By Georgina Luck
Finely crafted stories that welcome us into vivid worlds
It was a pleasure to attend this well-curated season of 10-minute plays from members of the Melbourne Writers Theatre.
Under the skilled direction of Karyn Lee Greig, each monologue feels urgent and necessary, as if the characters have no choice but to give voice to their stories.
In Jennifer Beasley’s ‘Run’, Emerson Hansford commands the stage as an elite athlete psyching herself up for a crucial race, shifting effortlessly between portraying the runner, her coach, and her family members with precision. Through crisp, taut dialogue – mirrored in the actor’s disciplined physicality – the coach urges her to dig deep and confront the forces that truly compel her to run. As the narrative moves fluidly between past and present, we gradually understand that her ambition is driven by something more profound, and darker, than mere competitive desire. The play builds thematically, in which small moments introduced early, resonate hauntingly later on. This is a tightly constructed work that accomplishes what many short plays struggle to do: it follows a complete and powerful dramatic arc, weaving recurring motifs with nuance and emotional force.
“We’re dealing with it…” Words that can trigger a shudder of recognition in anyone who has encountered the weasel-words corporations deploy to obscure wrongdoing. In ‘The Reckoning’ by James Hassett, actor Stephen Najera strides around the stage with the controlled fury of an avenging angel for whistleblowers who refuses to let corruption hide behind culture-speak. In the wake of an unnamed scandal that echoes real-world institutional failures such as Robodebt, the protagonist delivers a manifesto of accountability, positioning the audience in uneasy proximity to power: are we complicit executives, or the families left in the fallout? He asks a key question of those who try to deny culpability through silence or fear: What harm did you prevent? This is a piece that understands the weaponisation of language, and Stephen Najera relishes every word. Some moments hit me square between the eyes; at one point I nearly stood up to cheer! And yet a final, subtle shift unsettles everything that came before, leaving a lingering unease. A sharp, intriguing work.
My favourite part of ‘The Decision’ by Kat Adams is when the protagonist looks at her pros and cons list and gleans a definite glow on the ‘cons’ – until she realises that it’s probably just the kitchen light on the page. Haven’t we all been there? This piece makes us feel the weight, torture, and sheer exhaustion of a woman caught in the stalemate of a life‑altering choice. Beautifully performed by Natasha Broadstock, it balances pathos with gentle humour, such as when the protagonist admonishes the tarot cards for being vague. As with all the plays reviewed here, it includes some poetic imagery, e.g. when the character talks of how she feeds off her children’s energy “like it’s a blood transfusion”. To me, this play taps into the deep, primal need we often have to call on something beyond ourselves – e.g. astrology, religion, oracles – when we can’t see our way forward. Then demonstrates, with devastating brevity, what can happen when the call is answered.
Louisa’ by Christine Croyden offers a gentle, charming portrait of Louisa Lawson, brought to life with engaging warmth by Sarah Hamilton. The play captures both her resilience and her quiet artistry as she tills the soil, tends her garden, and weaves stories from the hardships of her life. Moments like the tale of killing a snake – passed on to young Henry, who “sees the story in her eyes” – beautifully illuminate the generational transfer of imagination, and the production is at its strongest in these subtle, lyrical images. While Louisa’s reflections on loss, labour, and poetry create a warm and intimate atmosphere, the play could trust its own emotional clarity a little more, particularly near the end. Still, it’s a tender tribute to a woman whose influence is often overshadowed, and it leaves the audience with an appreciation for the stories mothers plant in their children. I could see this play being expanded to a full-length production.
‘The Man Behind the Mask’ by Alison Knight is a deeply humane monologue – beautifully performed by Asher Griffith-Jones – that traces the journey of a tailor disfigured at the Somme in 1917, weaving together his love for his craft with the shattering loss of his identity. His reflections on the subtle artistry of tailoring – e.g. how a small adjustment can restore balance or confidence – become achingly poignant as he speaks about becoming a man “without a face,” someone who feels his personality no longer shines through to the world. The play’s most moving turn comes with the introduction of a hospital artist who, with delicate skill and empathy, sculpts a new face for him, mirroring the care he once poured into his own work. The moment he dons this fragile new identity, wondering whether anyone could truly love a man who looks like this, lands with heartbreaking sincerity. And when real photographs of soldiers who underwent these early reconstructive procedures appear at the end, the piece expands beyond theatre into a tribute – to craft, compassion, and the resilience of those who rebuilt others so they might be seen again.
The monologues are complemented by simple but effective sound and lighting design by John Jenkin, AV design by Martin Hunter, and intuitive stage management by Gemma Valastro – resulting in a stylish, seamless production.
Congratulations to Clare Mendes from the Melbourne Writers’ Theatre for producing such a strong season.
Five other monologues will be presented in Showcase Two from 29th March – 1st April.
Metropolis Monologues is playing at The Stables @ Meat Market at in a double-bill season with ‘Who I’m Doing This For’ until 1st April.
Image: Sarah Hamilton in Louisa
