Maude Davey, Emma Diaz and Danielle Cormack. Photo: Brett Boardman
It is the children, more often than not, who observe most closely the tragedy and pain of marriage breakups – and that is true whether the breakup is within a ‘conventional’ nuclear family or, as is the case of the family in Blessed Union (billed as the ‘lesbian divorce comedy you didn’t know you needed’), a same sex marriage complete with two children.
Primary school teacher Judith and union organiser Ruth have been together for 30 years, have established a life and a fine home together in Sydney’s inner west – and they are about to call it quits. But having fought so hard for the right to have same sex marriage, to weather conservative mores and criticism, they feel their obligations, their ‘failures’, perhaps more keenly than others. They are determined to ‘de-couple’ in a pleasant and rational manner.
And so the stage is set for explanation (to the children) and justification (to the world?) for these perceived ‘failures’ and a recognition of everyone’s needs going forward.
Danielle Cormack and Maude Davey head the cast of four as Ruth and Judith. Jasper Lee-Lindsay is 16-year-old Asher, who attends a Catholic High School, and Emma Diaz is Delilah, a uni student studying law, who is home for the Easter holidays. The occasion gives opportunity for some sharp asides about religion, likening the stations of the Cross to the stops on the Mardi Gras parade, for example.
While Maeve Marsden’s play isn’t strictly autobiographical, it draws on her experience of growing up ‘in a queer family, on the political back foot [where] you spend a lot of time not giving the other side cannon fodder; having space to be messy and flawed in public, and on stage, feels like freedom to me.’
It would appear that Delilah and Asher have no idea that their mothers’ relationship has fallen apart. Given the kids’ ages and intellect, it struck me as more than odd that Judith and Ruth would choose to break this news with the aid of a poster on an easel (that wouldn’t have been out of place on Play School) with three key words – Emotional, Spiritual and Financial – surrounded by gold stars.
Unsurprisingly, the ‘children’ are shocked and unimpressed.
Most of the action takes place around the home’s kitchen bench (a fine set design by Isabel Hudson). Shortly after the revelation, Asher and Delilah confer and then take bets – on which will win out between the mothers: drama or passive aggression?
And will Ruth relinquish control of the kitchen blender’s on/off button? The noisy appliance is a sure-fire way to silence Judith and everyone else.
Under Hannah Goodwin’s tight direction, there are certainly fine comedic moments in Blessed Union, some sharp dialogue and lots of laughs. At times though I wondered whether there was more parody hidden under dialogue that bordered on speechifying.
Despite their best intentions, Judith and Ruth’s split turns messy.
The second act gives full rein to Davey’s excellent comic timing. For reasons best known to herself, Judith has brought a lawn mower and a barbecue inside the house. We soon find out she is not to be trusted with naked flame. But underneath these farce-like scenes, it is Delilah (a consistently fine performance from Diaz) who is left to do the mothering of a Judith who has gone to pieces.
It is also in the second act that we learn – and it comes as a late surprise during a discussion on racism – that the children are bi-racial. This, of course, is not entirely unusual – plenty of Australian kids (biological, adopted and otherwise) are bi-racial – but it is information that could perhaps have been delivered earlier. ‘You raised us white,’ declares an accusatory Delilah. But the argument is left largely undeveloped.
There is a brilliantly funny scene in which Judith (with Delilah) dances her way through an entertaining history of England’s first female monarch in her own right – Bloody Mary, no less, aka Queen Mary I. But, memorable as it is, it seemed slotted in.
Nonetheless, among the messages in Blessed Union (and the play is full of them), it is, to quote Marsden again, ‘a celebration of lesbian families, but also a loving and playful critique. It’s taken me a long time to realise what a privilege it is to laugh at the worst of ourselves.’
And it is fabulous to see a play that has as it principal characters a lesbian couple whose lives are happy and messy, complicated and normal, and whose sexuality is not the key issue.
At Belvoir St until March 11
Tickets: Full price from $72, Seniors from $62, Concession from $52, 30-Down from $50, Student Saver from $37
https://belvoir.com.au/productions/blessed-union/ or (02) 9699 3444
