Review: The Club at Theatre 44

I’m going to be honest; David Williamson is not my favourite playwright. I understand that he’s a national treasure, that there are enduring memories countrywide of cultural classics like ‘The Removalists’ and ‘Don’s Party’, but I’ve never found slice of life an overly engaging genre, particularly when the slices are so drenched in ocker. And call me crazy, but the misogyny and jokes about domestic violence, while a product of their time, are not things I’ve ever found all that funny.

So when Broken Hill’s Theatre 44 advised ticket sales for Williamson’s ‘The Club’, I scrunched my nose up a little. But at the end of the day, it’s live theatre, it’s not for profit, and from previous experience as a theatre goer, I know it’s not really about the show being put on. Which is just as well, because I thoroughly enjoyed myself at the matinee performance last Sunday.

‘The Club’ is a one set play centring on a kind of changing of the guard taking place in an aussie rules football club. There are six performers, all male, all leads and all very distinct in their personalities and what they bring to the overall mix.

The play opens with Gerry Cooper, played by Craig Brealey, standing alone in the room, having arrived early for a meeting. He is composed, controlled, and remains that way for most of the play, only coming apart at the seams when the other characters pull too hard at all of the strings he’s holding.

The next character we meet is Ted Parker, played by the production’s director, Armando Licul. Ted is the polar opposite of Gerry’s calm. Ted paces, drinks a great deal too much whiskey, uses way too many words. He’s fired up and out of his depth and things only get worse for him as the play goes on.

Laurie Holden, played by John MacLeod, arrives late and reminds me of a brooch I’ve seen that says ‘Sorry I’m late I didn’t want to come’. His posture, his attitude and his words all embody how useless he thinks this whole thing will be.

Storming in not long after is Danny Rowe, played by Richard Shoebridge. He’s bull headed, puffed up and demanding, and it takes some convincing from the rest of the characters to get him to leave again, albeit temporarily.

Jock Riley, played by Luke Cripps, starts loud and stays that way. He’s old school. He spends most of the play bemoaning the world’s loss of his greatness as either a player or a coach and telling everyone, whether they care or not, what’s wrong with the players of today.

Geoff Hayward, played by Hudson Curtis, is a decided contrast to all of the other characters. He swans in, floats about, is part petulant teenager, part all star sportsman and part gremlin. His is the character that goes through the most change in the play, the others mostly sticking to their tracks or suffering a foreshadowed decline as events progress.

The play itself is a design to put these varying personalities in the one room and point out to each what they personally stand to lose versus what they have to gain. What comes from this is less of a character study and more of a people watching experience. There’s no real growth, just a lot of reaction and fallout. Williamson is lauded and studied because his plays represent a certain era of Australia and because he is undeniably good at characters.

I can only vaguely recommend the play itself. There are definite moments of humour and surprise. The story has some twists even if you can tell pretty early on what kind of position each of the characters will be in by the end. There’s possibly some nostalgia to be had by those in the audience who were a part of this era. I can’t deny having been entertained by the material overall.

For me though, Williamson’s plays harken to a younger Australia, where we hadn’t learnt to respect or empathise properly yet and it makes me uncomfortable that there’s clearly still a great deal of growth to be had. When it comes to the distinct lack of care or remorse at the mention of abuse - when this is, at one point, meant to be seen as humorous, I guess all I can think is ‘too soon’.

Jock mentions having hit his wife. None of the other characters even bat an eye. It’s apparently meant to be a throwaway, funny line. It’s only in the play at all to really bring home what kind of man Jock is when he condemns Ted long and loud for having hit a stripper. And the character fault being pointed out is that he’s a hypocrite, not that he’s an abusive man. At no point are these instances of abuse condemned in their own right. Most of the upset Laurie displays at the interaction is based on the club choosing to not cover up the stripper incident like it apparently normally would. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not on the cancel bandwagon, there’s a place for art and literature that have these viewpoints because how can we discuss what the right thing is without mentioning the wrong? I just hope that everyone involved in plays like these, the cast, crew and audience, all appreciate them for what they are. Outdated.

What I can, heartily, recommend is live theatre. Particularly community theatre. A bunch of volunteers coming together, giving up great swaths of their personal time to provide entertainment and enrichment not just to themselves but to anyone who wants to come along to watch. From my stint in Steel Magnolias earlier in the year I can attest to the number of hours needed for rehearsal, costume curation, and the learning of lines involved in a work like ‘The Club’. Possibly triple that for Armando’s contribution considering he was also director - and if he’s held true to form - set designer, chief set builder, lighting and audio programmer and caterer (he’s a great one for providing lollies or biscuits during rehearsals).

I can also attest to the acting involved given I’ve met all of the actors a few times and none of them are much like their characters. It was particularly funny to see Craig Brealey portraying someone so disingenuous, or Hudson Curtis (pretend to) smoke weed and discuss incest. And before your eyebrows hit your hairline I did tell you there were a few surprising twists in the play. Most of them came from Hudson’s Geoff.

Another common occurrence in community theatre; the cast did their own costuming. And I think it’s important to note how well each outfit suited each personality. Smarmy, professional Gerry’s three-piece suit looked pristine and fitted perfectly. In contrast, Ted’s slightly mismatched cream slacks and suit jacket were a touch too big, a bit more modern. Very in keeping with a business man who would like to think himself more style, and perhaps also more substance, than he is.

Laurie and Danny both looked like footballers, one in a matching tracksuit and the other in sweats, Jock had exactly the sort of suit, tie and red sweater vest you’d expect of an ex-player, turned ex-coach, turned board room bully, and Geoff was dressed very much for the night down at the pub he’d been called away from to come to this meeting.

Special mention should go to Richard’s mutton chops and John’s moustache, both cultivated specially for the performance and very much of the period ‘The Club’ is set in. They were wonderfully dated and added to the feel of the characters.

When the play is over and the cast has taken their bows, there’s a tradition at Theatre 44 of everyone piling out onto the sidewalk to discuss, congratulate, or catch up. I can’t think of too many other places where you can go straight up to the actors and tell them how brilliantly they did, or laugh with them about backstage near misses, or be able to hear directly from other members of the audience exactly what they thought of it all.

Community theatre isn’t about the play being put on. It doesn’t matter if you don’t think you’ll really enjoy the material. It’s about joining in with and supporting those involved. It’s about marvelling at the talent and enthusiasm and remarkable professionalism coming from an unpaid enterprise. Hopefully it inspires.