This review appeared in an edited form on artsHub.
A sharp triangular
fragment of a room – a lounge room, a roaring fire, a couch, armchair. To one
side, a desk stuffed with papers and a typewriter. A spiral staircase winding through
the ceiling; a book-lined room off the side. This is the world of author
Patricia Highsmith as envisaged in Sydney
Theatre Company’s production of Switzerland,
a new play by Joanna
Murray-Smith originally commissioned by Geffen Playhouse
in Los Angeles .
Here, on a set purportedly based on Highsmith’s home in Switzerland , it is always dark
outside, while inside all manner of murderous deeds are concocted alongside plots
for future novels. Featuring many nods to her body of work, as well as drawing
upon the rich connotations and associations of the genre and period itself, Switzerland sees Highsmith – the author
of the Tom Ripley novels
as well as Strangers on a
Train and The Two Faces of
January – becoming the subject of an enthralling two-hander
stage-thriller set late in her life.
Safely ensconced
in her Switzerland
eyrie, her work is interrupted by a visit from a young man, an American, Edward
Ridgeway, who says he has come from her publishers to see if she won’t sign a
contract for another Ripley novel. As the play – and the days – progress, the
ageing author and her young visitor become locked in a game of wits and words
from which there can only be one escape. Directed by STC Resident Director Sarah
Goodes, Switzerland
sets out at a cracking pace, a rapid-fire succession of questions-answers-more
questions, as Patricia (the character) and Edward try to fathom each other out.
As this first act gives way to the second and third, the pace slows into
something of an elegant game of cat-and-mouse or cards, as the allure of a new
novel and the tantalising prospect of seeing a great author in action become
too much for them to bear, and they try not to reveal their full hand to the
other just yet. It’s scintillating, mesmerising, sexy and more than a bit
heady, as their exchanges become charged with a tangible buzz, a hum of
possibility, danger and something else – the presence of the inevitable ending.
Sarah Peirse as a
bewigged Patricia is mesmerising, her voice and mannerisms gruff and
ambiguously masculine. As fiery and passionate as she is a skilled writer and
manipulator of characters and words, Peirse’s Patricia is a force to be
reckoned with, and she finds her match in Eamon
Farren’s Edward. Murray-Smith’s Patricia, like her real-life counterpart,
is not afraid to speak her mind, regardless of whom she might offend, and she is
as fearless
as she is controlling and articulate. Despite starting out as a relatively
fresh-seeming young man, Farren soon transforms into more than just a foil to
the cantankerous septuagenarian. As with so many of his performances, there’s a
cheekiness and a capriciousness to Farren that is utterly beguiling, and as he
comes out of his shell and stakes out his ground, he begins to roar and prowl,
while Patricia roars back, both giving as good as they get and not backing
down. There’s a marvellous scene about halfway through when Edward challenges
Patricia for details of the new Ripley novel and you start to see the story
take shape before your eyes; soon, the two of them are throwing ideas back and
forth and it’s as thrilling as it is frustratingly tantalising – such an
encounter never happened.
Michael
Scott-Mitchell’s set, Nick Schlieper’s lighting and Steve Francis’ sound are
all splendid, creating the rich and interior world of the author without losing
any of the suspense or downplaying any of the genre-trappings which go with the
thriller. Patricia has a line early on in the play about how she likes the
darkness because you can do so much more than in the daytime, because
everything seems edgier, sharper, more intriguing. There’s a veritable
knife-edge in Murray-Smith’s play, and it is a delight to see such an
engrossing, smart, clever and at times disarmingly funny play tackle the very
questions which plague any author or creator – ideas of longevity, worth,
reception, reputation. There’s a relentlessness to the play, an unforgiving
drive and a refusal to go gently into the long night ahead, and Murray-Smith
and her Patricia, just as much as the real Highsmith, are darker and more
ambiguous – more fascinating – people, characters, than we could ever imagine.
If you’d been
following the signposts as the play hurtled towards its conclusion, you might
have seen Murray-Smith’s twist coming, and while it seems slightly too easy an
answer, it is still every bit as thrilling and brilliant as it should be, and still
manages to come as a shock. As the lights dim, you cannot help but smile at the
last moments, at the dramatic irony of details of Patricia’s final story
becoming her own final moments. While the production is strong and more than
engrossing, there seems to be a slow pocket about an hour in, which it will no
doubt navigate as the production finds its feet. Alongside Children
of the Sun and Noises
Off, this is one of the strongest productions at the Sydney Theatre
Company this year, and is an absorbing and hypnotic piece of theatre.
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