Griffin Theatre Company’s season opener is a show that gets the emotional investment it demands, but the return for the audience is limited.
In the finance world, a ‘dead cat bounce’ refers to the short-lived recovery of a plummeting stock before it continues to decline; a final breath of life before nature takes its course. It is the emotions associated with this doomed resurgence that ‘Dead Cat Bounce’ is obsessed with; the hopeful (albeit misguided) belief that all is not lost, the pain and suffering experienced when all becomes lost, and the subsequent grieving afterwards for the legend of what once was.
At various points throughout the 95-minute show, these emotions come out. Tortured artist Gabe (Josh Quong Tart), still living in the 30-year-old shadow of his short-lived glory days, has just completed the latest manuscript for yet another rehash of his first and only bestseller. The newest girl in his life, data entrant Matilda (Kate Cheel), is simultaneously decades behind him in age and decades ahead of him in maturity, taking on the responsibilities of maid, therapist, and girlfriend to Gabe (in that order). On the opposite end of the spectrum is Angela (Lucia Mastrantone), Gabe’s ex-girlfriend-turned-publisher, and her partner Tony (Johnny Nasser), the show’s lone voice of reason and pure common sense. Beginning with the arduous process of getting Gabe’s manuscript accepted by Angela, the play soon deviates into an exploration of Gabe’s failures in life, an unplanned pregnancy, alcoholism, and Tony’s utter contempt for the pet cat he and Angela love to hate.
Much like a dead cat bounce is a tumultuous journey, so too is the performance. This idea of likeable unlikeness that plagues the dead cat in the show is reflected in Tart’s characterisation of Gabe; he is a flawed character that, even in light of the extent he goes to be a prick, the audience can’t help but be sorry for. This particularly works in his favour when he is inebriated and suffering, but does damage the more comedic lines he has, with many of playwright Mary Rachel Brown’s jokes falling flat.
Matilda and Angela, as foils for one another, start in similar positions but take very different paths as the show progresses; whereas Matilda begins the play as a rather monotone, stereotypically invasive millennial who eventually runs out of meaningful things to do other than announce her pregnancy an unnecessary amount of times, Angela’s initial snappy, stereotypical ex-girlfriend state makes way for a somewhat believable performance that, even for a script that forces her to jump between emotions at the click of a finger, is easy enough to get invested in.
Image © Brett Boardman
Of all the cast, she has the strongest control over her comedy, able to draw more laughs from the audience as and when her script demands it.
It’s a shame we don’t see more of Johnny Nasser beyond the play’s third scene; in a world full of creatives his spot-on characterisation of the by-the-book Tony gave him a welcome stage presence, though hastily thrown-in references to his debilitating physical state combined with an unnecessary, out-of-place final scene featuring him and Lucia Mastrantone eventually made his character a liability rather than an asset.
That being said, the work of the crew is worth commending. Director Mitchell Butel demonstrates a creativity with the unconventional entry and exit points of the SBW Stables Theatre that makes great use of the space and keeps the play moving as quickly as it can. Sound Designer Nate Edmondson has an unusually pumping soundtrack for a play like this, making transition points ironically welcome. The sparsity of Genevieve Blanchett’s set design, however, takes a bit of time to get used to, though meets the logistical needs of the play. Yet, most of the credit should go towards Alexander Berlage’s lighting design – in a lighting rig far more complicated than even some major theatres, his use of snaps, fades, and colour prove that even the littlest inclusions can have some of the most memorable impacts.
At the end of the performance, audiences will likely ask what exactly they are supposed to take from the show. Whether the show was actually supposed to provide the answer to that question is uncertain. To say that it was would mean that it failed to do so; to say that it wasn’t might be giving it too much credit. Therefore, if this show were a stock, it would be a risky one; and the return on the emotional investment may be too little to satisfy all its investors.
