Midway through Zinnie Harris’s 90-minute adaptation of Miss Julie, which is enjoying a revival in a touring production by Perth Theatre, the mill owner’s attendant John (Lorn Macdonald) confides to his boss’s titular daughter (Hiftu Quasem) with whom he has crossed the class divide to have an affair, “Do you want to know the truth Julie? I don’t feel much at all.”

A sentiment echoed by many in the audience, I suspect, on account of the fact that the clinical geometry of Jen McGinley’s expansive set – a large wooden table before a cast iron stove, on one side a clothes pulley, on the other a kitchen sink – not only extends to the performances which sap the play of eroticism and danger, but is in stark contrast to the passion and intimacy at the heart of the ménage à trois.

With the exception of Helen Mackay as the servile Christine, the youthful leads project more than they connect, tell more than they suggest. As a result, the depth of their love is skin-deep; the threat of gossip terminating their clandestine relationship is weakened; and the urgency with which they plan to elope is melodramatic.

But the blame cannot be placed on their young shoulders alone, for responsibility must be shared with director Shilpa T-Hyland, the inaugural winner of the Cross Trust Young Director Award, who fails to charge the theatrical space with eroticism and danger – both reduced to the muffled din of the midsummers night dance which permeates the canvas walls in the opening scene.

Similarly, the inter-scene songs by MJ McCarthy gild the lily. And, at times, Harris’s voice is louder than that of the characters.

Speaking about her choice of text, T-Hyland commented that the “contemporary issues of intersectional conversation” really resonated with her. Together with “the moments where we fail to reach each other.” Unfortunately, despite many fine but fleeting moments, she fails to reach the audience who applauded politely but, I suspect, left disappointed that the clouds of revolution described at the start as “just about ready to go” rumbled but failed to roar.

Peter Callaghan
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