Packer & Sons

Quoting Tommy Murphy’s early big hit, there’s no holding the man in this new play about four generations of Packer men.

These big blunt bullies dismiss their sons as competitors, and weak to boot, they’re fathers whose cold hearts all fail to get them past their 60s, but have carved newspaper, magazine, television and now gambling empires out of Sydney.

Eamon Flack nimbly directs this generational duplication of toxic masculinity on Romanie Harper’s minimalist Belvoir stage, with mostly blanket lighting by Nick Schlieper. It’s an all-male cast with much, sometimes awkward, doubling across generations; women are barely mentioned, except as whores.

It’s a compelling passage of patriarchal brutality, and Murphy’s obvious research helps to pack a punch even stronger.  His challenge though is to distil all that into a play.  As it eddies into overdetailed tangents and business deals, it feels like these real-life Packers are demanding more space – perhaps a mighty old NSW9 mini-series.

John Howard helps drive it through with his weighty performance as Frank and an older Kerry Packer, as does Brandon McClelland as Clyde, the brother who turned alternative and got away.  Josh McConville plays vulnerable Packers, first the young Kerry and then James, as the (overly written) unravelling of One Tel and his marriage triggers a first breakdown. 

Nick Bartlett is a fine Teflon coated, US-accented Lachlan Murdoch, such a counter to James, while Anthony Harkin is James’ welcome whizz kid buddy, Jodee Rich. John Gaden plays Rupert and two lads alternate, providing chilling imagery of boy Packers being bludgeoned by their Dads’ expectations. Alan John’s music provides a cinematic sweep even if the play’s own rhythms stumble by the end.

Martin Portus

Photographer: Brett Boardman