Anthem

Put simply, Anthem is the sum of many parts, most of which require all the content warnings. With multiple playwrights on board, it’s akin to an anthology - but one that’s been popped in a blender. With multiple themes and tangents, but a singular goal - to take the audience on a journey that begins and ends with the same spoken word melody and rhythm, it’s the theatrical equivalent of a jazz session. It’s laden with social commentary, but unlike most modern plays with sharp edges, it’s not satire. It’s abrasive and raw, but the level to which an audience might be shocked or emotionally affected by it depends directly on where they sit on the “political divide” and/or how deep their level of denial is about the dire state of things. In that respect, this microcosm of humanity, set mostly within a public transport setting, serves as a venn diagram - with intersecting moments of relatability/revulsion. 

Given the numerous protest marches being staged on a weekly basis these days, Launceston Players’ timing couldn’t have been better. Written in 2019, the microcosm of racial tension, xenophobia, misogyny, queer-phobia and general apathy that is reflected here is pretty darn bleak - which is jarring, considering that things have only become bleaker. 

It’s pretty much all laid out for consideration here - even the parallel between what is happening now and what happened decades ago, under Fascist Regimes. If you know, you know. 

Consequently, Anthem is a lot to digest - but the way the narratives intersect and mirror each other, either overtly or subtly, keeps its audience on their collective toes - picking up on clues, clocking the callbacks and generally dealing with the complex feelings being conjured. 

It almost goes without saying, therefore, that director Leigh Oswin is to be heartily congratulated for navigating such a complex piece. His astute casting and the obvious care and consideration of the text and overall look and feel of this production. Lilly Amos’ basic, modular set design is both artistically evocative and easily adaptable. Combined with Jeff Hockley’s seamless lighting design and Chris Jackson’s soundscape and highly impressive video backdrop, all serve to fill an ostensibly ‘empty’ space with vivid life. 

I could pluck certain performances from the play to issue well-deserved praise, but with a cast of 18 and an incredibly dense text that relies so critically on cohesion, timing and teamwork, it seems superficial to do so. Virtually everyone has the same mental workload keeping the narrative train on track.

Suffice to say that each cast member performs their part(s) to the absolute best of their abilities. Having seen quite a few local productions now, I was impressed by the acting of people whose work I’ve previously seen, and excited by other cast members upon whom I'd never clapped eyes. Kudos to all concerned.  

Having said that, it would be remiss of me not to mention the efforts of Caitlin McCarthy (violin) and Kevin Vong (double bass) - who not only provided the live score throughout, but also took on key characters. My brain hurts when I think about this kind of multi-tasking. Flowers also to Jade Howard as Charity - her vocal stylings served as an intermittent balm amid all the violence and chaos.

While the text is tough going at times, it undoubtedly serves its purpose as a conversation starter. I walked away wondering how it would be written if it were tackled today - post Covid, George Floyd, January 6, The Voice Referendum and amid the current humanitarian crisis in Gaza to name but a few events plaguing modern society. 

In amongst all the complex dialogue, the message can all be summed by the utterance of one single sentence uttered somewhere in the middle of the play: "we don’t know who the real enemy is". 

Because, as many of us know, quite often the people with the strongest and loudest opinion (about who that enemy might be) are more often than not, the most deluded. 

(End soapbox rant). 

Rose Cooper

Images: Luca Schild Photography