The lights go down and the lush, sleek synths of Madonna’s “Vogue” are suspended in the air. Slouched atop her umpire’s chair, megaphone in hand, a mysterious onlooker sets the scene: Love. Advantage. Deuce. The endurance sport of self-fulfilment—in all its chaotic glory—commences.
Above the pristine Melbourne-blue court, below the solar-system of dazzling disco balls, it’s convention vs non-conformity in Theatre Works’ rom-comedy of manners Australian Open. To the chagrin of his well-meaning yet meddling parents, Felix, turning 31, is intent to keep his relationship with his tennis-pro boyfriend Lucas open – even in the event of a hypothetical proposal. What follows is a high-stakes doubles match of competing desires in which each of our players must volley with monogamy, marriage, and the relentless back-and-forth of being human. And yes, ushering in the queer cornucopia that is the Midsumma festival, “it’s a gay thing is what it is.”
From measured, calculated rallies to raging, rapid-fire exchanges, Angus Cameron’s dialogue fires on all cylinders while Riley Spadaro’s tight, rhythmic direction ensures the momentum rises and falls with ease. The ensemble cast, decked out in their tennis whites, spar with a sureness that puts Federer to shame — even if Eddie Orton’s smarmy yet charming Lucas just lost to him in the grand slam.
Jane Montgomery Griffiths’ show-stealing matriarch Belinda, questioning the line between commitment and complacency, develops an inexplicable drive towards the death zone in a performance as towering as it is grounding. Her soft-yet-shrill husband Pete (Alec Gilbert) struggles to impose order on the aftermath, while her sharp-shooting daughter Annabelle (Melissa Kahraman), hungry for drama, watches with metaphorical popcorn at the ready.
Sebastian Li’s chronically exasperated Felix, the family’s designated ball boy, is like the graviton his particle physicist sister lectures about in the Swiss Alps (yes, really). The magical particle that holds everything together, he must co-ordinate the chaos of his elite athlete boyfriend’s shenanigans, his elite academic sister’s scheming, and his parents’ crumbling marriage. All the while negotiating the tension between queerness and expectation.
This tension, however, remains mostly at the level of conceit. For a show centring queerness and its intersection (or lack thereof) with tradition, Australian Open plays a rather conventional game, careful not to step out of bounds. But within those boundaries, the show bends over backwards (pun-intended) to strike the perfect balance between daddy talk, dick pics, and the emotional complexities of life’s relationships. It may not be a nail-biter, but this match is not one to miss.
FYI Interview with Jane Montgomery Griffiths in Theatre Matters
