Three Little Words (MTC)

If there's one thing playwright Joanna Murray-Smith knows, it's first world problems. But does the fact her characters inhabit a world of white, middle-class privilege make their predicaments any less stage-worthy? This question is surely the fault line that separates those who see Murray-Smith's theatre as wry and witty social commentary, and those who believe her plays to be pandering potboilers. Arguably, there's a little truth in both those perspectives, but one thing is indisputable: Murray-Smith is an expert at what she does. Whether you love or loathe her plays, it would be very hard to fault their craftsmanship.

Three Little Words is Joanna Murray-Smith at her Joanna Murray-Smith-iest. In a nicely furnished living room, four friends are enjoying some wine after a dinner party to celebrate the 20th wedding anniversary of Tess (Catherine McClements) and Curtis (Peter Houghton). They are joined at this low-key soiree by their two closest friends, Annie and Bonnie (Kate Atkinson and Katherine Tonkin), also a couple.

During this pleasant get-together, Tess and Curtis drop a bombshell: they are splitting up. Like Gwyneth and Chris, theirs is a conscious uncoupling. Tess, confronted by her own mortality after the death of her mother, finds herself too comfortably ensconced in a marriage that has become set in its ways. Despite the security and still reasonably passionate romance of her relationship, it is a cul-de-sac, and Tess is yearning for her life to have an open road stretching out before it. Because he cares deeply about his soon-to-be ex, Curtis becomes complicit in the break-up, trying (to a fault) the be the supportive, sensitive, non-patriarchal metrosexual he knows he should be.

While their daughter, and presumably other friends and relatives, common in their absence from the stage, are ok with this paradigm shift, Annie and Bonnie are not. Tess and Curtis were the shining examples of devoted monogamy that they aspired to, and despite their friends' apparent ease with the idea of breaking up their marriage, they cannot condone the laissez-faire abandonment of two decades of wedded bliss.

At this point, the plot hovers in a limbo of possibilities. Will this play be an attack on the hypocrisy of marriage inequality, as two heterosexuals play fast and loose with their marriage vows in front of a gay couple who have been denied the privilege? Will this be a study in gender subversion, as we see the male archetype of the midlife crisis inverted? Will the titular three little words end up being "fear of death" as Tess wrestles with the stark but unavoidable truth that the loss of her mother puts her next in line for the great beyond?

As it turns out, nothing as knotty as any of that. Tess and Curtis hash out an increasingly acrimonious, but oh so obvious schism that becomes so wrapped up in bourgeois, materialist spite that it is robbed of any humanist sophistication it might have tapped. There are nasty tussles over a whisky tantalus (whatever that is) — an idee fixe that becomes almost laughably regurgitated. There's the disappointingly trite introduction of a younger woman, complete with all the inevitable sourness. And as the coup de theatre, a bit of domestic violence that quickly devolves into Benny Hill-level slapstick. The lesbian couple, a loaded choice one might expect, appear to be nothing more than cosmopolitan window dressing, as the complexities that still confront even city-dwelling gay men and women in 2017 are conveniently glazed over.

There's plenty of wit, as we've come to expect from Murray-Smith, and armed with these nifty zingers, director Sarah Goodes leverages some pleasing performances from the cast, keeping this piece in an entertaining zone of bright, nimble humour. Catherine McClements is the stand-out of the night, as she gradually unravels, realising what a costly misjudgement she has made in pulling the pin on her momentary desire for singledom. By and large, none of the characters are granted any moments of significant vulnerability or discovery, but then again, this play never makes any overtures to profound gravitas or excoriating truth. Three Little Words is, by design, theatre that avoids complication, and for many theatregoers, that's exactly how they like it.

Melbourne Theatre Company presents Three Little Words, till May 26 at Southbank Theatre.