Amy’s Tattoo

It is a well-known aphorism that children and tattoos are both permanent.  Both get under your skin, as does this wonderful play by Alison Mann. Tasmanian playwright Mann, already much awarded, was recently shortlisted for the prestigious Queensland Premier’s drama award. For good reason.

Amy is 42-year-old free-spirited tattoo artist who altruistically donated her eggs as a 20-year-old.  The action unfolds when she meets her son, a young adult who wants a tattoo.  The marks on the skin of both go much deeper and an immediate connection is formed.

The play is a four-hander. The largely open space of the Studio theatre is used effectively with characters interacting in various combinations, delivering monologues of great humour and poignancy, moving around in space and time to revisit the same incident from a different point of view but never in such a way as to confuse the chronology.  Each scene draws the audience more deeply into the inner world of these complex and sympathetic characters. It is a delight to watch such accomplished actors.

Lisa Gormley, as Amy, is perfectly cast as the beautiful, quirky, tattoo artist. There is a loose and vibrant physicality to her performance. She is joyous, tragic, poetic, and naïve. It is easy to see why John is so obsessed by his donor mother played with such charisma and vulnerability by Lisa Gormley.

Matt Newell is relatively new to acting and is making great strides. His depiction of a young adult never jars. He is supported by excellent direction and a script that gets the tone of boy on the cusp of manhood exactly right.

Gabrielle Adkins plays the deeply conflicted police officer who is called in to deal with the fallout from Amy and John’s meeting. Adkins is another consummate actor. Her monologues are riveting and comic timing impeccable. Her story runs in parallel to the other characters for some time, but she is integral to the climax.

Jane Longhurst is always a delight. Unlike Amy in her loose hippy garb, Longhurst as Jane Ward, is buttoned up and corseted with her secrets. What transpires undoes her.

This play is resonant on so many levels and this is supported by the sound, set and lighting. John is a swimmer. Audio of water evokes the placental soup which calms him, the whale calls of life under the sea and in the womb.  The tattoo bench is the only set piece. This simple but versatile bench becomes many things. It is when it is a kayak that it becomes apparent that Amy is fearful of the water in which John finds such joy. The other significant aspect of the set are the three sheer curtains through which actors can be seen and which become the canvas of a rich palette of light. This thin veil of epidermis holds back the flood of water from which humanity is constituted.

Blue Cow is recognised for quality theatre and their support of Alison Mann through the Cowshed initiative is to be lauded.  Dramaturg, Peter Matheson, has worked with the Cowshed for over a decade to produce high quality professional theatre. Funding for ventures such as these is essential to the support of new and significant voices such as Alison Mann.

If you miss this show in Hobart, it would worthwhile travelling to Launceston to see this excellent new piece of theatre which will leave an indelible mark on your heart and soul.

Anne Blythe-Cooper