Posts Tagged ‘kate raison

04
Mar
19

Two

Two

Ensemble Theatre

QUT Gardens Theatre

March 1 & 2 2019

 

Reviewed by Shannon Miller

 

 

“First night in here? Well, you’ll get used to us. We’re a lively pub, but it’s, eh, calmed down a bit now.” In this busy two-hander, British playwright, Jim Cartwright’s Two, has married-in-real-life couple, Kate Raison (A Country Practice) and Brian Meegan (Sea Patrol, Water Rats) play Landlord and Landlady, along with 12 other characters between them.

 

 

Set in an indistinct hotel somewhere in regional Australia, the story is ostensibly about a publican’s acidic relationship with his wife, and the characters who patronise their bar on one particular night. They had their twenty-firsts there, their wedding reception, and now they own the “bloody” place, the Landlord protests in his opening monologue.

 

Raison and Meegan have good instincts as they seamlessly change costume, and tag team with revolving door precision to inhabit the other characters with a balance of parochial small-town cliché, and dark idiosyncrasy, essentially holding up a mirror to the frustrated psyche of those held prisoner to their regional fate and circumstance.

 

The set is simple: an unremarkable pub bar with stools, green and yellow chunder-coloured carpet, and a tarnished, hand-smudged bar mirror. The drunken nostalgic misery of the 80s blares Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up, Divinyls’ All the Boys in Town, Angels’ We Gotta Get Out of This Place, and Madness’ It Must Be Love as Landord and Landlady bicker ominously during a busy service. 

 

 

There’s a nameless old woman bemoaning into her beer how her life is practically over, and that her husband sits at home, watching the telly in the dark, drinking lemonade. “What’s it all about?” she opines. A little boy enters crying, looking for his dad; he’s been left in the car outside with some soft drink and chips, forgotten. Moth has a wandering eye, breaking the fourth wall to flirt with theatre goers, as his naïve girlfriend, Maude fusses over him, paying for his drinks, and gullibly trying to pin him down despite his unchangeable, smooth-talking ways.

 

Roy is violent, distrusting and possessive over his pregnant wife, Lesly. He interrogates her when she goes to the toilet, and physically strikes her at the slightest uprising.

 

While the language’s text is rooted in broad stereotypes, the characters’ words rise and twist around a poet’s tongue: “Fetch the butcher with his slaughtering kit,” the old woman says, “may I ask you all to raise your cleavers now please and finish the job, raise them for the bewildered and pig weary couples that have stuck, stuck it out.”

 

 

While the assignment of multiple roles encourages the audience to consider the elasticity of Raison and Meegan, we’re also invited to comment on the human condition. Raison and Meegan mime with props and relate to bodies which are not there, and while this is an obstacle for suspension of disbelief, it provides a disarming aesthetic as characters carry imaginary glasses overflowing with beer, and mutter with abstract repetition.

 

Based on dysfunctional domestic relationships, the vignettes, some stronger than others, are interesting, but are at times no more than short character studies, rather than fully developed flash narratives, which only serve to break tension and flow. In the 70 minutes running time there was virtually no sustaining story until the last 10 minutes. This is a comedy, too, albeit darkly humorous, and the audience tended to enjoy the show, laughing in the rights spots with some good-natured heckling.