Eric Bogosian’s SubUrbia, written for theatre and released on film in 1997, reeks of the 90s like so many pairs of baggy jeans, black lipsticks, and grunge taped off the radio. I missed the memo reminding me that Melbourne sucks at summer so the stunning alfresco theatre experience was somewhat marred (watching that woman in the blue summer dress in front of me shivering made me even colder – thanks, lady. No, really, I hope you didn’t get pneumonia).
Slamming together the essence of Clerks, Chasing Amy and Empire Records, SubUrbia playfully mocks the youthful wastoid cynicism that flourishes in the car park of a small-town 7/11. A gang of friends, burnouts each nursing their own modern-day baggage, spend most days tormenting the migrant convenience store owners and ranting about their first-world problems. ‘The corner’ where the 7/11 sits is the setting for the much-anticipated arrival of the high school success story, Pony, whose band is ‘selling units’ faster than these losers can down tinnies.
Buff (Tim Solly) is a gem, exploding with revolting energy (and usually spraying beer simultaneously) on every entrance. Without reservation, Buff epitomises the 90s burnout dude philosophy; it’s all about boobs, beers, blunts and blowjobs. Tim, the racist war veteran, harbours a frightening intensity that slow burns provocatively throughout the show, exploding explicitly a number of times as the friend who always just takes the (tactless, racist) joke too far. Pony’s publicist, Erica (Madeleine Dyer), pouts and struts with magnificent comic timing, creating a lightness and frivolity to a comedy that was often weighed down with darkness. Susie (Belinda Misevski), the wannabe performance artist, and her flakey boyfriend, Jeff (Matt Furlani), are the show’s epicentre of middle class melodrama.
Each character on ‘the corner’ spends an infuriating amount of time indulging their first world problems, except of course the frustrated migrant workers and Buff, who is too busy partying to overthink the details. Bee Bee (Tegan Crowley), the sweet, sad and often-silent alcoholic and surprise ex-con, was often drowned out in the open-air performance space and sightlines were restricted when action took place on the car park floor. Simple, striking lighting via the set design directed plenty of focus on the strength of the ensemble and the classic boom box provided an apt soundtrack to accompany the dark and grimy twists and turns of this excellent production. Don’t miss Exhibit A’s next venture. Just check the forecast first.
