The Parricide

The Parricide
By Diane Stubbing, La Mama, Carlton (VIC). 7 to 25 May, 2014

The initial inspiration for The Parricide (the word means the killing of a parent) comes from Dostoyevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov. If you’re unfamiliar with that novel and, indeed, the life of Dostoyevsky himself, you may well be baffled by this ambitious production. It’s ‘ambitious’ in that it attempts to dramatise, first, a period in the writer’s life (1866?). Then it segues intermittently into Dostoyevsky imagining scenes from an early, perhaps apocryphal version of The Brothers Karamazov (the novel was not published until 1880) and The Gambler, which Dostoyevsky was trying to finish in 1866. Then again, there are interpolations of the political turmoil in the streets outside. It’s the sort of thing Tom Stoppard, say, could pull off – though probably with a lighter touch.

For those who are familiar with Dostoyevsky’s life and work, The Parricide may prove a rich and textured ninety minutes or so. But for this reviewer, who happens to be familiar with the life and work, playwright Diane Stubbing’s reach may exceed her grasp. She is trying to do (include, cover?) too much. There so much going on that the play becomes a rather overwhelming jumble.

Perhaps this production will settle down and achieve some clarity, but at present, Karen Berger’s direction muddies what’s there – although making this particular text work would be a challenge for anyone. The transitions between scenes of Dostoyevsky’s life and scenes of heated debate between his fictional characters are not clean and are therefore confusing. Is this bit Dostoyevsky’s life or is it something he’s imagining? The play has five ‘real’ characters and four ‘fictional’ characters. But possibly the confusion is deliberate; that is, for this great artist, what he imagines is as real as ‘real’. However, gestural references to Dostoyevsky’s epilepsy and his gambling addiction remain at the level of puzzling gestures. Things are also not helped by the cast being permitted or perhaps encouraged to do a great deal of shouting – which is rather inappropriate in the tiny La Mama space anyway. Yes, Russians are ‘passionate’ and ‘emotional’, but this need not always be conveyed by the high volume to which the actors ascend very quickly.

What is surprising is that the cast here is all trained, experienced and have impressive credits (and in some cases awards) behind them. Lyall Brooks as Fedya (i.e. Fyodor Dostoyevsky) has great charm - when permitted to exhibit it – but handsome though he is, he suggests more a talent for comedy than high melodrama. Nick Simpson-Deeks, a very talented actor, has two roles, but seems mysteriously stuck on one note in both. Daniel Last is visually perfect as the radical student, but the role is thankless: it devolves into sloganeering political rants. Zoe Ellerton-Ashley’s major role (again of two) is that of Dostoyevsky’s mistress. Wisely not shouting too much at all, she plays her emotions and arguments cleanly and with strength. Most impressive of all, however, is Olivia Monticciolo as Anna, the stenographer hired to help panicky, unfocussed Dostoyevsky finish The Gambler. Ms Monticciolo – as Anna - makes no attempt to be ‘sweet’ or appealing; she’s prim, angular and so starchy she crackles. She is not a scrap ‘passionate’ like everyone else. Paradoxically this makes her very real and, in the end, touching. The quiet scenes between her and Fedya pull the audience in. She is at first both discombobulated and disapproving, but, drawn in to the artistic endeavor, takes control. There are no proposals or declarations of love, but when chaotic Fedya looks at cut-and-dried Anna and suggests in subtext, ‘Yes, this is what I need’ – it is strangely convincing. (In ‘real’ life, Dostoyevsky married Anna.) If The Parricide had more of this sort of thing and less argument for its own sake, it would be a better play.

In her program note Ms Stubbing says, ‘…if I’ve misjudged… I take heart in the fact that Dostoyevsky’s work will endure a lot longer than my own.’ This modest statement is of course true, but in this case too true.

Michael Brindley 

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