★★
Quality aside, there comes a time when no great actor, director or production team can justify the mounting of a particular play – and that time is now. No longer satisfied with dominating Sydney’s main stages, the values of ’70s Middle America have made their way onto the independent scene for little discernible reason.
Lenny (Laura Pike) isn’t using to having her sisters together in the same room. But when youngest sibling Babe (Renae Small) is arrested for shooting her husband, and wild child Meg (Amanda McGregor) returns, the bonds between the siblings become their only hope.
It should be said first off that the quality of performers on display is of a high standard across the board. Our three sisters (sorry) make for a believable family – the play’s grandest moments are when the trio are around the table with each other, laughing at inappropriate jokes and pushing each other’s buttons. Small, in particular, has an infectious laugh and great conviction.
So, too, have director Janine Watson and designer Jonathan Hindmarsh taken pains to recreate the cosy confines of a 1970s household. They’re going for the same realist model one expects from the majors these days, harking back to the days of Strindberg where authenticity was everything, and they do a fine job. The cakes and cookies used are real, and as Babe squeezes lemon after lemon to make lemonade, the smell permeates the theatre – a nice touch, if an overuse of fruit.
The issue lies in the material. In her director’s notes, Watson refers to Beth Henley’s play as a “Southern Gothic tragicomedy”. She goes on to espouse the values of the play and its relevance to its specific time and place in Mississippi of 1974.
But there’s no explanation behind why this distinctly American play, with its distinctly American themes and issues pertinent to its period, is being put up with significant backing on a Darlinghurst stage in 2017. Its characters, well-crafted as they are, face issues that are a far cry from those experienced by women of today. Henley’s dialogue contains some whip-smart exchanges between the sisters and their neighbours – especially with Amy Usherwood’s nosy cousin Chick – but relies enormously on exposition, leaving the stage bereft of action across an overlong runtime.
As the majors have proven in the last few years, all the money in the world can’t make up for an irrelevant story. Crimes Of The Heart can have its cake – a whole new cake every night, in fact – but it’s a hard one to swallow. Layers of topping don’t mask the staleness.
Photo: Kate Williams
Crimes Of The Heartis playing at the Old Fitz Theatre until Saturday April 8.
