A Lie of the Mind

Last May graduating students of Sydney’s Actors Centre presented this 1985 Sam Shepard play under the direction of their drama teacher John Walraven. Now they are reviving their production in the space available before the New Theatre’s 2026 season begins next month. Don’t come expecting the New’s all-round standards of role-playing: these are former students at the start of their careers. Come instead for a touch of Shepard quality, for the bruised power of neglected American families living in a world of shared torment.

This is a play about memory, cycles of violence and the power of love. It begins – once we’ve had a taste of the guitar-playing and singing of some of the principals – with a frantic phone call from Jake Murphy (Finn Couzner) to Frankie (Amos Walker). He’s pretty sure he has just killed his young wife. 

Cut to a hospital bed where badly brain-damaged Beth Miller (Lily MacNevin) has a difficult conversation with her sister Michelle (Libby McAneney). Surely the battle between young husband and wife is over now: but no, it looks set to continue as long as Beth dotes on her young husband.

We have a brief stay at the Murphy’s where we meet Lorraine (Indiana Jamie), the mother of berserk Jake, and his sister Sally (Felicity Cribb). And then we are away to the Miller’s to meet Beth’s mother Meg (Abaigh Curry) and leader-of-the-pack Baylor (Lisandro Gargia), a short man with a big hat, an incendiary temper, few words and a gun.

As usual with Sam Sheperd plays, his men hit the road in reckless bids for freedom, while their women wander into an interior dream world of shared torment. Only Beth roams childlike and unchanged.

Lily McNevin has a marvellous go at Beth, all tormented and misguided. Abaigh Curry is convincing as her mother.

The design is by director Walraven, and there’s some good lighting by Jay Murrin.

The decision for the cast to break character and play guitar-based songs was not a good one. Some rather good singers are revealed. But on each occasion, the characters and their narratives are left way behind. What would Sam Shepard have said?

Frank Hatherley

Photographer: Josh Merten (Instagram: @joshie_merten).