By Jennifer Beasley.
Brilliantly acted and directed, this three-hander comedy about male friendship, lies and identity is the perfect showcase for Roxburgh, Herriman and Schmitz. Prepare to be dazzled!
I’ve long wanted to see Art, written by Yasmina Reza in 1994 and translated from the French to English by Christopher Hamton, so I was ecstatic to see my favourite actors, Richard Roxburgh (Elvis) as highly strung and controlling Marc, Damon Herriman (The Nightingale) as recently divorced Serge, and the fabulous Toby Schmitz (Grief is the Thing with Feathers) as the amoebic Yvan.
The premise of this play is deceptively simple. Serge, a lost soul since his divorce, has bought a white-on-white painting for 160,000 Euro. Enter Marc, unhappy with the amount spent and the pretentiousness sprouted by Serge, which is the catalysis to unleashing hidden truths, thus causing a rift between them, and Marc tires to bring another friend in to side with him. The third member of this friendship trio is neurotic Yvan, the fence sitter. He isn’t exactly the arbitrator, rather, he is undecided on whom to side with, preferring his nebulous approach which, in keeping with his chaotic life, causes all sorts of comedic moments.
Running at 90 minutes at the Comedy Theatre, Art portrays itself as a comedy about male friendship, yet, like all great plays, has a hidden reef underneath it’s jovial seas.
The central theme of identity is stated by the painting itself, then echoed by Serge, dressed in creams and whites. He is lost – to himself, his friends and to the world. Desperate to grasp some form of authenticity, he imagines colours and textures onto the painting. Well, Marc isn’t having any of that!
A lot of the humour comes from the excellent comic timing and physical comedy of all three men. Marc is highly strung (his words, interestingly) who downs all the homeopathic medicines his beloved wife Paula gives him. His love for his wife is his grounding element, and the passion Roxburgh uncovers as he protects her name from Serge’s jealousy is dynamic and unfettered. This is Marc’s core, and no one can criticise his beloved. A very fine piece of acting. He is the controlling one in the group, and notes that ‘you should never leave friends unchaperoned…otherwise they’ll get away’. Wearing black, he is the counterpoint to Serge, perhaps a point of reason, however, his friendship to Serge gives Marc his own identity. Excellent use of space and stunning direction by Lee Lewis (Prima Facie) as Marc paces the stage, jumps up, tries to restrain anger, as the unmoved Serge floats around the space arms at times crossed and fabulous use of his constrained body, utilising pseudo-babble of the artistic merit of the painting, all the while skirting the emotional void that lies at the heart of all their lives.
Then there is the unstable mess that is Yvan. Labelled amoebic by Marc, Schmitz inhabits this character like a spun-out Axolotl. Dressed in greys and muted greens, another brilliant costume choice by Charles Davis that perfectly complements the slick monochromatic set, he lounges and oozes around the stage, legs slipping out under him and arms everywhere in a body unable to contain the emotions ready to birth out of him. He too has defining moments, with one of the best monologues I’ve ever heard as he laments the controlling fiancé, hated mother-in-law Collette and his crummy job, ending with his therapist’s comments that the men are what they are – because of what they are. Which reflects who they are. Yes, a bit to get your head around but a funny scene where visiting Yvan’s thoughts is best left for a brief visit.
The men parry and break apart as witty conversations, monologues and soliloquies dive into their internal thoughts as they scrabble to define their friendship – and themselves.
Muted music by Max Lambert accompanied by a restrained sound design by David Letch allows for the actors to strut their stuff in this very funny work. On point lighting by Paul Jackson allows the tonal shifts for scene changes and the minimal set alterations as panels slide out to depict each of the men’s homes.
Of course, one must suspend belief that Australian men talk like this. That alone made my companion and me scream with laughter after the show as we tried to imagine any man we knew acting and speaking in this way. But then that is part of this play’s charm. Sure, it’s set in Europe but with these three very Aussie actors – well, what’s not to love about it? And the real message is male identity, the importance of male friendship, and how not to disappear.
Just like a white painting on a white wall.
A standing ovation is all the encouragement you need to convince you to see this wonderful production. I loved every minute.
Art is playing at The Comedy Theatre until 17th May 2026.
Image: Brett Boardman
