In an isolated home in the north of this sunburnt country, three generations of women gather outside the family home – a fourth generation playing inside. Something has happened down south, so they’ve got to stay together for a while. Bub (Tahlee Fereday) has to run around after her kids while trying to keep in contact with the rest of the world. Her Mum (Lisa Maza) is working remotely, much to the consternation of her sister (Aunty, played by real-life sister Rachel Maza), who is looking after their mother, Nan (Trisha Morton-Thomas).
Nan is
passing on stories, like the matriarch of any clan might, about the family,
about past loves, about the Country they live on. But there’s subtle signs of
memory loss and dementia and she’s not all that mobile anymore, so she’s more
and more reliant on Aunty and the rest of the family when they are around.
Black
Light by Jada Alberts
is gently told, teasing out the family drama, while leaving the traumas outside
to live in our imaginations. At times I thought they were trapped by the
circumstances of a cyclone or some other natural disaster.
For a bit I thought of the work-from-home orders that came during COVID lockdowns.
At times, the play suggests something altogether more apocalyptic: a wrenching
change in society and the earth below.
Dale
Ferguson’s extraordinary set suggests the extreme panoramas of the Northern
Territory. Out from under the eaves of the house, there’s a patch of land that
sometimes looks like desert and sometimes like a pool of water. Jenny Hector’s
extraordinary lighting design brings us in and out of scenes with a patchwork
of lightning strikes – and as night falls, strips of light off in the distance
that illuminate like the sun is just below the horizon. The imagery throughout this
production is extraordinary.
Alberts’
writing is a thrilling combination of the poetic and the mundane. This family
has their petty dramas, informed by long-held baggage, but the passing of
knowledge and history is formed into the most exquisite monologues. The
direction – also by Alberts – is simple, naturalistic by design. We are there
with them, listening and watching – and in one extraordinary moment, implicated
in their oppression.
The entire
ensemble works so beautifully together. The Maza sisters as sisters feels
natural in a way that you’d hope from that casting, but real-life family
onstage doesn’t always crackle like this. Trisha Morton-Thomas plays the
failing memory of Nan with a great deal of compassion, and she tells stories
like you’d want your grandma to – full of enthusiasm and too much detail. It’s
Tahlee Fereday that really stands out, showing us the clear struggle of character in Bub that is
happy to be surrounded by their family while also fielding calls from the place
they now call home.
There was the occasional moment, when the family drama was dialled up, that jarred with the more meditative approach of the rest of the play. But most of the time, this production has the audience fully immersed in a place and a feeling of connection with family - as the storms of the world rage on around them. Totally compelling and wonderfully heartfelt.
- Keith Gow, Theatre First
Black Light is playing at the Malthouse until March 7th
Photos: Pia Johnson
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