In an effort to sort out a viable way of living with integrity, Cristina (a stunning performance by Sylvia Keays) withdraws into a metaphorical cupboard, secluding as well as protecting herself from family, friends and society. As Cristina says, her withdrawal is not a retreat from reality but an examination of what is represented as reality and an assessment of how it may be managed without the sacrifice of aspiration.
Her cupboard is limitless, capable of hosting a panorama of characters and scenarios, as Cristina interrogates her father, Robert, mother, Gwen and sister, Anna, girlfriends and an old boyfriend. At times these significant others appear to interact with each other and with Cristina as they would in reality, at others they are clearly the constructs of Cristina’s introspection and sometimes, and appropriately, the boundaries are blurred. As each tries to restore Cristina to the place she has inhabited previously in their individual lives or social constellation, Cristina questions the value they attribute to her part in their shared experiences. To what degree can experiences be shared?
Societal modeling fills in the gaps by providing its members with ready-made scripts. For instance, the media manufactured importance of “the first kiss”, used as a means of emotionally triggering Cristina into compliance by Gabriel (Steven Wilkinson) her needy former boyfriend of five years, was never shared by her. “It wasn’t nice,” the 11-year-old Cristina had told her over-reactive, over-bearing father (Peter McCallum). Anna (Alice Keohavong), “her little sister”, also plays the needy card skillfully in an attempt to guilt trip Cristina into submission. Appealed to by her parents to persuade Cristina into returning to the world, the “childhood friends”, sharp-eyed, limber Belinda (Sinead Curry) and Erica (Sonya Kerr), the brilliant Facebook twins, vie for the position of Cristina’s “bestie” and vie to be the first to reject her. Gwen (Helen Tonkin), a horribly accurate “chattering-classes” wife, tries to tempt Cristina into compliance by the “I had it out with your father” scenario while Robert adopts the pose of the male trapped by wife and family valiantly dealing with disappointment. The characters all talk: have speeches of confession or contrition or elation, and Cristina’s anarchic rejection of the script prepared for her threatens their safety.
Can Cristina resolve her desire for the joy once experienced on a stormy beach and movingly recounted by a then six-year-old Anna, and her disabling fear of such freedom? However, the ambiguity of Cristina’s stance lies at the heart of the play and literally at the centre of the stage. The cupboard, used by Cristina and Anna as a hiding place, references also the delicious thrill of waiting to be found, the certainty of being found. Does Cristina really want to be “found”, rescued by family and friends from her renunciation of society? Or does she retreat, as the melancholic Lucinda (Kelly Robinson) seems to think inevitable, into “foundness”?
Or should we consider whether being “found” was another imagined scenario?
Once again a subtlenuance feature (producer, Daniela Giorgi) has intrigued and entertained. The work is authoritatively directed (Paul Gilchrist) and effectively staged (Ashley Walker, sound and Tom Massey, stage management), with insightful and evocative writing; economically but imaginatively presented with a well-chosen and very convincing cast. Despite the play‘s poignant exploration of the conflict between individual aspiration and social demands and expectations, it is often side-splittingly funny. Gilchrist is a trenchant but warm-hearted critic of social foibles.
