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Hate: Not all is fair in love and war

There is often something generically dry about Australian politics when depicted in
fiction. Something strained, methodical, and fraudulent.

Perhaps because it takes place during an uncharacteristic monsoonal downpour in rural
Australia, Stephen Sewell’s Hate does away with this aridity. Instead it presents a vivid and
impassioned psychodrama, which deals not only with the trials of political procedure, but
the carnage it can inflict on an individual and his family.

Hate is the story of the Gleason dynasty: a wealthy, formidable family headed by
the ferociously patriarchal John Gleason, a conservative politician whose Machiavellian
resolve seeps from his office into his home life. Trapped together in the family farmhouse due
to flooding, John (William Zappa), his frenetic wife Eloise (Glenda Linscott) and their three
adult children, Raymond (Grant Piro), Celia(Sarah Wiseman) and Michael (Ben Geurens),
are at each other’s throats – metaphorically,and sometimes literally. It doesn’t help that
there is a large fortune at stake, nor that the children are respectively sycophantic,
contemptuous and drug-dependent, and all equally as savage as their father. Tension rises
to a catastrophic climax.

Directed by Marion Potts, Malthouse Theatre’s recent production of Hate was not
to be scoffed at. Counteracting naturalistic dialogue with non-naturalistic staging,
Potts delivered a complex and engaging performance, which, though censurable in
detail, was holistically gratifying.

Being a relatively minimalist set, the blocking did seem slightly languid. What they lacked in innovative physicality the actors made up for in expressiveness. Special note goes to Linscott, whose emotional transformations created some of the play’s most poignant moments. Wiseman too appeared to have taken to her role easily, whereas Piro and Guerens struggled more to clear the caging of character prototypes.

But credit where credit is due, for it couldn’t have been an easy script to tackle.
Although the dialogue suffered a little at times from stinted or transparent line delivery, each actor contributed to a series of heightened monologues during the performance that
showcased their individual strengths.

The standout, however, was unquestionably Zappa. Stiff, steely and scintillating, his portrayal of a character of such callousness suggested an unlikely flicker of sheer humanity.

Hate was originally written as a pitiless reflection of Australian politics in the late twentieth century. It was a little disconcerting to see how relevant the themes of greed, deceit and betrayal remain in certain instances of contemporary leadership. Potts’ approach to
representing the fact was well executed.

The set (designed by Dayna Morrissey) with its abattoir-esque chute centre stage
served as a symbolic reminder that in the hands of politics – whether governmental or
familial – we are all lambs to the slaughter.

The stage itself extended diagonally through the centre of the Merlyn Theatre,
essentially dividing the audience in half. From any given seat, one’s view was restricted to
whatever action happened to be facing the right direction. This created an objective
fly-on-the-wall scenario, as if one were a piece of extravagant unused furniture
inside the Gleason family home. During the constant instances of heated conflict amongst
characters, the performance space felt rather claustrophobic – as an audience we too were
trapped inside the house, unable to escape.

Admittedly, there were moments I wanted to reach for one of the dozens of liquor
bottles piled across stage and take a hearty swig. That said, I really didn’t hate it.

Lot's Wife Editors

The author Lot's Wife Editors

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