Australian poet Nan Witcomb once wrote a remarkable statement which has stuck in my memory from childhood, which I will paraphrase: 'we lock up the crazy to keep them from living the dreams of the sane'.
L'amante Anglaise is a textually labyrinthine, emotionally taut and thematically fraught piece of theatre remounted at fortyfive downstairs after an acclaimed season at La Mama. Inquiring as to the extremes of a relationship where sociopathy and eccentricity exasperate and exacerbate one another to a homicidal degree, the Marguerite Duras' play finds potent ground in contemporary reflections on mental illness and domestic violence.
Laurence Strangio's direction clearly worked the talents of the performers hard, giving little dynamism to the space. Andy Turner's lighting assisted in the piece's sense of discomfort but most technical elements were surrendered, charging the nuance of the text to come through in the emoting of the actors. Robert Meldrum trajected a composed apathy that in the face of such content played equally funny as frightening. His characterisation of logos and mid-1900s patriarchy expertly balanced presumptuousness and awareness of his prejudices. Jillian Murray had more theatrical meat to work with, but did not let that warp her work essentially representing our modern interpretation of mental illness, as being a departure from logic. A refusal to ascribe to systems by which we deem things 'appropriate' or 'right' has often been treated at best with disdain, at worst with incarceration. Murray's performance was truly remarkable for its ability to grip and shake the perceptions possessed of what connotes "crazy". Meldrum and Murray are truly compelling, suspending entertainment for deep and unsettling insight into the mundane mind.
L'amante Anglaise translates to the English lover. One can't help but wonder how the text worked in its original French when the play was written in the sixties. Based on true events, this work is one that will resonate sharply and starkly in audiences.
Tickets available here.
Images by Oscar Strangio.
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