When Western Sydney playwright S Shakthidharan first invited us into Counting and Cracking, his collective and poetic reckoning with Sri Lanka’s devastating civil war (1983 to 2009) and the persecution of the Tamil peoples, its simple staging made way for magnetic storytelling driven by character.
There was little need for bells and whistles with a voice as strong as his. Instead, the drama spun out in a dusty courtyard. The actors’ magnificent performances were enough, aided with simple props, signposts, musicians on stage and a heart of dance.
Co-written and directed with Belvoir lead Eamon Flack, The Jungle and the Sea, now playing at MTC’s Southbank Theatre, looks very similar at first glance.
Once again, the transportation relies on the bare bones of a tall-walled courtyard. But there’s a huge difference in Dale Ferguson’s set design: here, there is no door, and the stone is pocked with bullet holes.
So is The Jungle and the Sea spinning a similar story?
Yes and no. While Counting and Cracking spent more time in Sydney, turning on its wounded heel to look back at the desperate race to escape war, here we mostly live through that horror, with a brief glimpse at a brighter future in the Harbour City.
We see waves of fear and loathing crash over the island nation as the Sinhalese government brutally clamps down on the Tamil Tiger insurgency, with all-too devastating echoes of Israel’s merciless destruction of Gaza and its repeated declaration of ‘safe’ zones, only to massacre the terrified souls who flee there.
Fair warning, you will cry many rivers.
Who’s in The Jungle and the Sea?
The Jungle and the Sea opens on joyous family frolics as the gangly Ahilan (Counting and Cracking star Shiv Palekar) plays with his sisters Lakshmi (Emma Harvie), a proud atheist, the bubbly Madhu (Nadie Kammallaweera) and bossy Abi (Kalieaswari Srinivasan).
They spin and weave on the near-constantly rotating, rickety revolve that takes up most of the courtyard setting and is almost as loud as heavy rain on a tin roof. While that rat-a-tat-tat is distracting, thankfully the cast are more than up to overcoming its vague nuisance, though the mics could use turning up a notch.
Once again, mesmeric Bharathanatyam and Kuchipudi dancer Anandavalli – Shakthidharan’s mother – plays the matriarch, or ‘Amma’, with her serene yet serious presence softened by the gentle nature of her husband, ‘Appa’, played by fellow Counting and Cracking alum and movie star Prakash Belawadi.
Amma isn’t best pleased by the shoo-fly presence of Himal (Rajan Velu), who has the hots for Abi, much to the delight of the dreamer Madhu, the sort most likely to believe in fairytale endings. This, even with Himal and Abi’s religious difference a flashpoint in a time when that is fraught business.
Just as we’ve grown accustomed to their lilting rhythms, once again aided by Carnatic music from players perched on a low dais to one side of the stage – Arjunan Puveendran and Hari Sivanesan on opening night – war comes crashing in.
So things get grim?
They do. With Sri Lanka’s complicated overlapping of religions and ethnic backgrounds limiting those who could flee the war, even within the same family, difficult decisions had to be made, with loyalties tested and broken.
Ahilan’s ear is bent by his government-aligned uncle, Kishan (Dushan Philips), signing up to the army that’s brutally bearing down on Tamil fighters. Meanwhile, it’s decided Appa will take Lakshmi to Sydney.
As we jump along the play’s delicately drawn timeline, we see Lakshmi subtly transformed in a silk shirt and slacks, with Ferguson also on costume design. She takes her dad to a posh restaurant ensconced under the Opera House sails in a memorable coming-out scene on her graduation day from law school.
Appa can hardly believe he has raised a queer, atheist daughter who is also now Australian. While his befuddlement in this beautifully judged scene is played light of heart, there’s nevertheless an undercurrent of the complexity of navigating overlapping identity and the loss of a separated family. More of the tiny but pricey entrees will be required (props to the immersive hug of Sri Lankan snacks offered at each interval on opening night).
Amma, meanwhile, refuses to leave, staying to raise her remaining daughters in their customs, no matter the cost, and donning a deeply mythological blindfold until such time as the family is reunited. Anandavalli and Belawadi are once again astonishing.
So there’s a happy ending, right?
Is there ever, in war? Shakthidharan and Flack’s bowl-you-over work cuts deep.
Puveendran’s ravishing score becomes suitably ominous when the Sri Lankans are thrown from post to pillar by machine gun-bearing soldiers, choreographed by fight director Nigel Poulton.
Damien Cooper’s startling lighting design stands in for the blinding flash of the life-stealing shots that ring out, assisted by death-beating percussion and sound designer Steve Francis’ stark amplification of this horror.
A splash of scarlet face paint says it all when loved ones fall. Those who stayed are forced between the sea and a lagoon as life itself fractures. Those who left must return to pick up the pieces in a country still unsure of how on earth you can move on from such senseless slaughter. The jungle is no escape.
Who will love The Jungle and the Sea?
Anyone willing to be utterly transformed. That Shakthidharan and Flack can still locate such luminosity in the darkest paces of this unrelenting horror is both testament to their artistry and the indomitable nature of humanity.
Much like Counting and Cracking, the darkness can only hold so much sway. The human spirit is wont not only to survive, but thrive, finding happiness, love and silliness in hopeless places. This is a story of determination and joy as much as it is one of deep woe at the pathetic stupidity of inherently violent men.
Both Australian and Sri Lankan, The Jungle and the Sea is vital theatre. A call for peace, love, unity and understanding, it’s a cry in the endless night of war, beseeching it to end and never begin again. We are all the better for it.
Melbourne Theatre Company's 'The Jungle and the Sea' is on now at Southbank Theatre until September 12, 2026. For more information and to book tickets, head to the website.
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