THE DEEP RESONANCE OF HOLLOWNESS |
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) Photo: Matt Grace Adapted by Dean Parker from a book by Nick Hager Directed by Jonathon Hendry at BATS, Wellington From 26 Sep 2007 to 11 Oct 2007 Reviewed by John Smythe, 27 Sep 2007 |
To a large extent The Hollow Men wrote themselves, given Nicky Hager's 2006 exposé of the rise and fall of Don Brash as National Party leader - subtitled 'a study in the politics of deception' - is based on leaked emails and internal reports, as well as appointment diaries, meeting minutes and face-to-face interviews.
Of course it is Hager's clarity of purpose in organising of the material and adding his editorial commentary that make it a riveting read. But its great strength as a political history lies in the extraordinary credibility of the source material brought to light, Hager suggests, by principled insiders "willing to blow the whistle and expose the inner workings of their own party ... out of a deep wish for the politics of this country to be different."[1]
Now the sure hand of playwright Dean Parker - abetted by director Jonathon Hendry, six actors, four designers and a committed production crew - brings those four and a half fraught yet fascinating years to life on stage at BATS, in a form as compelling as any thriller, punctuated by well-judged comic relief.
In revealing the workings of the machine that propelled Brash into the leadership then master-minded the National Party campaign for the 2005 election, The Hollow Men distils human ambition and folly in ways that allow it to transcend its immediate context. Like any Shakespeare history - although I hasten to add it's funnier than most of them - this play has enduring value as an enquiry into the nature of politics itself.
Treated more as an object - a device - than as a person by his advisers, Stephen Papps' bemused Don Brash barely gets a word in edgewise initially, as they mould and manipulate him into becoming the mouthpiece for vote-winning messages spun in the political equivalent of a candyfloss machine. At best, he is a good listener and learner. At worst, he is a hollow man allowing himself to be used as a vessel to carry hidden agendas while winning favour with populist sound bites: "Simple, big, bold!"
But far from being a victim, when he does speak he owns the words (like any good actor). And there are times when his political innocence and principled integrity offer touching insights into his true nature. Inevitably, then - as with most villains and anti-heroes given their full dimensions on stage - there is pathos in his inevitable demise.
Papps marks every shift with a depth of truth that is a sound rejoinder to the shallowness of the exercises in which his character is so often obliged to engage. There's a hint of the classical clown in this distillation, not least in a relatively silent sequence involving a dust-buster and rubber gloves (although the inadvertently untucked shirt-tail should have been corrected by one of his staff on opening night), and an excruciating moment in Queenstown when US patriot Dick Allen (Will Harris) obliges Don to join him in the New Zealand national anthem - in both languages.
Will Harris also threads through the play as a sawn-off Richard Long, media adviser, while turning in superbly-pitched cameos as ex-Labour politician turned historian and columnist Michael Bassett (who secretly writes speeches for Brash them praises them in his Herald column), Phil Goff (in full debating chamber flight), ultimate spin-doctor Murray McCully ("It's a game!"), Exclusive Brethren emissary Ron Hickmott and a frustrated TV journalist.
As Peter Keenan, the Wellington economist who becomes Brash's chief strategist and speech writer (vacillating from "Tell the people what they want to hear" to "Nothing corrupts like lack of power"), Michael Keir Morrisey engages us most as he confronts his own thresholds of integrity, especially when it comes to claiming Mâori are privileged. Despite the odd moment of struggling for lines, it's a solid performance that counterbalances the relatively amoral enthusiasms of his younger colleagues.
Arthur Meek brings a bright-eyed passion to Brash's assistant Bryan Sinclair ("You don't want advice, you want a campaign!"), who has a clear sense of what should be hidden from the public gaze. As the PR-savvy assistant Matthew Hooton, Sam Snedden invests the sharp-tongued master of the sound-bite with a focussed energy that leaves us in no doubt that these boys mean business.
Taking every opportunity to offer comic relief without losing sight of the import of her scenes, Lyndee-Jane Rutherford plays nine cameo roles. Her multi-millionaire business-woman Diane Forman bookends the play with her smooth-voiced observations, a compassionate moment with Don just after he has lost the election giving the only hint of any other role she may play in his life. Former National Party President Sue Wood (Hooton's mother-in-law, incidentally) fusses about with a tailor's dummy as she gives sartorial advice, while TV journalist Susan Wood goes for the jugular in the interview that questions Brash's relationship with the would-be-clandestine Exclusive Brethren activists.
Her NZ Herald reporter Claire Harvey is an impact player in the game and the real one was there on opening night to write the Herald review. Two other high points are Rutherford's masked rendition of Ronald Regan's "Shining city upon a hill" radio talk and her black wigged, silk track-suited Ruth Richardson: "Being in government is worth everything!"
Brian King's metal framed set, Jennifer Lal's lighting (I could feel the warmth of that sunlight in Queenstown) and Andrew McMillain's sound design for bridging between scenes, all serve the forward-moving dynamic of the production, directed by Jonathon Hendry to keep a strong focus on the substantive content through an astute orchestration of pace.
It is a great credit to all involved that the considerable theatrical skills that bring this story to the stage in no way eclipse the play's powerful insight into politics. Having worked dramaturgical wonders with Hager's rigorous scholarship, and allowed us to empathise with Don on his departure from the front bench of parliament, Parker makes sure we are well aware than the machine behind John Key's elevation promises more of the same.
Accolades are due to Dean Parker for writing the script on spec, Nicky Hager for allowing the adaptation to proceed, Creative New Zealand for funding the production, Playmarket for getting it workshopped and BATS for programming it - all with a year. No other theatre in the country could be so responsive, although it is certainly hoped that they will now pick it up (this production tours to Centrepoint in Palmerston North in mid-October) to ensure all New Zealanders get the opportunity to see what fuels and drives the political machine.
Rodney Hide was in the front row on opening night. Let's hope he expresses loud outrage at public money being used to allow this play to come alive. It'll be great publicity and will add even deeper resonance to The Hollow Men.
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[1] Nicky Hager, The Hollow Men, Craig Potten Publishing, 2006, p280
See also reviews by:
Laurie Atkinson (The Dominion Post);
Kate Blackhurst (The Lumiere Reader);
Peter Hawes