Review by Jesse Oey
Showing as part of this year’s Midsumma Festival, To Die Will Be An Awfully Big Adventure is the brainchild of The Midnight Horrors, a Naarm/Melbourne-based creative performing arts collective led by larger-than-life, charismatic Tobias Manderson-Galvin, who created the show with input from sibling Kerith Manderson-Galvin.
As I walked into the auditorium, taking in the intimate setting and feeling the room abuzz with anticipation, an usher handed me a pack of earplugs – and with a knowing nod, I knew I was in for an all-consuming, multi-layered assault on the senses.
Self-described as “the play that won’t grow up”, the show chaotically recounts the tale of Peter Pan, splicing fragments of JM Barrie’s original with many of its other forms throughout the years. Anchored on a surrealist, stream-of-consciousness storytelling approach, a group of excitable, often-unreliable characters weave in and out of each other’s clashing narrative, each representing disjointed resemblances of classic characters like Wendy Darling, Tinker Bell, Captain Hook, and Nana the dog.
The vibrant, dedicated cast, under Manderson-Galvin’s guidance, creates a visual spectacle through their intentional use of random props – a skateboard, water bottles, ropes hanging from the ceiling, shiny emergency blankets, even an inflatable crocodile – combining movement, sound, and lighting to transform the room into their dark, haunted image of Neverland.
The play’s strength lies in its cunning use of conversational, bizarre, seemingly pointless dialogue designed to confound the viewers whist simultaneously drawing them closer, only to inevitably shock them with unexpected plot twists or sudden shifts in energy.
The performers’ passion and frustration are often palpable, channeled through brash, heavy-metal-inspired musical numbers with strong lyrical references to social justice issues like family violence, police brutality, climate change, and the harsh realities of living in a capitalist society.
Audience engagement is used effectively to advance the play’s forceful narrative. Characters freely break the fourth wall to instruct the viewers to get up, dance, participate in chants, or leave their seats. Commentary about police presence at Pride events is accompanied by trays of fairy bread, while fragmented stories referencing the never-ending cycle of violence are told through mundane allegories (“bad time…”) and repetitive enigmas (“L… It starts with L!”).
Even though the evening was unfortunately plagued with production issues – the backing track wouldn’t sync in the beginning, many of the mics kept breaking, then midway through the performance a cast member suddenly became very ill and had to leave – The Midnight Horrors still delivered an earnest, dynamic performance. Every single performer played to their strengths and was given their individual moment to shine.
J.M Barrie said that in Neverland, there was a saying – that every time you breathe, a grown-up dies. Walking out of the theatre, I found myself awestruck by this profound statement.
Combine this with a scene from the beginning of Act 2, when the characters were out at sea, surrounded by mermaids that couldn’t be seen. A performer bemused, “no one can see the path, no one can see the war” – a poignant metaphor describing very real, very dangerous, very deadly situations happening in parts of the world right now.
Through this work, the Manderson-Galvins and co may have built a hypothetical Neverland, a memory of an island that doesn’t exist. Yet echoes of this woeful universe can be found around us too in everyday life – and perhaps it’s important for us to acknowledge the increasingly blurred line between the two sides.
A sincere effort from an inspired group of thespians!
Image Supplied