Hear them howl: The Wolves are back in Sydney!
2nd February - 3rd March 2019
Following a sell-out Australian premiere at the Old Fitz, Jessica Arthur’s acclaimed production of The Wolves bursts onto the intimate and funky stage of Belvoir St Theatre.
An audience thrown headfirst into the lives of American teenage girls, witnessing the trials and tribulations of their soccer season, seems like an unlikely 2017 Pulitzer Prize-winner, but Sarah deLappe’s debut play is not a tedious facsimile of sweaty locker-rooms. Sydney’s unique Belvoir St Theatre attracts an interesting matinee crowd; students, hipsters and mature theatre-goers milling around the box office. Leaving, we were reeling from this nuanced and hard-hitting piece of contemporary theatre.
Skillfully choreographed as an ensemble piece, and beautifully observant, Jessica Arthur’s production lives and breathes the teenage experience, without underestimating the power of young women - evoking activists like Greta Thunberg. This is a contemporary society finally realising the power of youth; the theatre that realises teenage voice and the power it can hold in our society, is art that transcends the postmodern into the metamodern. The cast is refreshingly racially diverse, instantly introducing the intersectional feminism evident throughout- this is clearly not about elite athletes but rather an authentic teenage experience.
Rather than conveying a traditional linear narrative on stage The Wolves is structured around the character development arcs of these girls. We get a fly-on-the-wall documentary-like focus, as we watch their lives, literally from the other side of the net.
The play plunges onto the pitch with energy, the set, designed by Maya Keys, is a simple floodlit Astroturf. A floor-to-ceiling net divides the front row and the stage separating the audience from the action, acting as both a metaphor for our limited insight into the lives of the Wolves, but also a practical barrier for when the game begins. This unconventional setting creates a heightened atmosphere, where the audience is united like a crowd at sporting events. The director skillfully extends this metaphor with a sideline on stage acting as a true barrier to where characters are banished.
Snappy dialogue is one of the production’s strongest elements, each cast member giving verisimilitude to her role. The dialogue, in American accents complete with contemporary vernacular, mirrors the physical game, deflecting, defending and shooting for goals. The focussed rhythms of the warmup are interspersed by a well-timed amalgamation of gossipy chatter and discussion of hard-hitting and “ethically complicated” contemporary issues, a conversation about tampons being held on one side of the stage while the Khmer Rouge is discussed on the other.
The casts’ comedic timing is accomplished, the dynamics of power skillfully shifting through their actions and juxtaposing body language. #46 (Nikita Waldron) embodying awkward, tomboyish movements, she feels ready for flight or fight. This physical presence contrasts sharply with the skittish movements of bouncy, ditzy #08 (Sofia Nolan) cartwheeling across the stage, whose bubbly personality only accentuates the tragic differences when darkness is revealed. The audience’s deep engagement and pathos for the nine characters is proof of the actors’ skill, laughter filling the theatre at the pithy comments and perfect timing. With so many actors on stage, the director skillfully manipulates the choreographed movement sequences to find moments of tension and focus.
Although DeLappe claims the characters are not “downloaded from my yearbook”, they initially appear negative, archetypal reproductions of the teenage girl. However, as they are introduced through the tightly synchronised warm-ups, initial judgements about the characters quickly dissipate - Arthur reminding us of societies’ hasty judgement of teens. Each has her own role within the team, except newcomer #46 (who lives in a yurt rather than a “yoghurt” as one confused teammate discovers). The audience is never introduced to the characters by name, just their numbers. Brenna Harding of Black Mirror fame, plays team captain, #25, who develops from a quiet pushover into an inspiring team captain. If I was nitpicking for things to criticise, at times Harding’s somewhat weak stage presence distracted from the rest of the ensemble, but she made up for it with her hard-stares that captured the audience's attention.
This production is not perfect in execution, but it damn-well hits the mark for audience engagement, authentically reflecting the raw galvanising moments of self-assuredness that mark the teenage experience.
One particularly memorable scene is the breakdown of goalie #00, tightly-wound with pre-game anxiety, played with precision by NIDA graduate Chika Ikogwe - the only member of the cast not in the original production. This dramatic scene was enhanced by Veronique Benett’s lighting, the effective use of blackout contrasted with the consistent use of bright LEDs, and the loud, jarring soundscape (Clemence Williams) shook the audience to the core - reflecting the mental state of #00. This climactic scene is the point where the tone of the play shifts from comedic to tragic, without losing the profound sense of realism.
Using an all-female creative team, Arthur has constructed a contemporary feminist manifesto for the arts. The Wolves is a tale of the power of the young female voice, the power of teamwork, the power of the pack. This is how theatre should be developing - will you be in the audience as it does?
Photograph by Brett Boardman
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