Josh McConville and John Howard. Photo: Brett Boardman
You can’t live in Australia and not know the name Packer, although younger audiences might need to do a bit of research to keep up with some of the references in this tightly scripted and fast-moving play. Frank, who became Sir Frank, set up the family media empire and launched Australian Women’s Weekly; son Kerry became a press baron and gave us Cleo magazine, 20Twenty Cricket and lots of sport and dubious tele on the Nine Network; and his son James tried his hand at telcos, before deciding the cash was in casinos, which he keeps on building.
Packer & Sons starts with a bang and ends with a whimper. Which is not in itself a criticism.
The first scenes are cinematic in drama and intensity, recording Kerry Packer’s fall from a polo pony in 1990, which rendered him technically dead for six minutes before a defibrillator shocked him back into life. Son Jamie (Josh McConville) is all distress and action as he summons help for his dad (John Howard). This is not about a tycoon and his heir, it’s about a son terrified his father will die. The differences between them and most of us is that we can’t summon a heart surgeon at will, call in a helicopter, get the staff to commandeer phones.
After the helicopter has scooped up its prey, all that is left on the stage are a minuscule pony and a little boy (played on alternate nights by Nate Summut and Byron Wolffe). It’s an arresting start, and all credit to the set, sound and lighting team (Romanie Harper; Alan John, David Bergman and Steve Francis; and Nick Schlieper).
Then we are into the tawdry and wealthy history of the Packer dynasty. It is not an edifying tale, centring as it does on money, power and self-interest. So much money, and so much self-interest, and most of it will come as no surprise to the audiences who will see Packer & Sons. It is almost exclusively about the toxic relationships between these powerful fathers and sons and it doesn’t step outside the family, except for introducing Rupert and Lachlan Murdoch, and James Packer’s partner in the ill-fated One.Tel venture, Jodee Rich. To quote Murphy: “It would be impossible to stage Packer & Sons, a play about three generations of Packer power, without the Murdochs. The two competing families have brawled, collaborated and defined themselves against each other. The Murdochs are the Greeks to the Packers’ Roman gods.”
Packer & Sons is its own Greek tragedy. Frank Packer bullies and belittles his sons Clyde and Kerry (respectively and not affectionately known as Fatty and Dumb-Dumb); Kerry in turn bullies and belittles James.
Howard is entirely believable as a blinkered, bullish and belligerent Sir Frank and an equally unlovable older Kerry. He is loud and overbearing in both roles. This is compelling, but only up to a point – as in rich, patriarchal and misogynistic white men in suits have been behaving badly for centuries, and still are.
Nevertheless, the cast plays them brilliantly under Eamon Flack’s direction. As well as James Packer, McConville also takes the role of young Kerry, introduced to us as a drunken renegade who is continually bailed out by big brother Clyde (Brandon McClelland). McConville works the roles from start to finish and his on-stage transformation from James to middle-aged Kerry is a delight to watch.
Sir Frank had Clyde in his sights as his heir, vetoing his son’s wish to go to Cambridge University, but after some years in business together theirs was a very public falling out. McClelland’s Clyde is a quieter force in Packer & Sons, providing a foil to the bluster. So, too, the Murdochs are calmer presences. John Gaden gives us Rupert as elder statesman, an undeniably slick and powerful one. As Lachlan remarks of his father: “He never raises his voice. He doesn’t have to.” Nick Bartlett plays Lachlan, quietly exuding a rich boy Ivy League veneer, even as he and James are about to lose millions (and cause thousands of other less fortunate people to lose millions) because of their failed One.Tel venture.
An earlier scene in which Jodee Rich (Anthony Harkin) and James are pitching One.Tel and the internet to Kerry Packer provide some of the most comic moments in the play and anyone who remembers those early dial-up noises, and the failures to connect, will laugh in recogntion.
Harkin’s Rich, all buzzwords and over-confidence, seems to be the only friend James had. But of course, he had to go when Dad said so. Frank and Kerry seem never to have had a moment’s doubt that theirs was the only way to behave. James is given a slight wider emotional range in that we see his torn loyalties, his insecurities, his good intentions here and there. Of course, his life is a still a work in progress.
As for women and wives, they barely get a mention, except for lines such as “good sorts in short skirts”.
Packer & Sons is interesting, as a history documentary can interesting, or as a voyeuristic peek into another world can be interesting. It shows us powerful people, who are brutal and do whatever it takes to make money. It doesn’t tell as anything we didn’t already know. Yes, the Packers are as rich as Croesus, and perhaps they are (or were, or could be) happy, but as someone even more famous has pointed out, “money don’t buy you love”.
Until 22 December. Tickets from $30 (Student Saver) to $97, plus booking fees.
