By Darby Turnbull
What does it mean to have good intentions in a system that relies on undermining altruism in order to maintain the status quo? Proactive initiatives are insidiously inhibited through endless bureaucratic red tape designed to exhaust whilst self interest and monolithic productivity are encouraged to fester. Emilie Collyer’s Super explores the ethical and ideological constraints of power through three mostly ordinary women who just happen to have superpowers. The superhero narrative has come under increased scrutiny in the last fifteen years or so through the utter domination of Marvel movies with diminishing creative returns. Superheroes have gone from being individual renegades to key tools of the government, police and armed forces; in short they’re very much part of the ‘system’ and upholding all it represents.
The superpowers of our three heroines and the unseen powers of other individuals referenced are unambiguously coded as ‘feminine’ and a wry exploration of the undervalued labour, traditionally taken on by women that keeps society running. Nel (Laila Thaker) is an organiser who can maximise efficiency and productivity while Phoenix (Lucy Ansell) can absorb people’s anger and hostility making them calm in tense situations, but she internalises. Thus far Nel and Phoenix have been using their powers to serve the community in a grass roots capacity, small community acts that make a real impact. Nel doing the books for local sports groups and Phoenix diffusing tension from spectators so their violent impulses don’t escalate. Into their midst comes Rae, a local celebrity chef who’s recently learned she can weaponise empathy; whenever she cries, she can make other people cry. With her media and corporate connections she’s able to tempt Nel and Phoenix into drinking from the poisoned capitalist chalice of ‘maximising their potential’ by going public. Naturally power corrupts.
From a theatrical standpoint many would agree that the real superheroes on a production are the stage management and design team. Red Stitch is one of Naarm’s leading innovators in their use of space and Super really takes it up a notch. Romanie Harper’s Set evokes a sci fi inspired hub with multiple holes and trap doors for exists and entrances and props to ‘appear’. Stage Manager Ellen Perriment, assisted by Kara Floyd are kept at a frantic pace keeping the productions’ many practical effects timed for comedic impact. Emma Valente and her team have worked wonders pushing the boundaries of what the tiny theatre is capable of and the cast is more than game climbing, crawling, contorting themselves into whatever shape they need. It’s good old fashioned stage craft that sets a solid tone for the production; superhuman endeavour but with the right amount of smart silliness.
Though the creativity on the production side is working overtime to compensate for a script, that despite a few years of development doesn’t feel ready for an audience. Collyer’s basic premise holds so much dramatic potential but the text, as it stands, doesn’t have the structural or thematic foundations to let the strength of the concept flourish. The world that Collyer alludes to contains infinite possibilities, so it’s a shame the vision for it is so narrow. The tropes of the genre are all there; the escalation of good intentions into corruption fuelled by powers they underestimate, the satire of the exploitative hollowness of the media and corporate wellness appropriating self care and accountability techniques, but Collyer doesn’t offer much in way of world building and using her characters to explore the concepts in ways beyond the basics. As such, most of the scenes feel at least five minutes too long, and between them are several lengthy montages that move the plot forward and have some solid jokes but leave us hungry for more. From my perspective, I needed more innovative use of time to create a more nuanced understanding of the characters and a richer exploration into the ideas.
Lucy Ansell, Caroline Lee and Laila Thaker are always engaging, and the basic sketches of their characters allows them to exhibit what they historically have always excelled in. Caroline Lee as Rae expertly combines haughty grandeur combined with tentative emotional frailty, Lucy Ansell’s stoicism and sly powers of observation are excellently utilised as Phoenix, Laila Thaker’s vocal rhythms and frenetic energy are skillfully employed to emphasise Nel’s hyper competence to the point where Thaker positively radiates with energy. Ansell, in the most realised character beautifully conveys the toll that the internalisation of anger can have on the body. Lee is a master at imbuing her characters with an unnerving eccentricity that always provides unexpected ways for the audience to relate to her.
Despite this being a miss for me Red Stitch is once again to be commended for their willingness to program works that test the boundaries of what they can achieve in their theatre. My reservations about the text aside, Collyer’s experiment the genre is still fresher and more insightful than most of committee directed mass produced blurbs that cosplay as screenplays Super still has enough moments of cleverness, wit and cosiness to keep audiences engaged.
Image: Cameron Grant, Parenthesy
