BY THEIR OWN HANDS - The Hayloft Project - Review by Joe Calleri.

Benedict Hardie (L) and Anne-Louise Sarks (R). Image Supplied.

What – By Their Own Hands, by The Hayloft Project, part of the MTC’s Neon Festival of Independent Theatre

Where and When – MTC Lawler Studio, 13-23 June, 2013

Reviewer - Joe Calleri.
Stars - 2 and a half.

A dark prophecy in which a son slays his father, then marries his mother becomes true, with cataclysmic consequences for an unsuspecting city. Not a spoiler for an episode of Revenge, but a synopsis of Sophocles’ Greek tragedy, Oedipus the King.

The Hayloft Project’s Benedict Hardie and Anne-Louise Sarks, present audiences with three distinct artistic interpretations of the Oedipus tragedy. By Their Own Hands is the result, and it will polarise audiences.

The longest, most enjoyable and illuminating of three acts, Act One has the audience join the casually attired, charming, engaging Hardie and Sarks on stage as the two recount the story of Oedipus. To further the storytelling, several audience members become key characters from the tragedy (Laius, Jocasta, Polybus, Merope, and Oedipus) if only in name and personal characteristics.

However, Hardie and Sarks missed a perfect opportunity to allow their audience to genuinely participate in the production by either reading lines or performing the story.

The playful engagement created by the first act is decimated by the next two, while Hardie and Sarks deconstruct the tragedy into two increasingly minimal, and darker parts.

A giant sheet of clear plastic Hardie unfurls to cover a bare stage provides an omen of the gratuitous ghoulishness that follows, some of which may offend theatre goers: buckets of fake blood, full female nudity, and a graphically staged suicide.      

In Act Three, Hardie and Sarks face the audience in the now dimly lit space, and envision Oedipus and his mother, Jocasta, during key moments of their doomed relationship. They drift from awkward banter about having children, to outright mawkishness as Oedipus sings a silly ditty to the unborn child in Jocasta’s womb.

This 80-minute production will certainly generate fiery debate over post-show cappuccinos about the risks and merits of deconstructing classic texts.