The God Of Hell
Director: Corey McMahon
Matthew Flinders Theatre
Flinders Uni
Thurs 14 Dec
Season closed



The Matthew Flinders Theatre has a large, traditional proscenium arch stage which director/designer Corey McMahon has elected to cut off, seating his small audience up on the stage around the small farmhouse kitchen set. This close proximity intensifies Sam Shepard's political message about government interference in our civil liberties.

The kitchen is the domain of farmer's wife Emma (Elleni Karagiannidis), who fills it with over-watered plants, forming a barrier keeping her inside and the world out. Her taciturn husband Frank (Scott Marcus) has allowed a mysterious, apparently physically abused former friend sanctuary in their basement. After being tortured, Haynes (Cameron Pike) is isolated through "static shock", which explodes with noise and strobing lights whenever he inadvertently touches anyone. This excessive reaction is horrifically shocking the first time it occurs. However, the device is overused, becoming something the audience expects to recur. When the sinister, dapper-suited breath-freshened Welch (Mark Fantasia) pushes Emma in her fluffy clouds dressing gown out into the cold, and redecorates her kitchen with tacky Stars and Stripes flags, the ludicrous and surreal moment is a direct act of aggression.

Each character employs verbal interrogation techniques at some point, rephrasing words, aggressively returning to unsatisfactory points, to force admissions of guilt from others. By the end of the play, notions of truth and fiction have broken down completely: Haynes's description of a nuclear accident "The ground caught fire for 30 days" is spun by Welsh as "minor leakage." Their exchange is enhanced by powerful blocking, with the domineering Welch standing over the gibbering, shuddering torture victim, unsettlingly forcing him to collude in what is euphemistically referred to as "his debriefing".

Karagiannidis' performance is excellent, yet much more realistic than the broader comedy of the other three performers. The actual torture, once shown rather than heard, is unfortunately overacted and even raises a laugh. The most disturbing and invasive moment is possibly Welch's violent destruction of Emma's treasured houseplants. The play's uneven tone and moments of sick comedy detract from Welch's frightening message: "We're in absolute command and we don't have to answer to a soul."

Rosie Clarke