Meaning lies both in and just behind language. Whoever speaks a line, when and how can bend the truth of it in any direction.
It’s why new readings of Shakespeare’s plays are still altering our understanding of centuries-old texts. Of course, in his day, every player was a man, including the star-cross’d Juliet and the bloody-palmed Lady Macbeth. From the very start, subtle layers were woven into the lines through this gender-subversion.
So I was fascinated by the idea of women and non-binary performers adopting the increasingly odious male personas of Australian playwright Patricia Cornelius’ Savages, her astonishingly powerful takedown of so-called casual misogyny that spirals into something dreadful.
While The Bard’s works are re-spun on our stages ad infinitum, it’s disappointingly uncommon for our own playwrights, unless it’s a Ray Lawler or a Joanna Murray-Smith.
So, what’s this new read on Savages all about?
First performed at fortyfivedownstairs in 2013, then directed by Cornelius’ regular collaborator Susie Dee, Savages starred Mark Tregonning as the hulking Craze; James O’Connell as the preening sex addict, Rabbit; Luke Elliot as the little big man Runt; and Lyall Brooks as sly guy George. As they board a cruise ship getaway, Cornelius loosely based what follows on the real-life tragedy of Dianne Brimble, the 42-year-old Brisbane mother of three found dead on the floor of a cabin shared by four men, with an overdose of GHB in her system and troubling question marks over consent.
So, when you swap in Laila Thaker as the punch-drunk Craze, Aya as the bruised ego Rabbit, Cornelius regular Nicci Wilks as the over-compensating Runt, and Zoe Boesen as the harder-to-get-a-handle-on George, there’s an immediate frisson between the casting and the audience’s understanding of them.
One that this Theatre Works production’s director, Kitan Petkovski (Sugar, The Inheritance) leans hard into. The quartet first appear as animalistic bodies writhing near-naked on a cruise ship deck designed by set and costume designer Bianca Pardo. A prophetic curse of sorts, they’ve already surrendered to their basest form, beasts locking horns.
Petkovski breaks the spell of this portentous prologue, intriguingly complicating matters as they roll on deck in bright and breezy summer florals, ebullient with jolly banter and deploying a bulky hulk of luggage for maximum physical comedy. There’s a hint of Shirley Valentine sarong-wrapped with bawdy farce.
Is Savages this a comedy or a tragedy?
Definitely both, and therein lies our complicit discomfort. We’ve all been in a pub when a band of boisterous blokes’ goofiness elicits an involuntary smirk, only for that half-smile to curdle into a risk assessment-prompting grimace. That ever-present danger of high spirits, where one drink and a sniff too many can turn ugly.
Each of the ‘men’ performs a ritual disrobing, in boarding the ship, letting go of both of their deliberately counterintuitive feminine-coded attire, minus the drag queen heightening, and their characters’ regrets. Each of the men is spinning a narrative that bears little resemblance to their lived reality, unhappy with their lot but determined not to let on.
Wilks, so good in Runt – co-created with Cornelius and Dee – is excellent here, too, with his same-named character hopelessly ensnared by expectation, flinty at the merest mention of his height, muscling up to pumped gym bro Rabbit, demanding they measure up.
For their part, non-binary performer Aya is the best in show, adeptly baring Rabbit’s wounds. He’s cut off for wallowing too deeply in their collective miseries, hero-worshipping a dad who was physically abusive. There’s a queer eroticism to the way the other men obsess over his bed-notching. For his part, the Viagra-fuelled Rabbit sees sexual conquest as a game, unable to truly enjoy the rewards.
Thaker is similarly impressive as the boundary-pushing Craze, a livewire who’ll electrocute everyone in the wash. He insists his ex is still deeply in love with him, even as the nit-picking George points out she divorced him and took out a restraining order. While George seems the most reasonable at first glance, he’s a fond of niggling and prodding, with Boesen’s height amplifying her character’s sway.
This sounds like a fascinating set-up!
It is. Cornelius’ snappy dialogue barely lets up, flexing a keen grasp of the dark side of performative larrikinism that constantly wrong-foots us. Petkovski’s atypical casting only heightens the underlying commentary on toxic masculinity and how easily chest-beating leads to a predatory pack mentality.
The men decide they must pull at all costs on the first night, setting their sights on 15-year-old sisters, and the mum who sweeps them away.
As they get increasingly desperate, dropping their ‘standards’ overboard, their unseen target is any woman who never deserved their growling attention. Jess Keeffe’s spot-on score staggers from pop to 4am pills and beer swill pulses matched by lighting designer Harrie Hogan’s strobing.
Who would love Savages?
Anyone unafraid of witnessing the worst we’re capable of. Gender bends and breaks as Aya, Thaker, Wilks and Boesen’s bristling performances ensure you wouldn’t want to be caught in a below-deck room devoid of portholes alone with them. Truly terrifying to behold, their broken mirror reflection of misogyny is a jagged and bitter pill to swallow.
Petkovski’s firm grip on the text underlines that Cornelius is one of our finest, her
wise words malleable enough that their meaning floats to the surface in any form.
Savages is at Theatre Works until 12 September. Book tickets here.