BWW Reviews: CLOSET LAND Takes Dark Look at Total State Control

By: Nov. 30, 2013
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Reviewed Thursday 28th November 2013

A new amateur theatre company on the Adelaide scene, Growling Grin Productions, are presenting Closet Land at the intimate Bakehouse Theatre, a stage play adapted from the film of the same name that starred Alan Rickman and Madeleine Stowe. Both the film script and the stage adaptation were written by Radha Bahardwaj. The funding for this production was the result of a Pozible campaign.

Where and when the action takes place is not stated, and the names of those involved are not spoken, beyond her prisoner number, AB234. We quickly discover the sort of regime in power, though. The woman has been dragged from her bed in the middle of the night and taken to an interrogation room, still wearing only her nightdress. She is blindfolded and handcuffed when we first see her, sitting at a small table, with an empty chair opposite her. Here, the man, who claims to be a Government employee, subjects her to a range of mental and physical torture in an attempt to break her and induce her to sign a confession admitting to acts of sedition.

She is the author of a book for children, titled Closet Land, about a girl whose mother locks her in a closet as punishment, where the clothes come to life and befriend her. Somebody in power has decided that there is more to the story than meets the eye and, in spite of her denial of any hidden messages against the Government, or inciting rebellion, a confession is required. She is even denied access to a legal representative. The book actually contains her reminiscences of childhood and, as she retreated into that land of the closet as a child, so she now closes herself off from the efforts of the man to break her, and continually denies his accusations.

Radha Bahardwaj's script is, by the very nature of it being a series of interviews, episodic, but each encounter finds a new approach to the interrogation process, from the early accusation and denial process, to humiliation, to sexual contact. It is like a series of huge waves, crashing into the cliffs. Over the last couple of decades, though, the tension has been diminished by the fact that we have heard and seen images of the violence inflicted upon prisoners, whether political or terrorist, as in Guantanomo Bay, or war prisoners in Iraq or Afghanistan.

With a first time director, Olivia Jane Parker, a visual artist who has decided to tread the boards, Melissa Rayner, as the woman, and an actor with quite a few roles in amateur theatre behind him, Benjamin Orchard, but miscast as the man, it points to an inexperienced group, and it shows.

This could be seen very quickly when I discovered that, after he entered and sat down, I was looking at the back of Orchard's head from where I was sitting, and continued to do so for most of the ninety minutes. This would have affected any of the audience sitting near the front on stage left. This is very basic stagecraft, and any director should know that they need to watch a full rehearsal from each of the four corners of the auditorium, to check sight lines, blocking, and the projection and diction of the actors.

I was left therefore, seeing only the facial expressions and reactions to the man's interrogation from Rayner. This did not give me much to engage with, as her performance was very much on one level throughout. I never felt anything like the level of menace that Orchard should have projected as the interrogator, either. I also considered that Orchard was rather too young for the role, claiming, as the man does, that he knew the woman when she was a small girl and she is now, according to the playwright, in her mid 20s. This would suggest a person in his 50s, or even his 60s.

There were moments when one could see potential, but this script really demands well-trained and experienced actors to bring out everything in the subtext, as well as make something of the extant aspects of the script.

On the plus side, the stark black and white set, by Greg Spence, Sharree Spence, and Mel Rayner, imaginatively lit by Stephen Dean, coupled with video from Daniel Vink and Andrew Shanks, and sound from Lucie Bauer, makes for a superb multimedia backdrop to the action.


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