Dead Man’s Cell Phone

Supported by Slingsby and Brink Productions and presented by Caitlin Ellen Moore (Wicked Good Productions) and Tim Overton, Dead Man’s Cell Phone (Sarah Ruhl 2008) is a whimsical glimpse into a collection of absurd moments in the lives of several people linked by one unexpected and unexplained death.  This play is also presented as part of State Theatre Company SA’s generous and important Stateside program, supporting smaller local theatre companies to produce new work.

The narrative is surreal taking us both forward and backward in time, and in one instance situates two of the characters in an enigmatic afterlife where they may, or may not, remain.  The protagonist Jean is at first innocuous but as her repertoire of tall tales spins complex fictions about the cited dead man to comfort his next of kin, her life shifts into a more imperative mode.  Annabel Matheson gives a finely-tuned performance as Jean with a beautifully measured presence and precise gestures offset by her meticulous spoken phrasing.  Although central to the play and the linking of other characters’ trajectories, Jean is not a fully formed character.  This is not problematic, merely an interesting choice by playwright Sarah Ruhl: we know nothing about Jean’s life before she becomes the caretaker (hoarder?) of Gordon’s phone and only glean a little of her disposition as the story progresses.

James Smith is a powerful, focussed performer and riveting in the role of Gordon Gottlieb, the character who in the first instance, has died.  Various hints about Gordon’s professional life pepper the dialogue but it is Gordon himself, soliloquizing from beyond the grave, who reveals the unsavoury truth.  Smith ably embraces both comic and darker moments and endows a second character (Dwight, the brother of Gordon) with endearing awkwardness.  This actor deftly switches between the two personas with great vocal prowess and impressive command of shifting posture, demeanour, and movement choices.

Shabana Azeez (Hermia/Other Woman/Stranger) is an accomplished film actor and here takes on the challenge of portraying three characters and a number of accents.  Azeez performs each persona with poise however at times lines were lost when the actor’s voice became a little shrill or rushed.  The marvellous Carmel Johnson depicts Gordon’s mother with an authoritative yet world-weary demeanour, the character becoming slightly more mysterious as the play develops, leaving much to audience imagination. 

Director & co-producer Tim Overton has set the play in a surreal, stylized world once-removed from reality; an indeterminate limbo peopled with Ruhl’s idiosyncratic characters.  With serious attention to detail, he has led the very fine ensemble to a point of excellence and navigated the blend of comedy and tragedy with finesse.  A traverse staging allows for both audience intimacy and plenty of physical space for the action to be choreographed in a very satisfying manner.  Overton skilfully utilizes the different levels available at the venue as entrance and exit points and as other specified locations.  Additionally, the levels serve to highlight the hierarchy of status for certain characters.

Other welcome directorial choices relate to the use of music and dance within the whole plus the quirky relationship at times between Jean and the onstage musician/composer, Dave McEvoy.  The musician and his music exist as additional characters without ever dominating the flow and the music itself was divine.  Wendy Todd contributed a modest set that could be manipulated mostly by the actors and appropriate, mostly understated costuming, with a few hilarious exceptions.  Vanessa van de Weyer created an unpretentious lighting design to add to the other-worldliness of the play.  Gestural, stylized, and thoughtful choreography developed by Zoë Dunwoodie also sat well in the mix beautifully framing the inner desires of Jean and Dwight; once again this element never intruded and blended perfectly with the inherent magical realism, poetic language, and dream-like sensibility. 

On receiving a MacArthur Fellowship in 2006, Sarah Ruhl was described as a playwright “creating vivid and adventurous theatrical works that poignantly juxtapose the mundane aspects of daily life with mythic themes of love and war."  This production of Dead Man’s Cell Phone is a lyrical, satirical exploration of contemporary morality and connection; a fairy-tale for our age.  With outstanding cast and direction, the weirdness simply draws the audience, and our phones, into a delightful adventure.

I highly recommend an outing to see this work and to lend your support to a talented and local group of independent creatives.

Lisa Lanzi