Daniel Vigilante
Sandra 1
Michael ItaliaTheatre: The Devil in Me
Theatre Review
LaMama - Dec 2006
Any show that combines depression, medical criticism, and humour has quite a challenge its hands. Add in fluctuating time periods, which conveys Australian life from circa 1930’s – 1970’s, and you really do have a tricky scriptwriting task; let alone a directing and design nightmare. But it’s something Robyn and Mike Bishop (writer and director, respectively) have not only pulled off credibly, they’ve reason to give each other a congratulating pat on the back as this play works more than effectively.
It’s based on the true story of Robyn’s father, Vince, who suffered from anxiety and depression in the days when the term ‘depression’ was perhaps only know as an economic ball-and-chain. Tim Stitz is remarkable as Vince, bringing to life the torment of severe anxiety and the ill-dexterity of a country boy at a social dance in the 1950’s. His awkwardness is matched only by the horror of his nightmares, and astonishingly, we really do get a feel for what poor Vince must have gone through.
Multi-role aficionados, Shane McNamara and Hugh Sexton, do a commendable effort to tie in several characters revolving around Vince’s life, as well as the untellable Helen Hopkins as Vince’s often unbearable mother. Gemma Bishop is diligent and convincing as Vince’s patient and loving wife, Betty, and Lucia Smyrk is a standout as the over-excited child Robyn and later as the sinister psychiatrist.
Narrative commentaries are offered by a trio of medical caricatures, administering puns like a nurse at an old people’s home, and commenting on the ironies of psychiatric ‘advances’ or stupidities of faux medicinal breakthroughs. The writing is clever and the scenes intertwine in a challenging yet comprehensible way. Your attention is held in every scene, and, unlike a trip to your local GP, it’s a pleasure to sit through.
LaMama - Dec 2006
Any show that combines depression, medical criticism, and humour has quite a challenge its hands. Add in fluctuating time periods, which conveys Australian life from circa 1930’s – 1970’s, and you really do have a tricky scriptwriting task; let alone a directing and design nightmare. But it’s something Robyn and Mike Bishop (writer and director, respectively) have not only pulled off credibly, they’ve reason to give each other a congratulating pat on the back as this play works more than effectively.
It’s based on the true story of Robyn’s father, Vince, who suffered from anxiety and depression in the days when the term ‘depression’ was perhaps only know as an economic ball-and-chain. Tim Stitz is remarkable as Vince, bringing to life the torment of severe anxiety and the ill-dexterity of a country boy at a social dance in the 1950’s. His awkwardness is matched only by the horror of his nightmares, and astonishingly, we really do get a feel for what poor Vince must have gone through.
Narrative commentaries are offered by a trio of medical caricatures, administering puns like a nurse at an old people’s home, and commenting on the ironies of psychiatric ‘advances’ or stupidities of faux medicinal breakthroughs. The writing is clever and the scenes intertwine in a challenging yet comprehensible way. Your attention is held in every scene, and, unlike a trip to your local GP, it’s a pleasure to sit through.
