“the
dogs of the apocalypse lie at her feet, ears alert… waiting…”
Pearl and
her mother Dot have moved to the mining town of Wittenoom in Western Australia,
a town of mostly men who need shelter and looking after. They open up their
front verandah as a room and they charge for food and board plus extra for mending
things. Dot spends most nights at the pub, using the name Patsy, after Patsy
Cline: a name she says sounds more glamorous than Dot – a mark on the
landscape.
There is a
strict hands-off policy for the men who board with Dot and Pearl, but Dot finds
her own fun at the pub – spending just enough time with men to satisfy herself.
Pearl has a tougher time of it, growing up without other kids around, having to
make her own fun – but one of the highlights of her childhood is getting
dressed up to go to the races, to see the men in their fancy suits and women hiding
under fascinators.
It’s early
on in the play, though not in the lives of the characters, that Dot is diagnosed
with mesothelioma – the scourge of Wittenoom, a town that mined blue asbestos.
She’s given three months to live and she refuses to accept that anyone can tell
her when she is going to die.
Wittenoom,
the real town, was established in 1950. It was named by mining magnate Lang
Hancock, after his partner in a nearby sheep station, Frank Wittenoom. It’s no
longer a town; the mine closed in 1966, though the town’s power grid remained
switched on until 2006 and its final resident left only last year.
The declared-contaminated
site was the inspiration for the song “Blue Sky Mine” by Midnight Oil but its story
has faded into the past, though some thrillseekers still travel there as a kind
of extreme tourism. Similar to those who visit Chernobyl for fun.
Wittenoom, the play, by Mary Anne Butler is
exquisite in its poetry. The text sketches out the lay of the land, the
vibrancy of the town and its fleshed-out centre is the vivid characterisations
of Dot and Pearl. We skip around in time, joining the pair for their wide-eyed moments
and slowly pulled into the darkness that surrounds them.
Set
Designer Dann Barber gives us a Welcome to Wittenoom sign that’s broken; the
words faded and tiles of the billboard missing. Dust is spread across it and
piled under it. The sign dominates the space and stands over the actors, who
spin around its base and occasionally climb up to it, in moments of ecstasy or
revelation.
Lighting Designer
Rachel Burke tints everything in blue, a subtle but constant reminder of the
asbestos being mined and being breathed in. Burke illuminates the characters
and the billboard but leaves everything else to the darkness, making the
intimate Red Stitch space feel like it’s on the edge of the vast outback desert
of the Pilbara.
Susie Dee’s
direction allows for pauses to accentuate the poetry of Butler’s writing and encourages
the actors to dance in the dust and disappear into the darkness before finding
the light again. Images of movement and stillness are indelible parts of this
production for me. Movement and text in perfect symbiosis.
Emily
Godard’s Pearl acts as narrator for much of the play, slipping between the open-mouthed
child and the toughened older version, seemingly with ease. Godard also has
moments playing other townsfolk and boarders, and she is able to elicit
memorable characterisations in a perfectly-chosen stance and a single line of
dialogue. As always, Godard’s work is astonishing.
Caroline
Lee’s performance as Dot is compelling and devastating. Lee slyly shoots off Dot’s
wicked sense of humour before twisting into the unbreakable mother and the
hardened woman who is facing her own mortality. It’s not a straight line
between loving life and confronting death though. Lee’s Dot is a fully-realised
human being from the beginning. We might get a glimpse of the end early on, but
Lee makes Dot the kind of person you want to watch in any situation. Lee’s work
here is a triumph.
A recurring
line in “Blue Sky Mine” is who’s gonna save me and in Mary Anne Bulter’s
Wittenoom the answer might be nobody, because the truth of the town is
too awful to bear. But that’s not to say that in the darkness, on the edge of
the desert, you can’t find moments of beauty even when time is running out.
Wittenoom is superb; full of humour and
pathos, gorgeous to listen to and beautiful to look at. It reminds us of a dark
chapter of the Australian story, exposing it to the light and reminding us of
the real people at its centre.
- Keith Gow, Theatre First
Travel back in time to Wittenoom at Red Stitch until February 19th.
Photos: Jodie Hutchinson
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