A Conversation

The Passion flows like blood and music…

This is the second in David Williamson’s Jack Manning Trilogy, written between 1999 and 2006 and presented at the Ensemble theatre. On the surface these plays deal with the processes and outcomes of ‘community conferencing’ or transformative justice’ in Australian society. Beneath the surface they deliver a roller coaster ride of intense emotions; exposing grief, anger, retribution, love and finally forgiveness and perhaps even redemption.

A Conversation opens on a brightly lit almost bare stage with a row of eight chairs, side tables with tissue boxes and a table with a sorry spread of tea bags, coffee and biscuits. Convenor Jack Manning is ranging around setting up the room. The players emerge from the audience and are greeted and seated by Jack. There is a couple who lost their daughter in a vicious rape and murder assault, the psychiatrist who treated the perpetrator and the mother, brother, sister and uncle of the now convicted murderer. The purpose of this ‘conference’ of the families of the victim and assailant is never completely clear to them or us. Is it to communicate grief or to attribute blame more widely? All the parties struggle with the reason for their presence. The perp’s mother hope the victim’s parents will support her son’s application for protective custody (rapists are often punished by other prisoners), the perp’s sister blames the class ridden and economically skewed society for her brother’s crimes, his brother blames himself for not revealing his sibling’s sociopathic behaviour, his uncle deflects then accepts blame for not offering support and guidance for his nephew, the psychiatrist procrastinates about her compromised professionalism and the victim’s parents unleash their grief and anger on all. Jack, the councillor, maintains his calm and keeps his clients on track and physically separated. He’s like Tony Jones bereft of emotion.

Thanks to a brilliant script, capable direction and powerful acting this play moves smoothly and with the depth of an orchestra. Like musicians with their instruments, each actor possesses their character and harmonises with the other characters and this approach moves the whole ensemble through a series of sweeps to the heights and depths of human emotion. This symphony of drama is a pleasure to watch, but it’s hard to absorb the viciousness of the crime and the blame and guilt game that all pursue. Jo-Anne Cahill is superb as the mother of the perp. This play is not to be missed. I’m now looking forward to the third part of this trilogy…

Stephen Carnell

Cast: Jo-Anne Cahill, Merran Doyle, Alexandra Fowler, Glenn Hazeldine, Anthony Gee, Mark Lee, Erica Lovell, Peter Phelps.

Photographer: Clare Hawley.