The Platypus

You may have seen writer and director of this wacky opus, Francis Greenslade, on the telly – in particular Shaun Micallef’s Mad as Hell. I say wacky because the show, being more of a gloriously unhinged black comedy, provides a somewhat indecisive presentation where one isn’t sure whether to laugh, cry or remain immune, all with bemusement; but for a number of reasons. The cast of two are a married couple on the verge of a marital breakdown and what ensues is a potpourri of an unimaginable array of instant character changes sparked by the couples’ alarming psychological descent into reality.

What begins as a domestic spat soon spirals into a potpourri of character swaps, impersonations, and musical detours. One moment we’re with Shakespeare, the next Oscar Wilde, then Cary Grant appears, before a jaunty song with hilarious lyrics arrives just to make sure we’re still paying attention. It’s surreal, frenetic, and often hilarious — a feast for actors and a workout for the audience.

Greenslade anchors the madness with a curious mascot: the platypus. Like the famously evolutionary-confused creature, the play is a glorious hybrid — burrowing through comedy, part tragedy, part cabaret — knitted together in colourful zigzags. It doesn’t swim so much as paddle frantically in circles; but watching it is half the fun.

Jess (Rebecca Bower) and Richard (John Leary) are superb as the beleaguered couple, slipping in and out of characters with the speed of quick-change artists on espresso, with energy and wit. They find elements of humour in impatience and tragedy in the trivial, and vice-versa, proving that even the pettiest quarrel can fuel theatrical fireworks. Greenslade’s sardonic humour — allegedly written in just three days and perhaps fuelled by a four shot flat white — is everywhere, with Sarah Tulloch’s set, elegantly simple yet symbolically loaded as a play within a play, being the calm eye in Greenslade’s hurricane of invention.

This production having been been around for a while and previously reviewed more in intriguing detail by Stage Whispers for its Melbourne run (see with the Search button) and later included in the Brisbane Festival no doubt for additional comedic variety, this play, though perhaps not everyone’s taste, affirms that Australian playwrights can deliver theatre as intellectually ambitious and entertaining as their international peers. It’s a chaotic black comedy with teeth, sometimes glaringly in-your-face, but, above all, it is true theatre, provocative and distinctly original.

Brian Adamson

Photographer: Mark Gambino