Faith Healer
Melbourne Theatre Company
9 March 2017
The Sumner
to 8 April
mtc.com.au
 |
| Paul Blackwell. Faith Healer. Photo by Jeff Busby. |
Faith Healer, directed by Judy Davis, at Sydney’s Belvoir last
year was so successful that the MTC put it into the Sumner Theatre.
While twice as many can see it each night, most can’t experience the
intimacy that made it so successful and the production struggles to find
its strength in the large space.
Irish playwright Brian Friel’s play of four monologues only lasted
for 20 performances on Broadway (with James Mason) in 1979 but has since
gone on to scoff at those first reviews and opinions.
In the
1950s, Irish faith healer Francis “The Fantastic” Hardy (Colin Friels)
travelled through Wales, Scotland and Ireland with his wife, maybe
mistress, Grace (Alison Whyte), and manager-cum-dogsbody Teddy (Paul
Blackwell). As their monologues coincide in time, the audience can
imagine them together and find their own truths, which sit somewhere
between comforting and devastating.
Moving from places including
village halls, a desolate roadside, and a pub that’s more of a lounge
bar, they remember more about death than healing. And their memories are
shaped by the conscious and unconscious tweaks that create a story that
can settle in their own psyches, no matter how broken or blackened, and
help them make the only choices that feel right for them.
Friels
holds his emotion tightly with a heavy physicality that makes Francis
feel every movement as pain. Whyte leads with Grace’s heart and shares
the emotion that lets us into her thoughts. Blackwell’s Teddy connects
with the audience as he also sees the couple from an outsider’s
perspective and because he survives by finding the awkward humour that
offers much-needed space to breath and reflect.
But while they
talk to us, we don’t know who “we” are. We’re not Francis’s “fictions”
or “despairing people” wanting to be healed or to give up on hope. Are
they talking to judge, jury, friends, strangers or gods? Are we
listening to a confession or a yarn?
This is questioned more as
most of the audience have little direct connection the stage. Brian
Thomson’s design of an empty town hall engulfed by storm clouds (that
subtly change colour and mood with Verity Hampson’s lighting) is clearly
made for Belvoir. So much that ther’s a Belvoir-shaped thrust staged
and a couple dozen of the luckiest punters get to sit on the extra seats
around this stage. But while most of the audience were so close in
Belvoir, I felt too distanced in the closest third of the seating bank.
If
post-show chat is anything to go by, those close and centre had a much
more engaging evening, but it left me watching performances and
listening to words rather than being so lost in the memories of the
characters that their pain was felt.
This was on
AussieTheatre.comaussietheatre.com.