The Astral Plane

This review is going to be problematic. I'm going to overthink it. It will end up being all about me. Because I'm a navel gazer. A deep thinker. A writer. And an actor. And a flipping director. And a wannabe world saver. And I'm deep. So deep. Are you drowning yet? That's how deep I am. So how can I write a review about a play that is so well conceived and written...and is so relatable, so insightful, so on point vis a vis the zietgeist, that I just want to highlight every metaphor, every inference and reference, because it's simply that layered. I can't. It would take all day.

So, for brevity and expediency, here's a broad outline of the conceit: It opens with young couple heading off on a romantic getaway – except each has a different idea of the ideal bonding experience they should have. He wants to expand his mind, via a retreat - she wants to have a more typical getaway, while simultaneously broadcasting her insights via Instagram. And thus they separate on those divergent paths for the weekend...not realising that his goal (of attaining nirvana) and her goal (to truly encapsulate the ideal self she wishes to present to the world as an 'influencer') are about to intersect in a whole other dimension. Cue trippy Alice, Through The Looking Glass-style encounters with talking critters and more 'meta' references than you can throw a selfie stick at. For added emphasis, here's some obligatory hashtags: #selfawareness #egostates #freud #socialmediamessiahcomplexes #metaphysics #instaworthy #ultraspiritual #interspecieslovetriangle #onfleek #getoutofmyheadCharlieGarber

The production itself is as tight as a tightly-coiled spring. So much so, that there were times when I just wanted to slow the pace just a squidge, to allow the actors to lean a bit more into the sharp dialogue. Given that there is nothing flabby to this script at all, every line is pertinent (and at times, profound), and given the intimacy of the teeny downstairs space, it does feel like an opportunity (to let all the words really hit home, with just a few small pauses) is being missed.

That's a minor criticism. Garber's, blocking is deceptively evocative, making perfect use of the space and this ensemble is so well-drilled that at times they seemed like a multi-headed, multi-limbed single-organism – the performances are that tight. Oh, I said that already. In case it's not immediately obvious, this review, is an unabashed homage to the actual and philosophical elements of this piece. One can only assume that Charlie Garber wrote it after a massive onslaught of personal epiphanies. The resulting, surreal concoction is so meta, that it's an even bigger credit to the cast that they never lose focus (in the small space) when audience members heads inevitably nod vigorously, or nudge their friends in acknowledgement of a resonating truth. Be that as it may, one does have to have quick fangirl moment over Michael Whalley's priceless facials and body language, and Julia Robertson's precise characterisations in her dual roles.

The minimalist staging is wonderfully complimented by the lighting and the costumes are the cherry on top of this brain-freeze inducing Sundae. Belvior Street are to be commended for the 25A initiative (see link for details: https://belvoir.com.au/25a/ ) that enabled this witty little gem to scurry out from the skirting boards.

Rose Cooper

Photographer: Clare Hawley