Disorder in Court
It’s the hottest ticket to the hottest show in town – and David Spicer scored the very best seat – on stage in full Judge’s regalia. He reports on what it's like to watch the Sydney Festival’s production of Model Murder from the bench.
The immersive theatre season of Model Murder – staged in a real-life court room in Darlinghurst - is so sold out that you can’t even reserve a standby ticket!
Imagine my luck to be invited to the final dress rehearsal and securing a premium ticket in the jury box. I received a tip that a member of the jury is chosen to be the judge, and as luck would have it, I was drafted to become part of the show in a very significant way.
A member of the cast tapped me on the shoulder to go behind the bench, where I was given a judge’s robes and wig to preside over the satirical re-enactment of the trial of “glamour model” Sheila Beiger.
The case is a real one.
In 1954 Sheila Beiger pointed a gun at her bookie’s clerk boyfriend, Arthur Griffith, in front of Chequers, one of Sydney’s ritziest nightclubs. Arthur was there with another woman. She told Police the gun went off by accident.
The murder trial was a media sensation, and very reminiscent of the type of cases that inspired the musical Chicago.
The courtroom romp has dollops of singing, tap dancing on desks and razzamatazz lighting. The dialogue given to the Prosecutor and Defence are said to be lifted from the actual trial which took place in the very same court complex – just a few doors up.
Adding to the authenticity of the experience, you have to go through airport type security to get into the court in case someone smuggles in a weapon, and hides it in the court room ahead of a real trial resuming in February.
Audience members in the jury box wear a hat and moustache because all jurors were male at the time. On the other side, audience members put on a headscarf to resemble female court watchers.
My selection was a bit of history for the Sydney Festival. This was my second appearance in a court room production for the Festival, as I was lucky enough to be in the chorus of Trial by Jury in the Police and Justice museum when Leo Schofield ran the show.
I had also spent many weeks in the same court room at the trial of murderer Phuong Ngo when I worked at the ABC.
The MC mentioned that journalists carved their initials in the bench over the years, and I think there is evidence of my initials in the vicinity. Imagine my surprise that a Judge may also have joined this disorderly tradition. Initials are also carved in the judge’s bench. Just one though, starting with the letter M.
I was given a few pieces of paper to read out during the show, but apart from that I was left to my own devices.
Taking full advantage of the situation I went into amateur actor mode. I stood with theatrical effect to deliver pronouncements with a deep judge’s voice. I banged on the gavel when appropriate. “Order in court.”
At one stage the barristers asked me about whether the jury should be shown a picture of the dead boyfriend with a bullet in his head. There was nothing in my script to respond and I was half tempted to stand up and ad lib a response.
This might be a good opportunity for the cast to practise what to do when a member of the audience goes rogue and hijacks the narrative.
But then the thought crossed my mind that a certain producer, who has the same surname as me, might kill me – so I stayed there sitting at the bench and nodded attentively.
A very dangerous moment happened soon after when actress Blazey Best approached the bench and wiggled her cleavage at close proximity.
Dangerous because my wife was sitting in the jury box just metres way. Thinking on my feet I gesticulated that I would keep my eyes looking straight ahead and not sideways, earning what some consider to be the loudest laugh of the performance. (I am far too modest to report that after the production a few members of the audience were surprised to discover that I was a ring-in and not a member of the cast.)
It did all go to my head, but Sydney Festival Executive Director Chris Tooher made me come crashing back to earth by declining my request for payment.
The punch-line of the production is the verdict, then I was given an appropriate round of applause with the paid members of the cast.
Most fascinating is that Sheila Berger disappeared to Melbourne after the trial and she may still be alive. Surely the Sydney Festival could find her a ticket if she turns up?
Read more about the Sydney Festival.
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