★★★★
Though the Polanski film version of Death And The Maiden left a lasting impression, it had little to do with the direction or performances. It wasn’t even the script, although Ariel Dorfman co-wrote it based on his own play. It was the premise that seemed most promising, so full of dark potential, and Leticia Cáceres’ production stays true to the troubling ambiguity of Dorfman’s original.
Set in an unknown country (albeit one that closely resembles post-Pinochet Chile) democratically establishing itself following years of tyranny, human rights lawyer Gerardo Escobar and wife Paulina live in an isolated beach house. One evening, helpful stranger Dr. Roberto Miranda arrives, initiating a searing psychological thriller. Paulina, once abducted, raped and tortured by unseen government captors, is convinced by the voice of Miranda that he was the man behind her torment. After subduing the doctor, she compels her husband to act in Miranda’s defence, and thus the tension is set.
It is a disturbing if fascinating set-up, and the cast does an admirable job of making the stakes seem immediate and real. In what is arguably the least ‘meaty’ role, Steve Mouzakis nevertheless brings an everyman appeal to Gerardo. He appears as witness and executor of the truth, and although his delivery is initially hesitant and his chemistry with Paulina somewhat awkward, he soon slides into place.
Susie Porter delivers a rather more uneven performance. Though we are witnessing a character torn apart by past demons, who must alternate between intensity and questionable calm, her swings seem too studied and at times overdrawn. Yet we do not doubt the emotional honesty of her portrayal, and the harrowing strength and fragility of Paulina is made very real.
Still, the strengths of the production are Nick Schlieper’s outstanding set design – a rotating stage of three stark white rooms – and Eugene Gilfedder’s Miranda. You never once question the joviality, fear, outrage and remorse of his character, even if the sincerity of these emotions are themselves entirely suspect. Is this the man who inflicted such atrocities, or someone struck by chance to be the intimate of Paulina’s madness?
There is a particularly memorable scene where we find a voice recorder projecting a confession into an empty room. The import is not who hears these words, but that they are said at all; that truth – even the shaky suspicion of truth that we witness here – is spoken aloud and remembered. This is a stirring production, one that it is pleasing to finally see staged with such integrity.
Death And The Maiden is playing at Wharf 1, Sydney Theatre Company until Saturday October 17.
