There are giant banners hanging in the Roslyn Packer Theatre foyer to get us into the spirit for Art, the 1994 Yasmina Reza play (translation by Christopher Hampton) that is in Sydney before a tour of Brisbane, Melbourne and Adelaide (co-produced by State Theatre Company South Australia). “It’s about friendship,” one banner proclaims. “It’s about a painting!” Then, of course, the old joke: “It’s about 90 minutes.”
This is our welcome into a production stacked with beloved Australian actors who also work across film and television: Richard Roxburgh (Rake, Elvis), Damon Herriman (Better Man, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood) and Toby Schmitz (Boy Swallows Universe, Black Sails). This collective star-wattage is likely to bring people to the theatre for the first or a rare time, and it’s always a smart idea to make your audience feel at ease. On opening night, each actor received thunderous entrance applause; people are here to see their celebrity favourites.
But this shrug over what a work means, this lightly dismissive, too-cool-for-it, jokes-above-all approach hangs over the entire production. Yes, it’s a comedy. Yes, it’s funny. But it’d be richer and funnier if we were willing to engage with any of the ideas raised in the play, instead of seeking the next punchline above all else. Do we really have to be this anti-intellectual (“it’s about 90 minutes”) about going to the theatre? Do we have to have such contempt for the artform built in from the moment you enter the venue? Can we welcome people to theatre without diminishing what they’re about to engage in?
It’s not entirely the fault of this production, which is directed by Lee Lewis with a crowd-pleasing eye, and which is indeed, sort of but not really, about a painting. Serge (Herriman) has spent €160,000 on a large white canvas that appears to be entirely white; apparently there are lines and dimensions if you really look. Marc (Roxburgh) is incensed by the purchase (Marc likes landscapes), and he feels like this is Serge taking another step towards artistic and social elitism, a different way of living. The fact that Serge is taken with this painting is something Marc takes personally; less an aesthetic disagreement than a total breakdown of their shared reality.
So Marc tries to bring their mutual friend Yvan (Schmitz) in on all the hate. Yvan, however – and Marc shares this with obvious disdain in one of the play’s frequent asides to the audience – is “tolerant” of Serge’s decision and not one to criticise a friend’s purchase. Of course, Marc has to try to change that.
It all culminates in an evening at Serge’s apartment that turns into a bloodletting. The discord between Marc and Serge, of course, is not really about the painting (men will literally fight over a controversial painting instead of going to therapy) but about long-simmering resentments and insecurities in their friendship that all eventually come out.
Sort of. Art feints at depth only to recoil from it, as if terrified that a moment of genuine feeling might bore us. We could linger on moments of revelation or connection but then we’d have to sit with them and consider them. And that’s not what we’re here to do! It’s about a painting! It’s about friendship! It’s about 90 minutes! Stop thinking any harder! Get in, laugh, and get out!
It’s not like it’s a tough watch. Roxburgh, Herriman and Schmitz are all friends, and it’s clear that they’re enjoying themselves, and each other, on stage. There’s a real sense of play here. Roxburgh has a fascinating and ridiculous puffed-up physicality, Herriman is absurdly composed and Schmitz is leaning into good-natured vacuity; the three men lob insults at each other with delighted ease. Schmitz has a scene-stealing monologue detailing the drama surrounding his upcoming wedding that gives a much-needed glimpse at a character’s inner life.
So it’s funny and delivered with a good sense of timing. What is there to complain about, right? Certainly, the opening night audience was in stitches; the standing ovation at curtain call was immediate and enthusiastic. But do we carry that charisma with us as we start filing out of our seats? All I felt was hollow. This isn’t the time for cynical productions about cynical men. You’d be forgiven for wanting more.
Art is on at Roslyn Packer Theatre until 8 March, then Brisbane’s QPAC 11-22 March, Melbourne’s Comedy Theatre 22 April - 3 May and Adelaide’s Her Majesty’s Theatre 20-24 May
