Tony Cogin, Sharon Millerchip, Alex King and Amber McMahon in A Broadcast Coup. Photo: Prudence Upton
An impressive cast, snappy dialogue and some instantly recognisable archetypes make for an entertaining ninety minutes. Much like forerunners such as the movie Bombshell, A Broadcast Coup takes as its subject matter misogyny in the workplace and, in particular, sexual harassment of young women whose careers depend on the mores of their bosses. Melanie Tate’s play, with its Australian setting, gives us a (fictional) composite talkback radio host, 60-year-old Mike (Tony Kogin), who considers himself both marvellous and irreplaceable.
First though we meet podcaster Jez (Amber McMahon), who has made a name for herself by exposing the sexual misconduct of a TV star and ending his career. On a shadowy set, on what will become the radio studio, and lit only by the laptop she is pounding, it is obvious Jez is working on a new case.
In the studio, producer Louise (Sharon Millerchip) is briefing her new assistant Noa (Alex King) on the morning show’s program, while they await Mike – who is returning from a workplace-imposed anger-management course. Noa is sassy, aware and not about to be overawed by a man who thinks throwing tables at employees is acceptable. Louise seems neutral, but once Mike – all braggadocio and bonhomie – bursts in, she welcomes him with open arms. They have worked together for years. They are a team. ‘I’m Shanti,’ declares Mike. ‘I am a changed man.’
Troy, the ‘HR/company’ man (nicely played by Ben Gerrard), appears and reminds Mike of his contractual obligations, but he is dismissed with celebrity contempt for mere bureaucrats. More disturbing, Noa’s initial distrust collapses under Mike’s charm.
Although we don’t want to see this, the interaction between the two characters – with a sceptical Louise observing all – is so well done by Cogin, King and Millerchip that makes it real, and all too believable.
Even when Jez – whom Noa idolises – does a segment on the show and calls out sexism in the workplace (and by implication Mike), it makes no difference to Noa. She asks Mike to mentor her. Maybe this is supposed to be a long-term career opportunity, but it doesn’t come across that way. Especially to Mike.
Meanwhile Jez is on his case.
Black humour is laced through this tale. Tait gives her characters plenty of funny lines and sharp asides, but the story is one of bullying and domination. And Millerchip’s character Louise is complicit; she is an enabler to Mike. Wittingly or unwittingly? It is easy to blur the lines when one’s own career is at stake. And Mike’s argument (which elicits groans) that women expect to be chased is tired and old, but he believes it. For better or worse.
‘In writing this play,’ says Tate., ‘I wanted to explore the grey areas of life after the 2017 #MeToo reckoning. Relationships and people who are messy. I hoped we might be able to figure out … where our responsibilities lie with our fellow human beings in the workplace.’
Light is being shone on some of those grey areas, but there are still too many dark corners and much obfuscation. One only has to listen to the news to hear (as in the case of the current Robodebt enquiry) how many of those in power (and is it sexist to say they are almost invariably men of a certain age?) cannot recall everything clearly, or deny and shift responsibility for their actions to others.
Under Janine Watson’s direction A Broadcast Coup moves swiftly for the most part. A little editing would have made it tighter, and I found one of the denouments a little too blunt, but these are minor criticisms. The set, sound and lighting are terrific, courtesy of Veronique Benett , Clare Hennessy and Matt Cox respectively. The studio clock on the wall, counting down to on air time, adds a sense of urgency to much of what is going on. The play certainly engages its audience, and asks – in the director’s words – us to ‘bear witness’.
Until 4 March 2023
Tickets from $43 to $80. https://www.ensemble.com.au/shows/broadcast-coup/
