Quollity: Black Swan’s Extinction

It’s an interesting coincidence that there are two plays currently playing on national mainstages that deal quite substantially with the idea of extinction. Malthouse’s They Saw A Thylacine, and Black Swan’s Extinction talk around and about the issue, not just examining its ramifications, but also about the role we humans play in the process, the way we can prevent mass extinctions through changing the way we behave and act. Hannie Rayson’s Extinction adds another layer to the mix, in examining the idea of ‘clean’ and ‘dirty’ money – money that comes from ethically-grey sources, in this case, a coal-mining company. It’s a bold move for Black Swan to produce this play, as their major sponsor is mining giant Rio Tinto, and the play’s very existence further examines this idea simply by being programmed, staged, and written about.

Red heart: Sydney Festival & Malthouse’s The Shadow King

“The greatest of all epics about nation, is finally an epic about our nation,” proclaims the promotional material for Sydney Festival’s presentation of The Shadow King, and there is much in this production to recognise, in both the Aboriginal nation and in the ‘white’ Australia. The first thing you notice when you enter the space at Carriageworks, is the red earth, a vivid orange only amplified by the lights. To one side sit a rock band – guitars, Hammond organ, didgeridoo – while the middle of the space is dominated by a marvellous overbearing metal evocation of a gargantuan mining truck which turns and slides forward, mechanised and invasive; violating the red sacred earth.

Directed by Michael Kantor from an idea by himself and Tom E. Lewis (who plays Lear), it follows much the same progression as Shakespeare’s text. It too is about familial conflict, power, land and entitlement; about learning humility, learning how to see when you are blind. Originally presented by Melbourne’s Malthouse Theatre in 2013, we are introduced at the outset to the Fool (Kamahi Djordon King), who serves as a framing device for the telling of the story, all at once part of it and outside of it, a bit like a spiritual songman, drawing past present and future together. Eschewing Shakespeare’s iambic pentameter in favour of a contemporary translation workshopped by the cast in several local Aboriginal languages, the core of the story is never lost in translation, nor do you need subtitles; the language is just as expressive and direct as Shakespeare’s, and when spoken from the red earth, it breathes with a new life and vitality.