Murder off a Duck's Back

Operating since 2015, Scratch Arts presents itself as Melbourne’s primary contemporary and ‘queer’ production house. Known for workshopping theatre, Murder Off a Duck’s Back presents rather like a sixty-minute workshop piece, and on opening night, it was obvious that the four, multi-character players were still polishing this piece. As they promise, this is a piece for absurdist fans, for absurd it is, right down to the very stylised clown make-up, and the leading ‘lady’ having a beard and moustache.

The venue, the Old Methodist Meeting Hall, is beautiful and, lit by its chandeliers, adds to an air of mystery, but the four-step podium is less than ideal as the right space for this production. A real issue presents itself for the players, who have to navigate polished stairs in the dim light or darkness to exit or enter. This is particularly a challenge for two characters who are resplendent in heels. The company had been forced to create unwieldy makeshift ‘wings’ and’ legs’ on the stage and, at best, this is distracting. Despite this, the company moved all props and set pieces themselves, performing in a bar, a train, and a chateau. The set looks home made at times, but this is absurdist comedy, and this adds to the deliberate, frequently ‘milked’ silliness.

From the outset, it is obvious that music (we enter to mysterious, pacey gypsy style violins) and sound effects were thoughtfully chosen to add to the mood and action. On opening night, there was a ‘battle’ between the actors and the volume of the sound effects and backing music to the extent that the first few minutes of dialogue was inaudible. Whilst the actors seem to still be working on polishing projection and enunciation, this imbalance put significant pressure on them, and is easily rectified.

The play is a murder-not-so-much-mystery, set in a 1940s bar. Dialogue from the bartender is delivered film noir style. His work as the bartender, celebrant, criminal psychologist, and detective, is classic absurdist. His delivery and maintaining of the deranged character who (spoiler!) proceeds to murder a string of people (who magically re-appear as a new character) is classic monotone absurdist/noir. Chillingly, he asks the audience, ‘Why do I kill?’ and responds, ‘I have developed a taste for it’. The four players work desperately, and at times, frantically hard. For me, the standout is the anchoring barman, whose work at the start of the play sets the tone, style, and pace effectively. The dialogue uses every cliche and sight gag in the book and is peppered with some clever witticisms.

Unfortunately, in COVID times perhaps, there was no program available and the Scratch Arts website does not name our players who I would have liked to acknowledge. This is a night out for lovers of the absurd; a chance to suspend belief and celebrate the contribution of the gay community to Australian theatre.

Jude Hines

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