To paraphrase the famous saying: art should be as simple as possible, but no simpler. That’s not to say that art shouldn’t be complex or ambitious if those intricacies are the most effective way to tell the story. Take, for example, STC’s thoroughly accomplished production of The Picture of Dorian Gray, one of the most head-spinningly elaborate and densely layered pieces of theatre ever seen on a Sydney stage. It would be quite impossible to tell that story, in the stylised vernacular it chooses, without every detail present.
Playwright and director S Shakhidharan’s 宿 (Stay), a hybrid mash-up of dance, theatre, music and history, is similarly an extremely well-heeled production with a lot of sophistication at its disposal. And yet, its many constituent elements rarely seem to actually further the audience’s understanding or empathy for the play’s characters or their experiences. If anything, these bells and whistles get in the way of a good story.
On paper, this production promises a narrative that is both blazingly relevant and deserving of an audience’s attention, exploring the diaspora of Asian prospectors who came to Australia seeking their fortune at the end of the 19th century; the way cultures, once in diametric opposition, have become intertwined over time; how inherited traumas echo across decades; and how those historical wounds – wounds upon wounds – may never fully heal. However, the means by which this narrative unfolds is sometimes more concerned with technical showboating than championing this story’s potential for powerful emotional truth. By turns, there are moments of highly stylised physicality, of unvarnished naturalism, of poetic oratory, of video art, and of sound painting, but it’s hard to sense if any of these creative frissons actually belong together or convincingly cohere to serve a common goal.
The set features a series of raked platforms and 14 large screens suspended in a cross configuration across the width of the stage. The purpose of these screens is largely to weave in recorded video and sound elements from Singapore-based music ensemble SAtheCollective. There are also interludes where video is used more functionally to establish place, but even though these screens are an imposing presence within the stage picture, they often feel underutilised. There are large portions of the show when they merely display a dark and empty studio like some kind of theatrical screen saver, and other scenes when they essentially play the function of a painted backdrop – inert, static and unchanging. Screens of some sort are necessary, by virtue of this show incorporating an overseas cast, but the number of screens and their configuration have the potential for so much more. Film can be a transformative element in live theatre, exploding the stage’s dimensions both visually and emotionally – a missed opportunity in this production.
The three in-person performers, of Western Sydney-based theatre company Kurinji – Aimee Falzon, Jasmin Sheppard and Charles Wu – shift nimbly across multiple roles and disciplines, which in itself is an impressive feat. However, with such a wide spectrum of skills required of each artist, hopscotching between playing musical instruments, physical theatre and multiple dramatic roles, there are corners of their individual performances that shine less brightly than others. There’s a similar issue with the on-screen cast. Musically, SAtheCollective are superb, but the ensemble is also tasked with a substantial amount of acting, shouldering responsibility for a large portion of the show’s emotional heavy lifting. They do what they can, but without the acting abilities to do justice to these characters – like a mother obsessed with success and the perception of her family’s greatness, who has failed to notice her very high-achieving son’s drinking – a cornerstone of the play’s emotional heft is missing, undermining the stability of the whole.
S Shakhidharan is an extremely capable storyteller – his smash-hit play Counting and Cracking, produced as an epic production at Sydney Town Hall by Belvoir, was one of the great theatrical sensations of 2019. However, 宿 (Stay) seems yet to find its final form – there are a lot of competing creative ideas jostling for attention but they fracture the narrative’s pace rather than aiding its momentum. Without question, this is a story that audiences deserve to hear, but it’s also a story that deserves to be told more successfully.
