By Darby Turnbull
One of the perks of reviewing is the opportunity to go see theatre that might otherwise have gone under your radar. Shows you might have only had a cursory glance at on a company’s website you might have missed without the extra professional incentive. Draw Two by Meg McDonald currently playing at Theatreworks Explosives Factory is an absolute gem. After a more than usually demoralising week of moral assault, this raw, tender and emotionally submersible play was a welcome and it turns out essential balm. If you’re feeling hopeless about AI generated art and culture and paying for streaming services with dubious ethical business practices, might I suggest taking those funds and re-distributing them to some local theatre?
Draw Two joins the ever-expanding canon of late millennial women’s monodramas exploring a grief induced quarter life crisis. The combined skills of McDonald, Director Lauren Bennett and star Georgia McGinness, each with their own instinctive grasp on the form make for a very special theatrical experience, one that deserves to be shared with as many audiences as possible locally and internationally.
Riley, a young graphic designer, has returned to her small, rural NSW town from Melbourne to care for her young nephew after the death of her identical twin, Mia. During a run in with an old acquaintance who mistakes her for Mia, she impulsively lets him believe that she is her late sister. In addition to navigating the complexity of her grief; guilt, confusion and unresolved conflict with her sister, she’s been thrown into the position of taking on legal guardianship of a small child when, like most of us, she’s still figuring out how to navigate her own existence. So it feels entirely natural that in an unguarded moment she’d take on her sister’s identity, especially since she’s inherited a key part of her life at the cost of her own privacy and life trajectory.
Georgia McGinness’ first moments as Riley are remarkable; she lets grief sit in her body like her organs have been rearranged and she’s still figuring out how to use it again. Before she’s even opened her mouth and when she does, we understand that Riley isn’t especially forthcoming with her feelings or even that big a talker, so we feel privileged to access to her inner life for the next 90 minutes. Meg McDonald is especially adept at dramatizing the effects of split-second choices and how overwhelmingly they determine your future. In addition to Riley, McGinness’ takes on a dozen other characters and with the subtlest of distinctions she provides a full, tantalising history and a unique connection to Riley. The other characters are especially good at running Riley down over her seeming lack of stability and it’s palpable how much it’s chipped away at her sense of self. Lauren Bennett’s production potently holds space and extends gentle grace to Riley’s frame of mind and the choices she makes in ways that she or the people in her life don’t. Bennett has ensured the narrative has the balance it needs to move whilst also letting it (and us) breathe.
McGinness’ insight into the supporting characters is astounding, especially her ability to imbue them with traits that go beyond Riley’s description of them. Her shy nephew, an over familiar old friend, her tightly wound mother, Mia (and also Riley playing Mia). Halfway through the play we meet Riley’s girlfriend, Elle, who has hitherto been unmentioned, for reasons that’ll be clear for people who see the play. But Elle’s characterisation whilst unique, amusingly, is played like a combination of Riley’s mother and Mia. It’s an extremely effective piece of dramaturgy that these people have a life of their own beyond Riley’s lens.
The team’s confidence in their creative alchemy is inestimable and inspires a huge amount of trust in the audience. On reflection I was awed at how adeptly certain aspects of the tropes used in the narrative defy cynicism due to how delicately the needle has been threaded.
Far from being a showcase for the skill and endurance of an individual performer, which given the breadth of McGinness’ skills it could easily become, the story is allowed to just sit. It’s the kind of restraint, discipline and humility that’s refreshing to see in practice.
After a successful season at Gadigal’s Old Fitz Late night program, Draw Two comes to another upstairs venue but with the benefit of a two-week season. Whilst this is the kind of text that would flourish in a simple black box with minimal to no set dressing but the short-term residency means we’re treated to the gorgeous designs of rising star Ishan Vivekanantham who rather playfully transforms this black box space into an actual box! Provoking the essence of a life in flux by immersing the space with packing paper (walls and floor included) making us feel like we’re all in one giant moving box. Though without the maturing minds feeling of claustrophobia and closer to a childlike sense of the playful possibilities of a box.
Naarm is very lucky to be the latest stop in Draw Two’s journey, one that I hope includes national and international festivals and media adaptations. With its warmly cathartic production and outstanding lead performance this is well worth a trip to St Kilda* before it closes on September 27th.
*The Explosives Factory is up a flight of stairs which is barrier to audience members with access needs.
Photo credit; Hannah Jennings
