Reviews

Almost like a rite of passage, our young Australian artists make the pilgrimage to the United Kingdom to see if they can make a break into the theatrical tapestry that is London.  That was the case for Lala Barlow and partner Robbie Smith as they departed Australia, survived the long-haul flight and arrived at Heathrow with a sense of adventure and excitement, ready to embrace all that old Blighty has to offer.

Nakkiah Lui’s madcap satire begins with the promising premise of three well-educated, ambitious if marginalised Australians – an Aboriginal, Korean and a gay Tongan – trying to snatch power in the Senate by getting elected their own carefully selected bland white male.  

What would you do for your friend? Your mate? Your family? Blackrock asks these questions in Nick Enright’s 1990s play about male behaviours after a teenage girl is raped and killed. Unfortunately, Jack Cummin’s production doesn’t really help us with the answers.

It starts well, the brooding teenage figure of Jared (played by the director), sitting on a rock, looking out to sea. The language of Jared and his cousin defines the context for the next fifty minutes: this is a boiling pot of uncertain masculinity, where the boys rule, right?

In your face, in your head, ripping out your heart. That’s all in the first few minutes of this raw and visceral performance. Scott Wings delivers beautiful poetry of the body, in words and movement.

This is physical theatre of a different kind – a one-man journey inside himself: metaphorical, though sometimes it feels and looks and sounds quite literal.