Hideous Portraits by
Tom Wright, by Mene Mene Theatre
at La Mama until June
29, 1997
Reviewed by Kate
Herbert around June 10, 1997
The unexpurgated
observations of the deranged can shed a glaring and unflattering light on a
family's neurotic relationships. Such is the case with Burchett, (Ben Rogan) in
Tom Wright's Hideous Portraits.
Burchett, youngest and maddest brother of three, is ripped
untimely from his psychiatric institution and whisked away by his sentimental
oldest brother Moncrieff (Christopher Davis) to the family home and middle
brother, dilettante actor, Melba (Jerome Pride). The Australian diva references
may reflect the pretensions of this family to high art and "Anglo-Saxon
good taste."
The paranoiac Burchett is not alone in his madness.
Moncrieff rehearses playing a blind woman in front of the mirror and irons
Burchett's special underwear. The histrionic Melba is passionate about his
youngest brother.
It is evident immediately that the bosom of brotherly love
is not Burchett's ideal haven. he hates Moncrieff's dullness and Melba's
histrionics. They pander to him and perch nervously on chair-edge awaiting his
next peculiar outburst.
The play, which is based heavily on Austrian Thomas
Bernhard's 1980's play , Ritter, Dene, Voss, is swiftly written and directed by
Wright in a broad black clown style. Its stark green-black and white design
combined with its stop-frame action echoes its central image of photographic
portraiture.
The text is riddled with literary and philosophical
allusions, witticisms and grim observations about anything that niggles the
writer. It slings abuse at wealthy arts patrons, psychiatrists, anything
American, pretentious photographers but, most significantly, it attacks
"insipid boulevarde plays" and dilettante artists. Occasionally it is
too glib.
The three actors give vigorous and intense performances. As
Moncrieff, Christopher Davis prattles and mothers the young 'uns and Pride is
supremely arch and prissy as Melba. Rogan grabs with both fists the challenge
of Burchett, the "humanist-megalomaniac", and wrestles a nervy,
pungent and hilarious character infested with quirks and staccato tics, gasps
and double takes.
It is a superbly timed comic piece but it lets itself down
by playing too lightly the darkness. It skims too easily across the surface of
the dark psychological pond. It is so frenetic and mannered at times it
undercuts its own power.
The opening night friendly crowd may have skewed the laugh
response but there is a deeper resonance to this play.
KATE HERBERT
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