the Hampson-Hardeman Cup as each player ebbs and flows in possession and loss of their life moments, in the shape of the red Sherrin ball.
Madelaine Nunn’s new play is 90 minutes of non-stop action, in the dressing room, on the oval, in training, and in the minds of five members of an unnamed blue and orange-clad team whose guernseys, trackies and civvies tell of their status in the League and in their everyday lives (costumes: Aloma Barnes Siraswar). The Grand Final is this team’s dream; the nightmares before them are many and varied, including the eyes-like-flame-throwers and tongue to match, coach Sue (Danielle Cormack). She is rendered human mostly by her interactions with Shannon Ryan as Rosie, the team captain and the one whose understanding of uncertain futures, ruthless reality, volatile players and irascible Sue makes her a central figure. Hers is a performance of moving depth and understated pathos that resonates long after the final siren.
Each of her teammates: Celeste Cortes-Davis as Casey, Edyll Ismail as Bee, Ally Morgan – Brigid, and Grace Smibert – Alex, brings different elements of womanhood, drama, story and sport to the overarching world of professional football. We know there will be injuries, disappointments, triumphs, betrayals, babies, and all the pleasures and pain of being at the pointy end of late capitalism.
If you’re not into sport in general, or AFL in particular, don’t make the mistake of turning your nose up at W. This play is about modern life and a group of young women trying to live it. These are working women whose jobs are a bit unusual. Whose workplaces are a gym, a large grass patch and a stadium. They just happen to be elite athletes, and their tools are a prolate spheroid ball and studded boots.
Unlike most women, they are prey to media scrutiny, unfettered trolling, racism and sexism. They are prone to injury, and they live in the shadow of knowing that a torn ACL or busted knee could end their jobs and ambitions. It makes for a lot of bawdy behaviour, laugh-out-loud humour, ferocious language, a ceremonial unveiling of a new Brazilian and the eye-opening truths of the price they pay for success. Never mind the much higher price of failure or bad luck.
W is an absorbing, funny, occasionally shocking and rarely less than all-out and full-on in its dive into a life and workplace that didn’t exist before 15 September 2016. Laugh and gasp, and be moved by the unexpected.
