Ruby Moon

Matt Cameron’s play about the isolation of suburbia and the “darker recesses of human nature” (Matt Cameron) is haunting and confronting and, in the macabre manner of black comedy and absurdism, sometimes funny. Because its scenes interconnect and inter-relate, it is important that it be run, as the playwright instructs, “strictly without an interval”.

But I doubt that Mr Cameron ever anticipated that it would be allowed to run for 2hours and ten minutes! And that’s how long this production (which started 20 minutes late because of two groups of latecomers) actually ran on its second night! No audience should be made to sit for that long, on hard seats, watching a play that should run for about 90 minutes. But there we sat, eventually! A full house of mainly Stage 6 school students with a few uni students and an aging reviewer! To give the audience credit, there was only a little restlessness and only one person left, but still …

That being said, young director Sidney Abba has made some interesting theatrical decisions. A sand pit and hanging tyre is used to symbolise suburbia and reduce somewhat the wide acting space of the Lighthouse Theatre stage. Particularly effective is a backlit screen, where Sylvie and Ray Moon (Hanni Trewin and Gus White) transform into the neighbours they visit to enquire, once more, about the day their daughter Ruby disappeared.

Gus White uses this screen skilfully, especially as he transforms to Sid Craven, the pitiful, disillusioned clown. He moves to and fro behind the screen, enlarging, diminishing and finally emerging, twisted and cowering. White comes into his own in this scene, especially as he takes Sylvie through his interview with the police. His characterisation of detectives, reporters and the police dog calls upon all his improvisation experience.

As Sonny Jim, the soldier, he is equally threatening and funny, and pitiful – especially as he gestures Sylvie to sit and listen to his macabre poem, “Mother”. As the inventor, Professor Ogle, he is disturbed, restless almost deranged as he rambles about the ‘black hole’ he has created and those who have ‘disappeared’ through it.

Hanni Trewin is not quite so effective in her character transformations, except as Dulcie and her parrot, where she is fast and funny. Her portrayal of Veronica needs to be more clumsily seductive, more overtly suggestive; her Dawn more introverted, self deprecating and afraid.

However, it is as Sylvie and Ray themselves that both actors are less believable. They speak too slowly. The pauses are far, far too long. The looks between them too drawn out. Sure both characters are depressed, suspicious, guilt ridden. But they know what each evening will bring. They know by heart the game they will play. It happens in households all the time! But by dragging it out, they lose the impact of the relationship and all its problems – and in the process let the tempo of this very well-written play become pedestrian and dreary.

There is much that is good in this production – and that is a credit to the vision of its young director – but her direction of the action needs to be ramped up! Let Ray and Sylvie be more real … and absurd! Let them get at each other, shout now and again, use some variation in volume and pace and pitch.

And get it down to the ‘about 90 minutes’ that is advertised in the foyer!

Carol Wimmer