Dinner And A Show

A Piece of Theatre Review with some Good Wine.

Tag: Sarah Peirse

Top of his Game: Review of STC’s Endgame


Out of Samuel Beckett’s major plays, Endgame (1957) is possibly the most elusive. As with all Beckett’s works, whether theatre, novel, film or poem, the piece represents a deconstruction of his chosen media, and Endgame is particularly meta-fictive in this regard. But while Beckett is always interested in ruminations on the process and means of artistic representation, there are more curious things going on in Endgame than a mere breakdown of traditional plot or character structures.

Set in a small stone bunker, Endgame tells the story of the last living people on earth after an unspecified cataclysmic event. The tyrannical and chair-bound Hamm can neither see nor walk. He is tended to by his servant Clov, who limps around the stage and is physically unable to sit. All the while Hamm’s legless parents reside in two trash cans. Beckett was always fond of cripples, and here he offers a depiction of life’s gradual descent into degradation. In this setting, though, the portrayal is not merely confined to bodies, but life as a whole. Everything is in a state of decay.

In a world where there are no more bicycles, sugarplums or pain killers, the only thing anyone has left to cling to is other people.  Hamm is an invalid and so totally dependent on Clov. Clov serves his every whim, yet he does so unwillingly. ‘There’s one thing I’ll never understand. Why I always obey you.’  Throughout the play Clov constantly threatens to leave, yet he never does.  Here we have another example of Beckett’s pseudo-couples: two people bound together and unable to separate. We see them in Godot with Didi and Gogo, Happy Days with Winnie and Willie, and Not I with Mouth and Auditor. So why does Clov obey, why can he never leave? It’s because he is equally dependent on Hamm. Only through his interactions with another person, who can confirm his existence, is his life given any semblance of meaning. It’s the same reason why Hamm forces his father to listen to his story, when he could just as easily tell it to himself. Theatre of the Absurd is always concerned with questions of where meaning in our life comes from and Endgame represents Beckett’s attempt to get to its core.


This could well be one of Andrew Upton’s finest productions. Nick Schlieper’s confined set design, equipped with dripping and reflected water keeps to Beckett’s original intention without falling into the overly familiar. Together the two have created some striking imagery. Endgame is not a play for the lighthearted, though, and without a strong cast the piece would be unbearably tedious. But Hugo Weaving has successfully made this one of the ‘not to be missed’ productions of the year.

Weaving is simply masterful in the role of Hamm; he is cruel and selfish, bound to a chair, unable to stand. Hamm has lost the use of his eyes and for the actor, it is a hard slog. However, you wouldn’t know this with Mr Weaving at the helm. Aided by only voice and gesture, Weaving commands the stage from his immobile position, no small feat. In a word, his performance is faultless as he weaves through the dialogue with effortless musicality, each syllable ringing in our ears, bringing the lyricism of Beckett to life. This is Shakespeare for the existentialist, and Weaving is in fine if not perfect form.


Tom Budge plays Clov, servant to Hamm, who is unable to sit (so he tells us). Hunched over, Budge is a powdered clown, with agility and timing largely on point. Budge does not begin how he intends to finish and he finds his rhythm later than we would like, but once found, he fits well with Weaving’s pace.

Bruce Spence and Sarah Pierse have comparatively little to do in the script, as Hamm’s parents, Nagg and Nell, both of whom have no legs and live in dustbins side by side. Pierse is melancholic and sombre, her voice a morbid rhythm of time and hope running out. Spence shows Nagg to be a fading light, one that flickers every now and again at the thought of distant happy memories. Together they strike a chord, such as a church bell would at the end of a funeral.

If there was ever a moment to get acquainted with Beckett then it would be now, when a seasoned cast is able to do justice to this challenging piece. This isn’t easy viewing, Beckett demands a lot of his audience, but this is an occasion where the rewards are well worth the effort. Endgame is playing with the Sydney Theatre Company until the 9th of May.

For more information see:

Murder She Wrote: Review of STC’s Switzerland


Patricia Highsmith (1921-1995) was an American novelist of psychological thrillers, who is probably best remembered for her adapted novels Strangers on a Train and The Talented Mr Ripley. In Joanna Murray-Smith’s new play Switzerland, though, she becomes the central character of her own story.

Highsmith is a caustic, sharp-witted woman who has escaped to the Swiss Alps to enjoy her retirement away from the brash and shallow confines of New York, which she sees as populated by critics and sycophants. She instead prefers the company of animals, owning several cats and a colony of snails. These sexually ambiguous mollusks are a source of fascination for her. This all comes to an end when a young representative from her New York publishers, Edward, arrives at her home with the intention of getting her to sign on to write another novel. Highsmith is resistant to the idea, claiming that she’s done with Ripley. Edward doesn’t take no for an answer though, and his seemingly innocuous character becomes increasingly sinister, setting the stage for a battle of wits and wills. As the two duel it out the plot gradually comes to mirror that of her novels.

Murray-Smith’s writing crackles, and her wit is both cruel and by turns hilarious. At its core, this play becomes Highsmith’s process of coming to terms with her own death. Ruminations of mortality, legacy and murder, as well as the process of writing litter the text. Being a two-hander placed in a single setting, the play does tend to throw a lot of exposition at the audience with limited action. However, Murray-Smith’s characters are fascinating and well rendered, and her writing is tight enough to sustain this over the play’s 100 minute course.

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Both performances are first class. Sarah Pierse sparkles in the role of battered crime writer Patricia Highsmith. She is raw, abrasive, and thoroughly broken. Pierse rounds her characterisation with a perfectly eared whiskey accent, and pained gait. She is stiff, and this seeps into her personality. The cynicism is unrelenting, as is her deep-seated resentment for the river of white male publishers that she constantly fights against. She is the archetype of a revolutionary female writer, and yet with Pierse at the helm, we cannot look away.

Highsmith is confronted by young hopeful Edward played by Eamon Farren. Farren is now considered one of Sydney’s leading men, and with good reason. His transformations are textbook; showing versatility and dexterity in mapping the final reveal. Everything from demeanour and stance to the detail of speed of movement is carefully considered. Ultimately, Farren has a difficult task: he is expected to shift substantially over the course of the play, and he does so marvellously.

Together and separately, both actors have a dynamic presence on stage. It is a credit to director Sarah Goodes for weaving the two styles to create flawless chemistry.

Last year Murray-Smith brought us Fury. Switzerland is a complete departure in structure and theme. However, the same keenly observed characters and dazzling writing is still present. Her partnership with the Sydney Theatre Company has no doubt been a fruitful one to date, and one that will hopefully continue into the future.

If you want to learn about Patricia Highsmith and her infamous creation Ripely, Switzerland is playing with the Sydney Theatre Company until the 20th of December. For more information see: