Perhaps the most telling image in Megan Wilding’s magnificent Game. Set. Match., marking her mainstage debut as writer, is right there waiting as we sit down in the Malthouse’s Beckett Theatre.
Crustless halves of a white bread sandwich are smeared over the eyes of an imperious figure, the late Betty Hughes. Blinded on her lofty pedestal, a monochrome photographic portrait perched on an easel, this white woman is no longer able to see. But would she have bothered to care about what we’re about to observe anyway?
This tellingly tasty vandalism sits to one side of the austere, cream-and-teal-painted private room, conjured by set designer Isla Shaw, in which the tennis great is venerated, her white dress, rackets and a youthful portrait framed on the wall.
Wilding, who also stars as Ray, is tasked with tidying the clutter left behind in Betty’s literal wake, a celebration of her achievements on court and, latterly, as a power figure in the Australian Open organisation.
Clutching a bin bag, Ray’s startled by Joshua, a pale-blue-suited figure in a daze. Portrayed by Rick Davies, best known for TV shows including Offspring and Apple Cider Vinegar, he immediately insists he’s no threat to her. Odd first words called out by Ray.
Joshua missed the funeral, something of a big deal, we soon find out, and is more messed up, emotionally, than the room.
Sounds like an intriguing set-up. But what’s it all about?
Well, I think that symbolism speaks for itself. Or rather, for the smart as a slap Wilding, a sassy and savvy Gamilaroi creative who knows exactly what she’s doing, and how best to misdirect us.
Basically, about two thirds of Game. Set. Match., rigorously directed by Jessica Arthur, is a meet-cute that’s equal parts Nora Ephron and the golden age of screwball comedy.
Joshua’s instantly smitten. Ray wears a polka dot black lace skirt, pink leggings and a bunched leopard print Adidas tracksuit top under her Aus Open apron (Shaw’s on costumes, too). Not exactly the get-up for getting dirty, but it intrigues him. As does her fast facts about dolphins having better memories than elephants, and apparent obliviousness to Shakespeare’s little-known Hamlet…
But Ray’s wise to his white boy moves, repeatedly asserting that Joshua’s too old for her, yuck (there’s 11 years between them). Ray insists he help her clean up, then they head to a bar, summoned by Shaw’s good old-fashioned, actor-assisted stagecraft.
It’s here Joshua continues to woo Ray like a too-keen puppy dog, while they indulge in too many shots, a bucket of Pimm’s and a lil baggy as, bit by bit, she schools him on colonial privilege, brushing off his advances and penchant for dominant kink in a neon-lit toilet where the world spins.
But surely this is a case of opposites attract, right?
You’d think so, but there’s a big ol’ rug-pull I won’t reveal that fundamentally alters the nature of what’s going on here in ways that are expertly seeded by Wilding.
Suffice it to say that Wilding’s backhanded comedy bounces, serving up a grand slam in its final act. Encompassing 65,000 years of history, the last 230 or so of which have been pretty ordinary for First Nations folks, Game. Set. Match. traces a curveball of astonishing proportions, hinging on memory and consequence.
Davies is a brilliant partner in this doubles match, ricocheting from pathetic to prince charming and back, then on to something much starker as he and Wilding pitch and swerve around her layered, impressively unravelling piece.
Almost everything you see here, from a half-eaten plate of strawberries to the rustle of plastic wrap, is laden with meaning. Rainbow Chan’s subtly shifting sound design and Amelia Lever-Davidson’s striking lighting are more than a match for Wilding’s wit, tipping the advantage as power, play and penance fold into one. Arthur is on her toes for where it all goes. Let’s just say you won’t forget the final scene in a hurry.
You great big tease. Ok, who’ll love Game. Set. Match.?
Anyone who loves laughing out loud, then suddenly panicking that maybe you’re not supposed to, then slinking off into the night, mulling over a show that makes you feel like you’re unable to look at sandwiches in quite the same way ever again.
Because Wilding’s words are truly mighty, serving pointed dialogue that whacks her targets where they least expect it. We’re all winners for watching her at work.
'Game. Set. Match.' is on now at Malthouse's Beckett Theatre until May 23, 2026. For more information and to book tickets, head to the website.
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