Daddy Developed a Pill

When Cynthia was a little girl (touchingly played by Sarah Greenwood) she didn’t see much of her beloved Daddy; he was always too busy developing a pill.  But Cynthia (still Greenwood) grows up into an upper-middle-class princess - and a super-loyal, high performing executive who’s developed a pill of her own.  Hers is an experimental pill that transforms perception, particularly of oneself - and tonight Cynthia will launch her pill - and take it herself. The catch is that if one fails to find one’s identity, after three hours of delirium and hallucination, one could die…  

For her product launch, Cynthia throws a massive party, with dancing, drinking and other drugs, for her gender-fluid siblings, lovers, abusers, relatives and assorted friends.  Will Daddy himself arrive? 

Here’s what can you do with no budget, three doors and three actors (Greenwood, Clay Crighton and Jack Francis West) called upon to play sixteen characters, fifteen of those characters transforming as they burst in and out of those three doors, in a confrontational, satirical text about the ‘search for identity’, and about a woman searching for her identity, a woman in despair, a woman with Daddy issues and who’s falling apart.  

Daddy Developed a Pill lurches (it doesn’t segue) between blackest-of-black comedy and - suddenly - tragedy, with a head-spinning mix of styles and genres from sit-com to Grand Guignol to moments (only moments) of good old naturalism.  As Cynthia’s pill takes hold - that is, takes her over - and the bewildering array of her guests begins to mix and meld, and ‘identity’ itself becomes performance (was it ever anything else?), and it all merges into something free-floating and fluid.  As Cynthia loses her grip on her own identity, and is assailed, accused, mocked and revealed as the screwed-up, manipulative bitch she actually is - all she can cling to is Daddy’s voice on her phone - and hope. 

Cassie Hamilton makes some bold claims for her play.  That she seeks to ‘create new queer aesthetics’, that she explores ‘discourses surrounding identity, the performance of gender and the modern day complexities of queer culture’, that her intent is to ‘critique queer rep [sic] and its tendency to glorify or sanctify queer people’.  And she is right.  Her play does do these things in a full-on, and not-afraid-to-offend way.  Perhaps most interesting - and even bolder - is her take on ‘queer rep’: she says she’s ‘tired of sappy love stories or tragic, suffering trans people’.  ‘Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you can’t be a steaming pile of shit’.  (You might think that is obvious, but it sure can offend to say so.)

So, the concept and the intentions are strong and they are delivered - as far as one can tell - in the text - even if it can seem at times arbitrary and confusing.  What happens on stage is not always entirely clear.  Director L J Wilson maintains the frenetic pace, and Sarah Greenwood has an amazing focus as grown-up Cynthia, whatever the text throws at her character.  But the clearly very talented Clay Chrighton and Jack Francis West do seem at times overwhelmed by the demands of playing the other fifteen characters. The intention of having them play the other fifteen characters is clear - since it is a play about identity - and it seems Hamilton is happy with this.  But when a radical switch of character must happen in seconds and is signalled by a minimal costume change (such as a jumper, a hat, a bow tie or a necklace), a wig, a walk or a different voice (with at times slurred diction) differentiation can easily become unclear.  Jack Francis West is superb in some of their ‘straighter’ characters, but in others they resort - as if they have to - to the near grotesque to achieve what’s required.  Chrighton, who seems a natural comedian, almost merges into a composite rather than his various multiple personae.  

It’s unfortunate that this lack of clarity at times mars this provocative and startlingly original play.  This season at the Explosives Factory is the play’s second outing - after a successful run in Sydney.  There, according to Hamilton, it ‘resonated with young queer people who truly felt it was for them.’  I’m neither young nor queer, but Daddy Developed a Pill resonated with me.

Michael Brindley