Toying with words
Toy
Symphony opens with Roland Henning (Richard Roxburgh), a
chronic substance abuser, engaged in psychological warfare. He
needs help to clear his writer’s bock, but he’s not
open to the process of analysis. He distances himself from the
psychologist (Justine Clarke) with the only weapon at his disposal
– words. As I watch and listen to him ducking and weaving
her questions it occurs to me that if he could write the way he
talked, he wouldn’t have to be there.
But, as the psychologist neatly points out, his
words help keep him in denial about his problem. And so we begin
the journey into the heart and mind of one of Australia’s
great playwrights, directed by one of Australian theatre’s
pre-eminent talents, starring that national treasure known as
Richard Roxburgh. Because it’s very clear from Roland’s
first monologue that we are in for a treat.
It also becomes clear from the program that this
is familiar territory for Gow. He previously wrote a play featuring
Roland Henning called Furious. The story of a “playwright
cloyed by the pitfalls of his life and work – awards ceremonies,
seminars to young hopefuls and his love for a schoolboy and the
mysterious legacy of a deceased fan.” There are also references
in Toy Symphony to Sweet Phoebe, a Gow play
about a young couple’s whose lives are irrevocably changed
when she loses her friend’s dog.
For a writer there’s no more personal journey
than examining the debilitating effects of writer’s block.
It’s gut wrenching and visceral stuff that tears at the
fabric of a writer’s essential self. Gow explores this issue
with magical realism, drama and sheer unadulterated child like
joy, aided in no small part by the musical talents of Paul Charlier.
The set is practically non-existent – the
essence of minimalism. Chairs and other mobile props, such as
a projector, are set and struck as necessary. Roxburgh develops
a very close relationship with a chair, upon which he spends a
lot of time brooding, like a Rodin sculpture.
The
play charts the influences from Gow’s past. There is a gorgeous
scene where Roxburgh reverts to childhood. We meet his teacher,
Mrs Walkham, a lovely old dear, patient as the ages and wonderfully
connected to her young charges. Roland has a rather peculiar affliction
- he can conjure dead heroes to visit him in the flesh. It’s
a talent that distresses adults and entertains kids. To stop seeing
dead people, Mrs Walkham suggests he write it all down. With the
kudos of the resurrected dead lost to him, bullying sets in. Then
Roland meets Nick the Greek, who scares the bullies off, only
to lose his friend to illness. Then he loses his parents and takes
up drugs again. But don’t worry, it’s not all down
hill from there.
Roxburgh is supported by a stellar cast. Justine
Clarke and Russell Dykstra both morph from character to character
with ease and accomplishment. Guy Edmonds gives good Greek and
the perennial Monica Maughan is totally endearing as Mrs Walkham,
It’s not just the inner landscape Gow charts
in Toy Symphony that captivates and entertains, it’s
the way he’s chosen to explore it. There’s a lot of
humour, much of it self-deprecating. The characters are warm and
generous, reaching out to help. There’s a lot of love and
gratitude in this play in addition to the dark nights of the soul
and personal demons. As much as Roland may resent the Freudian-ness
of the solution, it’s only by journeying back to his childhood
that he finds a way forward as an adult.
Roxburgh is the consummate professional. He has
the kind of stage presence that holds your attention and doesn’t
let go for the entire play. And he makes it look effortless. Only
the sweat stains on his shirt give any indication of the effort
that goes into each performance. Roxburgh inhabits the skin of
Roland as if born to the role.
Toy Symphony is theatre at its most intimate,
engrossing, entertaining, joyful and moving.
Philippa Wherrett
