Silo Theatre
Review: Susan Budd
A black comedy of the festive season, In the Present is as dire a warning of the evils of alcohol as its running mate, Waiting for Lotto, is of gambling. Tequila with beer chasers is the favourite tipple of Rupert and Avery. It is hardly surprising that mayhem ensues.
A big, beer-bellied bloke, Avery is a loud-mouthed, aggressive slob whose body is rebelling from the abuse he heaps upon it, as he graphically demonstrates with gross noises off.
Rupert is more the tea and bikkies type. An aspiring writer whose tapping at the typewriter keys drives his flatmate even crazier than usual, he opens the play taped to a chair and gagged with his tie. All too soon, the gag is off and he prissily lectures Avery for most of the rest of the play, or at least when Avery is not making foul-mouthed threats or shamefacedly mumbling "I love you too," when his mother calls.
It is never a load of laughs watching drunks when stone-cold sober, so the entrance of Chic Littlewood in Santa costume is a relief. The problem is that he becomes so inebriated that he is eventually as tedious company as the other two.
Grae Burton's play is well structured, apart from an odd mock ending. There are some amusing one-liners, but it takes too long to reach the pay-off at its conclusion as the script circles in repetitive dialogue. And the pace of his production is initially so slow that at times it feels as though it will judder to a stop. The characters are strongly drawn, but they are so unsympathetic that it is impossible to care what happens to them.
Peter Grahame is appallingly convincing as Avery, either when looming over his flatmate or quietly slicing into the stuffing of his chair. Jarrod Martin has a fine, edgy quality and Littlewood's jovial presence provides much-needed light relief.
<i>Performance:</i> In the Present
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