In an apposite staging move, Werewolf is situated in a new performance space, The Show Room – a 150-unallocated seat studio in the bowels of Arts Centre Melbourne. Fittingly, Van Badham’s latest venture strives to unearth subterranean forces at play when the far right collide with the far left.
The concept is an interesting, perennially relevant topic, particularly with the rise of Neo-Nazis stamping their presence globally, but while the idea of allowing warring sides to meet promises theatrical ignition, the execution of this self-described ‘political thriller’ falls short. Instead of presenting a sophisticated reckoning, there is heavy-handedness – a sledgehammer, when a stiletto would have been a better instrument.
The audience is seated on a raised platform directly in front of the stage and the small space means the acoustics work well, but also that every scream and rant (and there are plenty of these in the play) feels amplified.
A nearly two-hour duration sans interval, Werewolf outstays its welcome and its length exemplifies its problematic approach. There is just too much: too much overheated shout-acting and bombastic direction, too much repetition of some of its core messages and too much didacticism. It lacks subtlety and a trust in the audience’s understanding of how propaganda and sly manipulation can flip an idealistic ingénue into a coercive control relationship with the enemy.
The set looks uncannily like Melbourne’s very own State Library forecourt, with its grey steps and sculpture of a collapsed building. Everything, however, is covered with graffiti and debris. It does not augur a happy future for the capital.
The action pivots on the news that a fascist touring party is about to hit Australian shores and Nathan (Ben Walter) and his band of disenfranchised radical lefties are galvanised to stop this from happening. But how much of his beliefs are merely performative politics? The 20-something seems more interested in being a social media sensation, desperate to be famous and to go viral for “punching a Nazi”. Meanwhile Steve (Eddie Orton), the leader of the local right-wing chapter, cosplays being a bogan redneck spouting the usual anti-immigration, white supremacy hate rhetoric to lure disaffected followers, while he himself – like Trump – comes from a wealthy, privileged background.
That both men – the Fascist and the Socialist – have more in common than they think is Badham’s thesis, and there is a lot of satirical swiping at both ends of the spectrum: the extreme left cops it as much as the radical right. The overlap in them both? They believe that, by standing apart from the mainstream, they can transform society into a better version of itself.
Think tanks and media representations weigh into the drama, with everyone either wanting or eluding air-time to talk about the imminent arrival of the overseas fascists. It’s a tinderbox situation.
In short, sharp episodic scenes that are ushered in by explanatory words on a video projection (for example, Nathan’s family dinner) the five actors play a mix of characters, throwing on wigs and clothing as they swap between locations that include a TV studio, a rally or a full-moon forest. The pace is frenetic, and it also means that, tonally, Werewolf is all over the place – a mix of social commentary, satire, polemics and horror. On opening night, the audience was not quite sure how to react – with some nervous inappropriate laughter at some schlocky brutal acts.
The presence of ideological extremes on both sides reaches a natural conclusion: with violence and insurrection. As for the werewolf of the title? It’s a play on the cult movie, American Werewolf in London, and also a nod to a particular cult where white supremacists apparently retreat to the mountains dressed as white wolves. These two stories collude and meld – with the blurring of rigid binaries bringing forth monstrous transformations.
Read: Exhibition review: Isaac Julien, Once Again… (Statues Never Die), MCA
Though its actors are enthusiastic – perhaps overly so, when holding back would’ve been more effective – and its direction similarly energetic, Werewolf needs to be stripped back, edited and finessed. It fits the Fringe remit of being experimental, messy and subversive, but its excessiveness detracts from its storytelling.
Werewolf
Arts Centre Melbourne
Writer: Van Badham
Director: Gary Abrahams
Producer: Ben Walter
Associate Director: Marni Mount
Set and Costume Design: Harry Gill
Lighting Design: Sidney Younger
Sound Design: Daniel Nixon
Stage Manager: Genevieve Davidson
Cast: Ben Walter, Alexandra Aldrich, Simon Corfield, James O’Connell, Michelle Perera
Tickets: $10-$65
Werewolf will be performed until October 2024 as part of Melbourne Fringe Festival.
