★★★★☆ A challenging work of emotional agility set against a backdrop political upheaval.

Red Sitch Actors Theatre, Melbourne,
March 19, 2016

Those who like their theatre to be a quick fix of light entertainment might lose patience with the latest production of Red Stitch Theatre’s 2016 season, but for those willing to stay the course, this Australian premiere of Abi Morgan’s Splendour pays dividends. This is a smartly staged, sharply drawn production that quietly seeps into the mind of an audience, keeping our neurones firing long after the final scene.

Today, British playwright Abi Morgan is a seasoned pro, working largely in film and television: among her long list of TV and movie credits is the Margaret Thatcher biopic, The Iron Lady, starring Meryl Streep and the recent hit film Suffragette also starring Streep alongside Carrie Mulligan and Helena Bonham Carter. Written in 2000, Splendour is one of Morgan’s early theatre works, but it reveals an enduring fascination, mirrored in her more recent screen successes, with the fickle dynamics of power and the people (often women) behind the politics.

Set in the presidential palace of some unidentified Balkan state, Micheleine (Belinda McClory) is the first lady to a violent dictator. A foreign photojournalist, Kathryn (Rosie Lockhart) accompanied by Gilma (Olivia Monticciolo), a scruffy yet wiley, locally sourced interpreter (with a talent for petty theft), have come to take a picture of this woman and her tyrant. Micheleine’s best friend, Genevieve (Olga Makeeva), is summoned when the President fails to arrive as planned for the photo shoot.

The delay is explained away as a typical hold-up, and this odd quartet of women pass the time during the ensuing hours with awkward small talk and forced civility. However, as the glow of revolution’s fire appears on the horizon and the sounds of gunfire and explosions creep ever closer, the stark, dangerous reality of their situation warps this mundane scenario into something life altering – or perhaps even life ending.

On its own, there’s plenty of dramatic meat on the bones of this narrative, but Morgan has pushed this text beyond the linear to construct a far more cerebral exploration of these four characters. The internal monologue of each woman is revealed, adding detail and insight that would feel unnatural if merely shoehorned into conventional spoken exchanges.

The role of language is also upended. Kathryn is unable to speak the local dialect, so her perception of the situation is informed by her photographer’s eye for detail while her interpreter filters and edits the meaning of conversations to her own advantage. These cultural and linguistic barriers provide a neat metaphor for the external walls we erect to prevent our internal vulnerabilities from coming into view.

Even more inspired is Morgan’s shifting emotional perspectives. Scenes repeat and stutter back and forth, each time offering a different prism to amplify our understanding of apparently innocuous moments. A seemingly ordinary phone call becomes a chilling verbal assault; a dreary painted landscape on the wall is revealed as an act of defiant protest; a decades-old friendship is, in fact, a cold war of bitter attrition.

As if adjusting the levels on a mixing desk, particular points on the emotional spectrum are abruptly brought to the fore, exposing the unfiltered confessions of long-held secrets and painful memories. As a device, it’s a stroke of technical brilliance, but this jumbled narrative flow, intercut with fragments of inner voices and distorted emotional abstractions can be somewhat confusing.

This play rations out its revelations, waiting until the final denouement to fully unveil its point, and even then, our drifting perception of these four characters, as we slowly comprehend the truth of their lives, leaves us questioning the justice of their fates. There’s also a faint hum of disappointment in the predictability of this cadence, although it’s the way Morgan plays with this story’s arc, rather than its narrative conclusions, that make this play so rewarding.

Also satisfying is the superb level of detail Red Stitch’s cast brings to this account, not least because the palette of emotions each character is required to master is so uneven. McClory shows arresting control, moving through polite disdain and condescension to desperate fear and finally defiant resignation. There is a rare level of depth and complexity achieved in this portrayal that is capable of provoking both pity and revulsion while simultaneously retaining an anchored sense of consistency.

Makeeva brings more subtlety to her delivery of Genevieve, but this is nonetheless a powerful performance. There is a strained, weathered quality that is allowed to gradually bloom, offering an interesting stability to counterpoint the rapid-fire peaks and troughs of McClory’s Micheleine.

Olivia Monticciolo’s Gilma takes longer to warm to, but the small ripples of comic relief offered by this character’s kleptomania provides a welcome disturbance to the anxious surface tension of this play. As the hardened, intransigent photojournalist, Rosie Lockhart is burdened with the most hackneyed character, but a sudden moment of jolting pathos in the play’s final moments repays our patience with this role.

Such a meticulously paced text requires an equally meticulous approach and Director Jenny Kempp has had to be forensic in the construction of her production. Tiny details matter in this claustrophobic world and the repetition of certain moments also needs to follow a strict continuity, but Kempp hasn’t shied away from this level of precision.

The relatively modest confines of the Red Stitch Actors Theatre is ideally suited to this text, heightening the sense of penned-in captivity. Thanks to a truly accomplished sound design by Russell Goldsmith and sophisticated yet unobtrusive lighting by Rachel Burke, there is a tangible sense of the destruction outside fast approaching. In many respects, Splendour is a play that demands a great deal from an audience, but this production is well worth the effort.


Red Stitch Theatre Company present Splendour, at the Red Stitch Actors Theatre, St Kilda, until April 16.

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