Review by Greg Gorton
Olive Weeks has a keen eye for finding beauty in the mundane. Their poetry is a musical exploration of universal feelings, captured in the world of the contemporary young Australian. In House with a Sunken Garden, Weeks seamlessly blends her poetry with a monologue which tells the story of heartbreak and recovery. While some might find the production a little too sickly in its sweetness, for others this will be a welcome reprieve from the dark tragedies of our world.
Olive Weeks is a master wordsmith. While it is easy for a poet to produce a response with poems about orchids, it is far more difficult to keep us engaged with protein powder. The poetry on display offers a wide variety of structures and rhythms that refuse us the chance at boredom, but also avoids any feel of discordance. House with a Sunken Garden also benefits from the performer/writer role of Weeks, as every intended pause and emphasis is present. That the poet has a clear, melodic voice only enhances the work.
Of course, this production is more than a person just sitting on a chair in the middle of the stage. It is a performance, a conversation, an intimate connection between actor and audience that would make Grotowski proud. You could easily forget that there are other people in the room with you (or would if the opening night was not full of Weeks’ most passionate fans). One really must congratulate the dramaturg, Bridie Noonan, for helping Weeks’ piece find its visual place, especially in the confines of the small “cellar” stage.
So subtle that one might not even know it was there, is Shay Niranjan’s soundscape, which floats underneath the production, only occasionally rising to complement the more lyrical moments (and one song). Hiding the sometimes problematic sounds the venue cannot avoid, while being a form of audio-pedestal on which Weeks’ work might stand.
It was only after the show that I realised why someone might not enjoy House with a Sunken Garden as much as I did. It is, at its core, a production filled with naivety and privilege. For some dealing personally with the wealth inequality of this nation, affected by the events in Gaza, Ukraine, or Sudan, or dealing with the darker elements of failed relationships, there might be something offensive about how much Weeks asks us to care about a (relatively) wealthy young Melbournite who had an arguably ordinary break-up.
For me, these complaints are benefits. If you will allow the comparison, it is why many of us are drawn to Disney movies, or Taylor Swift's break-up pop songs - it is all a beautiful escapism that we can still relate to as people who have, at least once, had our hearts broken, and learned to heal.
One of the more beautiful works you will find at Melbourne Fringe, House with a Sunken Garden is a quiet piece of escapism which will be welcomed by many.
Image Supplied
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