Scenes from the Climate Era

Five actors on Nick Schlieper’s simple set of chairs and a table, move quickly though scenes and monologues, often heralded by David Bergman’s rumbling score and the announcement of the year plucked from just the next two decades.

I was actually relieved when 2041 came with news that people aren’t risking flights anymore given the turbulent atmosphere: I figured by then I wouldn’t care!  A list in 2023 of recent “endlings”, the last in a species before total extinction, is less easy to avoid.  And that’s Finnegan’s point: he reminds us that feeling the generational continuum of our community is the first step.

His very human snapshots of anger, incredulity, scepticism, blind optimism, anxiety and hopelessness begin with a couple reasoning why they shouldn’t bring a baby into this world. Harriet Gordon-Andersen and Brandon McClelland set a high bar in compelling, authentic acting, in a fine ensemble with Charles Wu, Ariadne Sgourgos and Abbie-Lee Lewis.

We see denialists turned corporate green washers; hear of microplastics in our blood; nightmare storms and 55 degree temperatures in Penrith; sulphuric acid sprayed into the skies of Beijing to cool the sun; bio-scientists planning reef replacement. Through these vignettes director Carissa Licciardello speedily drives her focused cast, and exploits the welcome levity and playfulness in Finnigan’s play.  

Schlieper lights his own sparse set with such beauty and sharp timing, and through a stunning design feature agonisingly playing out the little time we have left.  

Besides having kids, the initial couple also argue about sorting the rubbish, and whether plastic bags take more energy to make than paper ones.  Good citizenry, yes, but surely a little pathetic against Finnigan’s coming avalanche? That’s the dilemma of his play, it’s ends with a whimper of hope but it’s no call to action, just the realisation that unless we act as one, we won’t make it through.

Martin Portus

Photographer: Brett Boardman