This is one of those tricky reviews. I know for a FACT that everyone is going to love this and see it, and laugh and LOVE it. And I don’t know why, I didn’t. I didn’t love it. And I feel very alone in my opinion.

It sat in an awkward place for me – somewhere between cliche farce and symbol-rich naturalism. It felt like Ibsen without the intensity or environmental drive/purpose… it felt like Wilde but not as pithy or devastatingly sharp. I found the trajectory of the characters obvious and unsurprising and largely had very little reason to care. I am pretty certain I am alone in my response to this play. I can’t shake a couple of things I am carrying when I walked in – one in particular it felt like the STC was ticking some PC boxes with the programming of this one (new play, female writer, female director, “women’s issues”). I was immediately disappointed in the American accent – especially sailing off the cool breeze which is Speaking in Tongues. I was also hoping that the issues in the play were handled with a little more gravitas than a usual comic romp. I couldn’t help but wonder if this play had been written by a female Aussie writer if it had a look in? I have baggage. I’m not going to deny it. I wondered if a man had written this play, would we be so accepting of the cliches being presented? Could a man have directed this for the STC and not be seen as perpetuating negative female stereotypes? And this isn’t just because I am wrapped up in issues of the gender debate in Australian theatre.

I promise, I do have a sense of humour – there was one line I particularly liked and laughed at “Catherine: Sugar? Irving: No, I believe sugar is for women and little, fat boys.” But largely I felt that the lack of connection between the characters was played with the same snappy farce style that the first act spruiked – thus the play was fairly one tone in direction… and I felt an opportunity to really feel the tragedy was lost. I think this was partly the direction – but also partly the writing – which seemed choppy and like there were two plays happening in the one night, so much so when Elizabeth’s monologue, I seriously wondered what it was doing there?

I found the tokenistic representation of women was drawn without any relief – or progression and I was left in a strange place not knowing quite what to make of the genre, message, style. The desperate housewives, the lesbian nurse, the selfish and vain artist, the obsessive cold hearted scientist, the noble savage, the problem child… and yet there seemed to be much more tenderness- than we were allowed to hear or experience.

Look, maybe it’s just me?

I’m sure you’ll love it.

It’s just I didn’t.

First published on www.australianstage.com.au

Nominated in 2010 for three Tony Awards, and nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, Sarah Ruhl’s provocatively titled In the Next Room or the Vibrator Play is sure to be a runaway success for The Sydney Theatre Company. This is my prediction: women will empty the CBD’s offices in droves, head straight to the Drama Theatre at The Sydney Opera House for what will be seen as a high end girls night out, indulging in pricey sparkling wine, a sneaky chuckle and watching the magnificent Jacqueline McKenzie twinkle in the spotlight.

It is the dawn of a new era – Thomas Edison has provided the world with electricity, illuminating parlours across the world. The rosy, flickering glow of candlelight is phased out in favour of a quick flick of a switch. And the benefits of this bourgeoning technology is not going unnoticed or unutilized by medical practitioners, including Dr Givings (David Roberts). Dr Giving’s is a good doctor, so his wife Catherine (Jacqueline McKenzie) is so often told. Aided by his nurse, Annie (Mandy McElhinney), Dr Givings provides relief for those suffering from hysteria – a common condition of women, suffering from symptoms such as faintness, nervousness, insomnia, fluid retention, heaviness in abdomen, muscle spasm, shortness of breath, irritability, loss of appetite for food or sex (and in one journal it was said) “a tendency to cause trouble” – by firing up The Chattanooga Vibrator.

Catherine waits as her husband administers treatment to Sabrina Daldry (Helen Thomson) who has been brought in by her concerned husband (Marshall Napier) for treatment. Before too long, Sabrina is feeling sprightlier, perhaps even more robust, as a result of the treatment. Meanwhile, Catherine confronts her inadequacies as a mother when Dr Givings agrees to hire a wet nurse Elizabeth (Sara Zwangobani) to nourish their new baby.

After interval we meet the deeply troubled painter, Leo Irving (Josh McConville) who is, though a man, according to Dr Givings suffering symptoms of hysteria. He is after all an artist. And Irving too begins to feel the benefits of Dr Givings treatments – inspired to paint once more and he becomes close friends to Catherine in the process.

On a tri-fold card (procured from a less lucrative venue) quotes from In the Next Room or the Vibrator Play’s reception in The United States claim “If Henrik Ibsen and Oscar Wilde had decided to collaborate on a post modern drawing room comedy, the hotsy totsy twosome surely would have turned out something very much like Sarah Ruhl’s genuinely hysterical new work.” Unfortunately this is not so for me, considering the awe I have for Wilde’s wit and his penchant for structure and Ibsen’s complex characters – the comparison is only skin deep – or perhaps costume deep. Particularly difficult is the character of Elizabeth – written as a portrait of the era’s perspective on “Black women” – earthy, indelibly linked with nature and is little more than an overly earnest sketch of Dryden’s noble savage. Act one is a laboured joke about the desperateness of housewives, and upon walking out at interval, I was left wondering what the question of the play was. The second act was seemingly quite a different play – in genre and contained more questions which could have been introduced earlier in act one to trigger empathy with the characters.

Director Pamela Rabe, has indulged the comedy in this play in keeping with the mode of drawing room farce, keeping an even pace to the action and allowing the actors room to relish the audience response. However, the deep tragedy from which comedy is born is not fully felt – the sadness that perhaps not much has changed for women. The tragedy of unrequited love is glossed over, and the resolution of the questions of the play: What does it mean to love, physically and emotionally? What is the value of a physical expression of connection? What is it to be a woman, beyond the duty of being a woman? Are largely swept up in a climax which seems like a swift left turn in tone and intent for the play. There are deeper issues in this play and Rabe acknowledges this in the Sydney Morning Herald article on the play, but this is not fully realized in production.

Designer Tracy Grant Lord’s set is lavish – but awkward – and thematic design ideas seem to overwhelm the practical reality of the idea of the world of science/men/orgasms etc being firmly “locked away” from women. Despite this, the costuming is spectacular – and each time the costumes are taken on and off we are reminded of the absurdity and transience of women’s fashion.

My prediction continues – that despite my misgivings about the shortcomings of the writing, that audiences will delight at the taboo subject matter of female pleasure and desire, they will celebrate women being put front and centre on Sydney stages, and marvel at the magical performances of such an accomplished cast.