★★★★

Certain productions come with built-in difficulties. Just ask anyone who has ever faced the wrath of Samuel Beckett’s estate, or staged Sarah Kane’s Cleansed. While The Secret River is burdened with neither rigid fidelity to text or extravagant stage directions, its 2013 debut saw the production heralded as one of the most popular and engrossing plays in recent memory.

Earning itself six Helpmann Awards, it is still recalled these years later with gushing admiration. As such, taking a seat to finally see this sad saga unfold comes with inevitable expectations.

The story is simply told, yet all the more affecting for stripping back to minimal props, grand performances, and feats of sombre imagination. William Thornhill (Nathaniel Dean) has arrived at a bend of the Hawkesbury River with his young family and the dream of building a new life. A former convict who has only recently earned his freedom, Thornhill and his kin soon become acquainted with the odd denizens who make this removed patch of earth their home. Yet the crux of the conflict comes when they begin interacting with the Dharug people whose land the colonists are usurping.

Dean does not miss a beat, performing a man more and more haunted as the play moves towards its tragic climax. He will sacrifice everything – including the emotional life of the very dream he is fighting for – and the man he becomes by the end is a far cry from the hopeful larrikin we first encounter. As his wife Sal, Georgia Adamson excels in every scene, and ultimately acts as our moral compass. Fellow settlers ‘Smasher’ Sullivan and Loveday (Richard Piper in savage form, and Bruce Spence loquacious and grim, respectively) are stand-outs, as are Jennifer Hagan and Colin Moody.

It is the indigenous cast, however, which is responsible for making this tale so vivid (though yes, I suppose director Neil Armfield does deserve some credit, as does the exceptional live music provided by Isaac Hayward). As Ngalamalum, Trevor Jamieson burns with barely contained outrage and passion, and both Frances Djulibing and Madeleine Madden are striking, dignified figures. An unfortunate misstep, though, is Ningali Lawford-Wolf’s narratorial role; while her timbre is strong, there are few passages that do not contain multiple stumbles.

The Secret River is not a play for tears. Rather, you exit the theatre feeling stunned and angry; shocked by the double standards of our heritage, and at how easily so much bloodshed and displacement could have been avoided.

Image© Heidrun Löhr

The Secret Riveris playing at Roslyn Packer Theatre until Saturday February 20.

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