Mother

She’s a lonely figure on stage as the audience assemble. Surrounded by leaves, rubbish, the left-over detritus of a Melbourne suburban corner, the woman is damaged and shaky, with matted hair and outfit of a beggar. Birds squawk. The audience chatter, are indifferent to her. A full 20 minutes goes by as she potters about, grunting, talking to herself. 

At last the play begins and we are submerged in the leftovers of life on the outside. This is our introduction to Christie, or Mother, the title character in Daniel Keene’s 70-minute portrait of modern homelessness and abject poverty. 

Noni Hazlehurst brings commitment and controlled anger to the role, as blazing a performance as Sydney has seen in a while. On the road, from Hobart to Cairns, over the past two years, she brings great subtleties to the role.

Shaking, never still, she remembers a scene with her dropkick husband Lenny, as ‘mad as a budgie’, her pregnancy, feeding the baby mashed banana, choosing a name – ‘let’s call him Lenny’, Lenny said. Secretly, unofficially, she calls him Beau.

And then there’s loudmouth conflict - with a passing 12-year-old boy who swears at her, at a rest home, with her no-interest mother, and with Lenny’s sister who takes the baby away for safety’s sake. When she attempts to get the baby back, Christie meets up with Lenny again (‘as barren as a plank’).

Matt Scholten directs with care and precision. With setting and costume designed by Kat Chan, atmospheric lighting by Tom Willis, and a more or less continuous soundtrack of birds and trains and overheard music by Darius Kedros, this is first rate travelling theatre.

Frank Hatherley

Photographer: Brett Boardman