So rich and raw, humorous and moving. This is a slice of life piece about a precious friendship forged between two girls at the age of 13 that carries them through to adulthood today, 22 years later.
Isabella Yena plays Sam and Mich McCowage is Holly. The two “girls” meet at try outs for spots as ball kids at a tennis training camp. Holly arrives first, methodically slathers all her exposed areas in suncream and offers some to Sam when she turns up. Sam’s approach is far more slap dash. Both are dressed in white trainers and socks, a black polo top and black shorts.
Sam is resentful that her older sister is there as a coach. Sam’s demeanour – her facial expression and abrupt turn of her back – speaks volumes. So it is that at first the youngsters tentatively connect, but in next to no time they form a lifelong bond.
On a ‘scoreboard’ (stage left), year after year – from 2004 to 2026 – is ‘ticked off’, with a name given to each, e.g. Starry Night, Personality Test, Porn, University #1 (Work), Postcards, Dance and so on. The girls deal with real life issues including sex and sexuality, study, careers, travel, the COVID-19 lockdown and relationships with curiosity, embarrassment, yearning, warmth and heart.
Their connection is palpable. The dialogue – fly on the wall material, such that it is – is delightful to witness in such adept hands. The strength in the acting is next level. The way Yena and McCowage carry themselves, their facial and body movements, their mood swings, is priceless. Such impressive, natural, real, heartfelt performances, both.
Sometimes the focus is on one. Then, the other. But it is never about anything other than their connection and much of the play is spent with the two bouncing off each other … wonderfully.
It is not easy for any adult actor to play a young teenager convincingly. Yet, this pair manages to do so to get the ball rolling (so to speak). Huge plaudits for that. And then we are privy to their development, their maturation appearing before our eyes – the equivalent of time lapse photography on the stage.
The constant is a repeated reaffirmation of the following sign off when the pair is separated: “Love you. Miss you. Wish you were here.” And it doesn’t sound cheesy or manufactured just for the sake of it. Time and again, the words carry the necessary meaning.
A touching speech, with a phenomenal monologue from Yena as Sam in the penultimate scene, is one of the many highlights of the offering. From that to the delightful wrap, with the women sitting alongside each other in the final stanza, brings it home beautifully.
The merit in this production too is in the attention to detail that forms part of the fine writing by Liv Satchell. She has carefully crafted tasty morsels, vignettes of lives and loves, challenges and triumphs, captured as annual snapshots. In the program notes she writes about meeting her best friend, Grace, in May 2015, just three months after relocating to Melbourne and how they fell in love immediately. As she indicates so eloquently, Ballkids (or, scenes from a friendship) “advocates for this most underappreciated and crucial human relationship”.
Julian Dibley-Hall, who co-directs the work with such spirit, alongside Satchell, writes about loving and valuing friendship “more highly than almost anything else in the world”. He goes on to say that “having a good friend is a balm, an inspiration, a support, and a joy. Having a best friend is … well, the best.”
Ballkids, which is enlivened by resonant sound design from Tom Backhaus, lighting design by John Collopy, production design by Filipe Filihia and movement direction from Xanthe Beesley (bravo to all), captures that essence magnificently. Seventy-five minutes in length, it is an emotional journey, at fortyfivedownstairs until 24th September 2026, well worth taking.
* Hero photo by Jack Dixon-Gunn
Alex First
Other reviews you might enjoy:
- kerosene/SIRENS (fortyfivedownstairs) – theatre review
- Miss Julie (fortyfivedownstairs) – theatre review ★★★★½
- Travesties (Bloomsday in Melbourne) – theatre review
Alex First is the editor of The Blurb. Alex is a Melbourne based journalist and communications specialist. He also contributes to The Blurb on film and theatre.