Emerald City

An opening crowd of actors talk about the soullessness of LA, the impossible fantasy of Hollywood, before doors open.

Onstage inside there are movies to be written, scripts to be optioned, cocktails to be drunk – all the reckless excess and ambition of the ‘80s beautifully blunted by Australiana.

As the critically acclaimed and creatively stifled screenwriter Colin, Mitchell Butel articulates and illustrates the struggle between cash and creativity wonderfully – the open hostility of his marriage provides unsettling hilarity (there is wonderful chemistry with Lucy Bell), as does the tug-of-war he engages in with lesser writer Mike.

Last minute replacement for Marcus Graham, Ben Winspear plays the wheeling and dealing Mike as truly ailing; like a sinister, boganised Cosmo Kramer. He is everything you want from a ‘big picture’ guy.

By contrast Jennifer Hagan does not yet seem fully settled in her role as old guard agent Elaine Ross, whose five-hour lunches perhaps go a little way to explaining bouts of addled aloofness.

With the ‘scallop vs potato cake’ war still dripping hot oil there couldn’t be a better time for a revival of David Williamson’s Emerald City, Melbourne pitted against Sydney in this cleverly executed self-reflexive look at the ‘Cutting edge of middle class’.