This is a beautifully realised production of a fascinating, and odd, play.
Written by Melissa Reeves and directed by Margaret Thanos, it tells the story of a backyard exorcism.
Though based on a true story, it’s a mix of satire and black comedy.
Reeves’ script invites theatricality, and Thanos gleefully accepts that invitation, giving us a show that is gloriously wild.
Performances are excellent. Matilda Ridgway as Else, the victim of the exorcism, is an ever-intriguing mix of impish mischief, startled bewilderment and sheer panic. Julian Garner is terrific as Pierce, her husband, an uncomfortable, naive dag who reveals a terrifying coldness. And it’s a delicious insight of both script and performance that this callousness is shown to spring directly from Pierce’s less threatening qualities. Anna, a member of their church, is keen to assist at the exorcism, and Alex Malone plays her with a delightful whiff of superiority and hypocrisy. (The truly religious are probably much shallower – or much deeper – than the rest of us.) Shan-Ree Tan is hilarious as the exorcist: part-cowboy, part-clown and all glib hubris.
I began by suggesting the play was odd, and there are several reasons for my assessment.
Firstly, in so far as it is satire, the target seems oddly specific. But perhaps exorcism is a more common problem in Australia than I’m aware. Or, if the play is meant as a criticism of Christianity in general, I suspect many members of that faith might question its validity, feeling it’s the equivalent of a satire aimed at Islam that focusses solely on suicide bombers.
The second element of oddness is the structure of the play. It begins with the end. Considering the nature of that end, for the rest of the performance it was difficult for me to laugh at the characters’ gullibility and hubris because I knew, only too clearly, to what horror they ultimately led.
The spoiler rule makes the third element of oddness challenging to discuss; so I’ll be appropriately vague. We’re shown scenes of wonderful theatricality, but they seem to imply that the wacky demonology of these Christians is not as preposterous as the satire might have us believe.
But that’s why the play is fascinating, as well as odd. I’ve called it a black comedy and a satire, but I’m probably being far too reductive. Reeves’ keen, clever, crazy script deserves an assessment more concordant with its explosive, transgressive nature. As a representation of a community dealing with evil, or what they assume is evil, the piece invites reflection, both serious and stimulating.
Possession by demons is a rather minor narrative in modern Christianity. The major narrative is that our faults can be forgiven if we are repentant. But what the minor and major narratives have in common is that the individual and the evil are differentiated. In the minor narrative, it’s the demon that’s evil; in the major narrative, it’s the sin. In both, the individual is presented as redeemable.
Ironically, it’s our secular philosophies that increasingly conflate the individual with evil. (Ironic, because it’s those philosophies that most enjoy satirical jibes at Christianity). Admittedly, current events in America do make very tempting the conflation of the individual and evil. But it only takes a modicum of ethical maturity to question such too-easy-simplicity. Political maturity also suggests that such a simplistic vision is problematic, as it precludes the possibility of positive change. Telling people they’re evil is not a particularly effective rallying cry. In fact, in the political sphere, as long as we view those we disagree with as simply evil, there seems only one way to deal with them – one uncannily like what happens in this play.
Paul Gilchrist
Furious Mattress by Melissa Reeves
presented by Legit Theatre Co.
at Downstairs Belvoir, as part of 25A
until 29 March
Image by Robert Catto
Theatre Red 
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