This Storm
Three short plays; three miniature, rough-hewn gems; three frightening perspectives on what the future in Australia may hold…The Cusack Theatre probably makes any piece of drama it showcases into a work of intensity, but This Storm is a superlatively-crafted piece of writing, under any circumstances, and its staging is enhanced by stunning performances, effectively spartan design, and an outstanding soundtrack.
The scene-setting first story (Small Government) is perhaps the most overtly theatrical, but it never falls into the trap of feeling falsely contrived or artificially schematic. Rachel Burke plays a prattling ‘average citizen’ full of complaints to make and causes to fight; Patrick Klavins is the singularly unhelpful official, given to dispensing his own brutal brand of advice (he manages to make the word “billboard” sound positively monstrous).
These two characters’ exchanges at first seem like a fairly typical satire on the venerable theme of bureaucracy, but Brooker goes deeper - and scarier - than this; the dialogue is laced with discomforting, blackly humorous physical detail that paints a vivid picture of post-modern malaise, confusion, and frustration. There is next-to-no faith here in the ability of a future government to achieve any worthwhile goals – and even less faith in the power of the police. This playwright seems to be suggesting that in This Storm’s brave new world, innocence will be no defence against what’s coming – and that it may, in fact, be worse than guilt.
In the pointedly-titled Point/Click, Tamara Lee and Michael Allen are presented as a genuinely plausible pair of life partners; the major difference being that life here is no longer as we know it. Brooker’s surrealist verbal imagery here (such as the eating of decidedly inedible objects) is successfully – and simultaneously – funny and mordant. Overall, this segment is more naturalistic in its delivery than the opener; perhaps this is the reason it feels ever-so-slightly less arresting, but it is also more warmly and identifiably human, creating a most satisfactory balance as the show progresses.
In the wake of one character’s assertion that “fear of death is the most powerful natural aphrodisiac”, Lee’s attempt to wordlessly express her own desires is both priceless and hilarious – but Brooker mercilessly twists the knife in us to close the segment, with an incredibly poignant depiction of bewildered isolation, of calling into the void…
The closing third – Dead Birds – is virtually a monologue, with Allen once again doing a sterling job, and this time carrying the production home in powerful style. Its evocation of the grief process, presented in a manner that is more amiable than harrowing, simply increases the impact of the tragic tale – though humour is still present, most notably in the wacky idea of a ‘fire app’. The phrase “military-age males” has never seemed sadder than it does here…This reviewer was screwing his eyes shut tight; partly to hold back the tears, and partly in a vain attempt to simply hold back the inevitability of the events in front of him – but Brooker’s brilliant writing demands that we face the future and bear it, whatever may come. It is a concluding message as hopeful and determined as it is devastating.
Rare it is to find a piece of work at the Fringe Festival that leaves you breathless with admiration. This Storm is it.
Anthony Vawser
Other Adelaide Fringe 2016 Reviews
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