Reviewed by Barry Lenny, Friday 28th January 2022.
The State Theatre Company of South Australia had to postpone its September/October 2021 production of
Edward Albee's 1962 classic,
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, now bringing it to the stage ahead of the 2022 season.
A sign of the times. A normal State Theatre opening night is a jam-packed affair. These, though, are not normal times, sadly, and people are staying at home to avoid catching COVID, resulting in many empty seats. The virus had other effects. Annoyingly, the doors were locked and not opened for some time, leaving patrons standing outside in the hot sun, with no seating, no shade, and no water. In keeping with government regulations and advice, there was the usual logging in using a QR code, and the requirement to show proof of being double vaccinated. Masks, of course, had to be worn at all times. Better safe than sorry.
Following her father's Saturday night drinks party, Martha, played by
Susan Prior, and her husband, George, Played by Jimi Bani, Associate Professor in History, invite new Mathematics lecturer, Nick, played by Rashidi Edward, and his wife, Honey, played by Juanita Navas-Nguyen, back to their place for more drinks. They do so at the insistence of Martha's father, the President of the New Carthage college; He, who must be obeyed. The effects of alcohol show early, as George had already forgotten that the newcomers were about to arrive and he hopes that, being 2am, they would not turn up, but they do. Through their alcoholic haze, he and Martha had also both missed the fact that Nick was actually in the Biology faculty, not Maths. Before they arrive, though, George and Martha begin their ritual antagonistic interplay.
The first act, Fun and Games, proves to be very little fun for any of them, and the mind-games that George and Martha play, rapidly escalate into all-out psychological warfare, complete with approaching drums at the end of the act. Psychiatrist,
Eric Berne, developer of Transactional Analysis and author of the psychology book, Games People Play, published in 1964, would have had a field day with this lot.
The second act,
Walpurgisnacht, sees Nick and Honey dragged into the game-playing and heavy drinking. Honey is quickly overcome by the effects of brandy, racing to the bathroom to throw up and pass out on the floor. Both George and Martha use Nick as a weapon in their battle with the other.Walpurgisnacht, or Saint Walpurgis Night, also known as Saint Walpurga's Eve, is the evening of the Christian feast day of Saint Walpurga, an 8th-century abbess in Francia, and is celebrated on the night of 30 April and the day of 1 May. Before it was usurped by the Church, though, it was the Pagan Sabbat, Beltane, and witches were supposed to fly to a meeting at an appointed destination. There is nothing Christian transpiring here in the ways in which George and Martha treat their guests.
In the final act, The Exorcism, George turns to another game, one inadvertently mentioned by Martha, but which is supposed to be private, kept as a secret between only the two of them. His final game is the game to end all games, a game that can only ever be played once, and we discover why all of the others have been regularly played. Nick and Honey finally go home, leaving George and Martha to reconcile, and a peace descends.
The first act seemed slow, flat, and much on one level. I saw actors acting, rather than the characters. Prior's initial performance reminded me of a line by Grytpype-Thinne, from an episode of the Goon Show; "I see you specialise in false laughter". It was not until the second act that it all seemed to get off the ground and develop into a more believable production. Too often, this play is presented as little more than one long shouting match, but that has been avoided here, with the vicious and angry exchanges interspersed with quieter moments, a more subtle approach. In the second and third acts the four performers make a stronger connection with their characters, and believable interchanges and emotions emerge, with plenty of light and shade appearing.
Each of the four establishes a thoughtful interpretation of their character and contributes well to the ensemble work, with some noticeably intricate work from Navas-Nguyen, as the naïve and sensitive Honey, a difficult role, with minimal dialogue, demanding considerable non-verbal participation.
Writing this review took a great degree of reflection on the production. Director, Margaret Harvey, has attempted, she says, to bring the play into 21st century Australia, and expand its scope by the means of a multicultural cast, and by avoiding any attempt at American accents. It works to a degree, particularly in the multicultural aspects, highlighting white privilege and the spurious historical claims of supremacy, but the script, however, firmly roots the play in 1960s America in so very many ways.
It was an interesting concept and a brave move, but it left me with a feeling of disconnect between the two locations and eras that really didn't gel into a coherent whole. I found myself viewing it as an academic exercise in updating and relocating that didn't really convince. It would probably have taken considerable rewriting for it to work more convincingly, but that is impossible at this stage as it is still under the inflexible control of Albee's estate. That said, however, it is an intriguing idea, and this production is well-worth seeing for the attempt to expand its horizons.
Ailsa Paterson's set has blackboards to the rear and sides, covered in chalk inscriptions, mostly the title of the play, but including a few others, not all in English, and a couple of drawings. Within this is a raised centre section surrounded by a moat, reminiscent of Opera Australia's Madama Butterfly. At the start, there is a framework, suggesting walls and doors, with an artistic centrepiece, an ugly sculpture replacing the abstract painting referred to in the script, and a small selection of furniture, all in white. Bit by bit, this framework is removed, ending the play with a bare stage for the final act, apart from the statue. The effective, generally harsh lighting design, by
Nigel Levings, shows his usual acute level of understanding of the play, and
Andrew Howard's sound design adds extra effect to the tension.
This is one of the better productions of this play that I have reviewed over the last three decades (the very best being almost exactly two years ago at Holden Street Theatres), and should both please those familiar with the play, and serve as a good introduction to those to whom it is a new experience.
Photography, Brett Boardman.
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