This Year’s Ashes

A ticket mix up meant I was not there for the opening of the season, but I’m so glad I got to see this production three weeks in, when performances are bedded down and subtext and nuance are fully realised.

Jane Bodie’s three character play about grief, guilt and commitment can seem a little trite and one dimensional in the first act. Ellen, a young woman so steeped in grief she can barely function in the world, spends her time getting drunk and screwing around as a way of not dealing with her pain. We meet several men she sleeps with, but one keeps coming back, keeps hanging in there, and we don’t know why. Is he a weak masochist? Ellen’s only real connection is to her dead father, with whom she shares the Australian Cricket team’s Ashes defeat of 2010. There’s no suggestion that there was anything sexual between father and daughter, and yet she treats him more like a boyfriend than a father. By the end of the first act you are still mildly interested, have admired the clever one-liners, but feel barely connected emotionally to any of the characters.

And then, in Act Two, the playwright unleashes the subtext and subtly draws us into Ellen’s world. A marvellous reversal of time, in the final flashback scene, explains all with delicate poignancy. We feel Ellen’s grief and guilt and understand Adam’s commitment and consistency. It’s very clever writing and every emotional moment has the ring of truth.

Rosie Lockhart, celebrating one year with Red Stitch after graduating from VCA, goes from strength to strength in every role. She is both brittle and heart-breakingly fragile as Ellen, set on a course of self -destruction. In the scene where she breaks emotionally, Rosie didn’t give us sobs and histrionics but a quiet flood of tears that lead to long threads of mucous dripping from her nose. It was hard not to cross the few steps to centre stage in the tiny theatre and comfort her. The pain was palpable; the emotion, real.

Jeremy Stanford brought all of his experience to the role of the father, Brian, and yet, while I admired the craft, I wasn’t convinced by the character. Perhaps the brutality of El’s grief was simply too overwhelming to fully engage with Brian, or perhaps Director Tim Roseman wanted us to only see Brian through El’s rose-tinted tear-stained glasses. Perhaps also Mr Stanford is not a cricket fan, which is an inherent part of the character’s makeup. Certainly the scene where Brian explains cricket to El seemed phoney and misplaced.

The true revelation of the piece is Daniel Frederiksen as a composite of the men in El’s life. Not given a name in the programme, he is charming, witty, strong, weak, goofy and manipulative. He is Everyman, and yet it is as the constant Adam, who knows more of Ellen than she does herself, that Frederiksen shines with decency and compassion. He finds every moment in Bodie’s script, and then enhances it. He is also selfless in the nude scene (front row audience be warned.) Beautiful acting, perfectly focussed.

Tim Roseman’s direction vacillates between exciting and journeyman, but at its best is excellent. Kat Chan’s set and costumes work a treat and sound and lighting in the tiny space were admirable. We’ve come to expect excellence in every offering from this company, and this is no exception. You only have this week left to see This Year’s Ashes…it would be a great pity if you did not make the effort.

Coral Drouyn

Images: Rosie Lockhart and Daniel Fredericksen & Jeremy Stanford and Rosie Lockhart. Photographer: Jodie Hutchinson.