Memories are a funny thing. It is often hard to remember the pain or joy of something, only the memory of how you felt. It’s an interesting premise on which to tell a story, a memory. As Justine Clarke points out with Fleabag-esque humour in this one-woman show: “Of course I'm just giving you one side, that’s what happens when there is one person talking”.
Clarke is a revelation as the unnamed, middleaged storyteller, recounting with great gumption and off-handed humour how she met her husband, fell in love, had children and ultimately lost them all. Her embodiment of the character is palpable. Despite the risk of being enveloped by the wide pink and red living room set (designed by Ailsa Paterson), she stands her ground, with lighting by Nigel Levings spotlighting her around the vast space as she tells her story.
Dennis Kelly’s telling script is just that though, a ‘telling’ – a picture of middle-class mediocrity, suddenly thrilling and then tedious with dragging dialogue that often struggles to sustain its gravitas. This is largely due to the script’s awkward cadence – a monologue of memories is interspersed with present day imaginations of memories of Clarke’s character with her children. In the monologues, the audience is engaged, Kelly’s script is filled with clever observations and quips like “the 24-hour news cycle is just pain porn” and imagery like “the suicide green carpet” that bring the ‘telling’ to life and often invite a chuckle. But in-between these moments, the show loses momentum, and audiences may start to fade.
On its surface, Girls and Boys appears to be a shallow look at middle-class jealousy, but as the storytelling continues, it becomes a reflection of the way devastating and unspeakable things can happen to anyone. The show makes its point, but it’s a tedious journey (particularly if you’re sitting in the first four rows, pick seats further back to avoid a crooked neck).
To those who are game to have their heart ripped out by an all-too-real narrative about family violence, this could be the outing for you. And those that love a Fleabag-esque aside, I say “Ahh bollocks, give it a go!”
Girls & Boys is playing at Everest Theatre, Seymour Centre until January 15, 2023 as part of Sydney Festival. Get your tickets here.
This production contains coarse language, adult themes, family violence themes and descriptions of graphic violence and suicide.
If you or someone you know is impacted by sexual assault, domestic or family violence, call 1800RESPECT on 1800 737 732 or visit 1800RESPECT.org.au.
For support or information around depression and anxiety, for yourself, a friend or family member, call Beyond Blue on 1300 22 4636 or visit beyondblue.org.au.
