Skin Tight at the Bruce Mason Centre

By PAUL SIMEI-BARTON

Skin Tight burst on to the Wellington theatre scene in 1994 as a perfectly formed gem of physical theatre. It toured successfully and went on to win international acclaim at the Edinburgh Fringe.

This revival perhaps unwisely attempts to burden the play with the status of a Kiwi classic.

Part of the problem lies with the play's brevity.

The 50-minute running time left me wanting more, which is probably not a bad thing in a festival context, but seems disappointing when the play is presented in a large venue such as the Bruce Mason Centre.

This is not to say there is any shortage of dramatic material.

The play's rapid pace and skin-tight structure have the protagonists dealing with war, time, separation, adulterous betrayal, estrangement of children, poverty and death.

The trouble is that all of these conflicts are resolved by an appeal to sensuality.

Whatever life throws at them, Tom and Elizabeth rise above their problems through the sensuous inter-twining of their beautiful bodies.

The strength of the play lies in its often brilliant exposition of the devices of physical theatre, although on occasions the text seems to work against the gripping physicality.

Theorists of physical theatre have suggested a certain poverty of text is required to achieve a richness of the staging, and the most successful sequences in this production come when Tom and Elizabeth taunt each other with conversational fragments delivered in a simple vernacular.

But Gary Henderson's script often aspires to the richness of lyricism, and when the characters reminisce with streams of poetic metaphors the language seems to undermine the staging.

Jed Brophy and Danielle Cormack throw themselves in to the performance with a physical abandon that is utterly engrossing and at times quite breathtaking.

Their superbly choreographed fights have all the verve of a professional wrestling match, and in more tender moments they produce images that are resonant and deeply moving.

The sight of Cormack being led around the stage with a knife in her mouth was a particularly haunting image.

She is an inspired choice for the role of Elizabeth, and effortlessly projects an earthy sensuality along with an explosive stage presence that perfectly complements the easygoing confidence of Brophy's Tom.