As a pre-show soundtrack reminds us, love is a drug, a crazy little thing and the thing of which sweet dreams are made. It is also very much all around courtesy of Trent Dalton’s Love Stories, appearing in its world premiere as part of the 2024 Brisbane Festival. The stage adaption of popular author Trent Dalton’s 2021 novel (with additional writing and story by Dalton and writer Fiona Frazmann) is multi-modal from its outset as our energetic narrator, Belgian busker Jean-Benoit (Rashidi Edward) drums us into the shadow of Brisbane City Hall’s clock tower where a sentimental (and charismatic) writer inspired by Dalton himself, known only as ‘Husband’ (Jason Klarwein), is armed with a Olivetti Studio 44 typewriter and a readiness to collect sad and happy love stories from random strangers from within our restless city.
The show’s anthology is of vignette stories of everyday people, including, an additional storyline contributed by Dalton and his wife, Franzmann, of the writer’s own relationship with Wife (Michala Banas), shown in all of messy same-argument domesticity. And Klarwein and Banas should both be commended for the honest, relatable authenticity they bring to the core narrative thread upon which the tapestry of its bigger-picture messaging is layered. The unique work easily explores love in all of its guises, curated together in a dynamic reminder of the power of the ordinary and extraordinary of everyday lives. It is full of heart and soul and truth as it tells stories about big and little loves passed, regrets of separation and reverence for the romance of a dirty Brisbane gutter.
Best friends, camera club members and a father offering safety and protection to a child crossing the street, all ease us into later bigger stories and dramaturge Sam Strong’s considered direction (with associate director Ngoc Phan) ensures these are each then given sufficient (but not equal) time to leave their respective mark, including through the many interjections of humour. Whereas, for example, we have Mathew Cooper giving a moving conviction to First Nations barrister Joshua Creamer’s tell of love for his survivor mother as part of discussion of the common thread of custom that stitches generations across a culture, there is also Kimie Tsukakoshi adding levity in an early TikTok type tell of an ‘insane’ ‘OMG’ youthful love story.
The sentiment of the show’s snapshot of varied contemporary Brisbane stories is enhanced through the characterisation of an ensemble of talented, versatile actors. Jeanette Cronin is a multi-talented standout, as she easily elevates our emotional investments from a vision-impaired grandmother telling of love for her grandson, to a brash Biloela mum taking about how the humblest of little things can speak a lifetime of words and, most memorably, as a still-devoted woman sharing the heartbreaking tale of her continued love after her hero husband’s tragic just-before-Christmas accident. Bryan Probets, too, gives us not only a diverse range of characters through altered physicality, but impressive accent work that sees him authentically assuming role as, amongst others, a Michigan man talking about the life anticipated from love at first sight smile, and then as an aging Croatian lothario lamenting the passing of time.
Light and shade are well-placed and well-paced, meaning that the audience is never left to wallow for too long. The heartbreakingly honest, tragic tell of a final hug and declaration of love, for example, follows the hilarity of the forced embraces of a Byron Bay men’s well-being group, easily taking us from raucous laughter to solemn silence within moments. Laughter and tears feature equally throughout the 100-minute (no interval) work and their curation together is quite wonderful, thanks to some lyrical dance numbers (choreographer and movement director Dr Nerida Matthaei), primarily from ensemble members Jacob Eatton and Hsin-Ju Ely, elevated in emotional impact thanks to Ben Hughes’ atmosphere lighting design. There are also vibrant musical numbers, including as part of a flash mob proposal of marriage, to add interest. And Stephen Francis’ composition and sound design charts the multiplicity of emotions being explored, poignantly underscoring the final emphasis of love’s existence as a common thread tying us all together, as we are reminded of the original storytellers from whose words and wisdoms the work first began.
An outstanding creative team (reunited following their work together on Queensland Theatre’s Boy Swallows Universe) ensures that the work is elevated beyond even the most of lofty of initial expectations, as the boundaries between theatre and city, and theatre and cinema, are dissolved in impressive technical aspects, unlike anything before seen. Renee Mulder’s set design allows Craig Wilkinson’s video design and cinematography to effectively weave video throughout the work with choreographic precision, in a way that captures and also elevates the human stories being shared through the creation of an intimacy at odds with the Playhouse Theatre’s size. At times, performers work in live feed to an up-close-and-personal centre-stage camera that reminds the audience of their investment in things. At others, moving on-stage cameras (camera operator Tnee Dyer) project real-time footage of the actors onto a screen at the back of the stage, which gives the work an additional, unexpected depth. The variety of approaches means that, despite their commonality, the stories being shared are never repetitive.
Trent Dalton’s Love Stories is a beautiful, bittersweet, spirit-lifting journey that serves as a warm, wise reminder that love is not just the stuff of great dreams. Just as everybody has a story, response to the show will be uniquely personal, with experience of its very raw, very real source material sure to resonate in some way, regardless of familiarity with its page-to-stage origin. And while the brown snake of a river, its 2011 floods mud army and NRL mentions pepper the script with reminder of its Brisbane origin, the universality of its central concern and sentiment, means that it is a work that could easily be staged beyond just its Brisbane Festival debut. This is an unashamedly joyous reminder of the verb rather than noun of love. And if the words of its ordinary, everyday contributors are not enough to capture your heart, then there is always Harry Tseng reminding us of some of Shakespeare’s words about a force so overpowering that it supersedes all other values, loyalties, and emotions.
