It’s only symbolic following Remembrance Day and the mark of 100 years since the end of the World War 1 that Kings Cross Theatre presents 'The Serpent’s Teeth'.
Daniel Keene’s two-part play stands as a valediction to mourning. While The Great War was initially touted as the war to end all wars, it didn’t. And 'The Serpent’s Teeth''s comments on the lives impacted by military operations of the modern world less than a century later remain significant. War takes her toll; on humanity and human lives.
Independent theatre this may be; the production of 'The Serpent’s Teeth' is wonderfully proficient, coming from the third floor of one of Sydney’s most iconic and historical pubs amidst the smells and atmosphere of age-old woods, beer and times gone by. In fact, the surrounding environment enhances Daniel’s theatrical work.
Welcomed by the barbed wire fence of a war-torn setting, 'Citizens' is a string of scenes reflecting on lives set among battle and discord, initiated by a muted flow of people coming and going within the barbed wire barriers. The audience is presented with flashes of staggered moments: A daughter and her father on their way to a family member’s funeral. A boy helps a girl with her injured dog. The journey of an old man and his unspeaking grandson in a wheelbarrow with a small olive tree. Always, always, a malevolent force continually presses in, never seen but always present. For the audience, it’s the white elephant in the room. What comes forth is despite the disharmony, friction and restrictions of modern-day warfare, humanity struggles to claim normality and unity for survival. Banal flashes into general life these may be, but they are denuded fragments of raw moments all the same.
Play two, 'Soldiers', is introduced by the emotive strains of an a cappella chorus while the barbed wire fence is packed down. Soldiers reflects on the coming of grief as families wait from an air force hangar for the homecoming of their fallen sons, husbands, lovers, brothers, cousins, family and friends. The scenes are a reminder that the experience of death is globally universal, defying borders, language and ethnicity with dialogue recited in German, French and Vietnamese. The sorrow is palpable with the suffering altercation of a brother and his sisters, a pregnant wife tormented by love lost and a father in his anguish questioning whether the five bodies flying in stands to mean anything. As the plane lands with war continuing to rage on, their struggle only just begins.
Everything about these productions is excellent: the play won the NSW Premier’s Prize in 2009 after all. The casting is top class, each actor living in the moment to genuinely convey the raw emotion of their characters. Martin Kinnane’s superb lighting and visuals eerily capture the ambience of bereft moments and mise-en-scenes from dawn to nightfall, replete with the spotlight of a circling helicopter. Matched to Sound Designer Cat Colman’s varying tones to everyday life’s soundtrack from crow calls to the landing of a jet plane, the transportation from our world to 'The Serpent’s Teeth' is organic and elegant.
The stage, albeit simply dressed, is effective and stunning; making incredible use of the restricted space. Felix Cross’ music sets the mood masterfully with simple musical passages. It is merely that the words, so stark and probing into the discomfort of war to strip its characters and audience bare, are no longer stories. They are fragmented moments of naked despair, to extend beyond Kings Cross Theatre and into the perpetual moments of our daily lives. Is war worth it? Never. Are these broken moments of human resilience worth it? Yes. Because they remind us we aren’t crossing the barriers of death and are still wonderfully, richly alive; even in sadness.
