Play: Sanctuary
Venue: Playbox's CUB Malthouse, Sturt St, South Melbourne
Director: Aubrey Mellor
Cast: Robert Grubb, Felix Williamson
Writer: David Williamson
Synopsis: A morally compromised former TV broadcaster is forced to run a moral gauntlet
Rating: * * * * *
RARELY have we been treated to such a scorching critique of late 20th-Century ideas as in David Williamson's latest play, Sanctuary.
It is a work which re-establishes the playwright as Australia's foremost cultural commentator.
Williamson's savage script explores the atrocities of war and the moral bankruptcies of the mass media yet throughout, the dialogue is well-oiled with black humor.
In truth, this was not a unanimous view among the audience at the play's world premiere on Wednesday.
Some thought it too wordy, others that it was didactic and miscast. Whether this indictment can be put down to churlish envy or mature judgment depends on whether you thrill to a play packed with demanding moral insights.
I found its nimble dissection of US foreign policy (John Pilger wrote the program note) both cogent and, guided by director Aubrey Mellor, neatly attuned to the play's dramatic rhythm.
More importantly, Williamson probes the dark heart of our troubled era, illuminating the way with shafts of insight.
Politically complex, Sanctuary - especially in its second half - also presents a spectrum of psychological truths that put a gloss of humanity over its chilling subject matter.
The play is the story of an Australian foreign correspondent, Robert "Bob" King (Robert Grubb), whose charisma and lack of integrity propel him to the top of American TV.
When we meet him, Bob has made a shock exit from his job and his insufferably self-righteous and "ideologically sound" Australian biographer, John Alderston (Felix Williamson), is about to start an interview at King's opulent Gold Coast retreat.
A current of resentment and contempt flows between the two men, igniting a string of moral and philosophical dilemmas.
This is not Williamson, master of glib middle-class one-liners. This is Williamson driving relentlessly into the quagmire of politics in El Salvador, Guatemala, Cambodia and East Timor.
There are jabs at the US power elite and Australian left wing sanctimony, yet never does Williamson's sword stop swathing through complex issues.
Bob is intelligent and thoughtful. He is no mere fascist romancer. While John, who initially purports to be incorruptible, is soon seen to be a man so twisted by a psychology of abuse that his claim to objectivity and the high ground is seriously undermined.
The casting has its good and bad points. Robert Grubb's Bob has the eloquent earthiness of many Australian journalists, though Grubb might have imparted a smoother sheen to his character's sophistry.
Williamson's stepson, Felix, does well as Bob's short-fused biographer.
As John's glowering disapproval of his subject gives way to a violent sell-out, we are caught in suspense. And the experience is thought provoking and, at the same time, unnerving.