Kat Stewart and David Whiteley as Martha and George. Photo: Prudence Upton
What a wonderful production of Edward Albee’s searingly black comedy! George and Martha, middle-aged, married and famously unhappy, first burst onto the stage in 1962 and ultimately the play was a huge success – even though, according to the program notes, ‘it startled audiences and puzzled critics’. Since then, the names George and Martha have become shorthand for bitter and disenchanted couples, whose idea of sport is to torment each other. Here Kat Stewart is a razor-sharp Martha, slicing through Albee’s eviscerating prose, while David Whitely as George is just as deft with his parries, quieter maybe but oh-so-lethal. Together, the pair (married in real life) is electric. It is hard to imagine a better production of this classic.
In her director’s note, Sarah Goodes describes her starting points as ‘ritual, rage and middle age’ – and here they are, in spades. At the Roslyn Packer theatre, our first glimpse of George and Martha is heralded by Stewart’s cackling laughter before we see them looking down from one of the boxes. They reappear, brushing past the guests in the front row, before George helps Martha, clearly not sober, onto the stage and into their living room (a stylised ’60s era set, slightly faded but with a full bar as a focal point, courtesy of designer Harriet Oxley).
They are just back from a faculty party and, in between letting us how disappointing George is, we soon learn that Martha has invited a couple of newbies for a very late nightcap. It’s about 2am. Martha is in a blood-red shirt, high heels – everything about her is sharp and shiny and spoiling for a fight
Nick (Harvey Zielinski), a biology lecturer and his wife Honey (Emily Goddard) arrive. They have not been married long and soon they find themselves subjected to one of George and Martha’s favourite games, ‘Get the Guests’.
It ought to be excruciating to watch, nails down the blackboard stuff, but Albee’s lines are so brilliant and barbed and the performances so good that it becomes mesmerising. And there are some great comic lines in between the barbs. As the naïve and keen-to-fit-in Honey, Goddard proves both a bait to George and Martha as well as comic relief and, indeed, as the play progresses, fuelled by alcohol, she gives us a painfully funny dance number. Her husband, meanwhile, so smug and self-assured at the outset, is unwittingly reeled in by George’s off-hand questioning and reveals much more than he intended about himself and his ambitions. Each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way all right, but it’s a delight to observe.
Without giving too much away for those unfamiliar with the play, the second act revolves around another game, ‘Hump the Hostess’. Yes, threads of misogyny are woven deep into the fabric of this play; remember, it was the 1960s, yet Albee’s play is also a critique of his contemporary society. The two marriages on display, one new and one worn almost threadbare, still reflect patriarchal ‘norms’ and at times Martha and Honey both rebel, in their different ways, against male aggression and antipathy.
In the third act, things unravel differently. This is the ‘exorcism’. At one point, Honey, sodden with drink and holding a brandy bottle, introduces a new game: ‘Peel the Label’. Peeling the label, or getting down to the bone, because even ‘when you get down to bone, you haven’t got all the way, yet. There’s something inside the bone… the marrow.’ Gradually, George and Martha’s grandest ritual is revealed, their biggest pretence laid bare: the illusion of perfect parenthood. Stewart is quite remarkable in these final scenes, showing such vulnerability, fear and despair – and leaving the audience wondering, can the pair move on from this?
There are so many layers to this play and in this production we have fantastic theatre. The tension was, as they say, almost palpable. In the quiet moments, there was not a rustle from those watching, not a cough in the house. Such (rare, but exquisite) connection between players and audience always makes me think of the poet John Donne’s ‘double string’, a reference to a completely locked gaze.
Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, a Red Stitch Actors’ Theatre production presented by Sydney Theatre Company in association with GWB Entertainment and Andrew Henry Presents, runs until 14 December and if you can get a ticket, grab one.
Tickets: $35 (limited, concessions and under 30s) up to $143, plus $8.95 booking fee
sydneytheatre.com.au
