Down the line

11 April 2017

A review in three parts, by Kate Wyver 


Pelicans have a long beak and large pouch. They use the pouch to catch prey and water, and scoop up the contents before swallowing. The skeleton is only 1/10th of the weight of the pelican.
There’s a white box. There’s a white door radiating light that divides her from her neighbour. It is visually arresting, and used cleverly to divide sections throughout, but this set is, rather lazily, almost an exact copy of the original production several years ago. There’s a white chair. It make a satisfying bang when you hit it against the ground in a fit of emotional distress to accent a life crisis.
The delicacy with which Anna (Steph Sarratt) scatters about the stage makes it hard to resist jumping up onstage to wrap her up in a blanket. She struggles to recognise what her body needs. She can only see it when she has to look after another. She grabs a hold of hearts and doesn’t let go. When it snows and she leaps for the phone and it falls slowly, the flakes settling around her, it is joyous. Rebecca (Annie Davison) is caring and careless and reckless and anxious. When she pushes the glass further into her face as her body is stuck against the floor, she winces and her pain is palpable. Matt Dormer tries to tap into the difficulty of fitting into a new skin as Sam. Given Sunday’s group discussion, and the conversations around representation, inclusion and diversity, is it right/OK/acceptable/noteworthy that Sam is played by a cis man? Can/should representation be bypassed for a student show, or should the same standards apply?
She is wild and scared and angry and fragile. We hope she’s okay. She is lost and heartbroken and healing slowly and scared and fierce. He is bold and scared and fresh and trying.

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Photo credit: Aenne Pallasca