The year is, well, that's hard to say for sure. In a country where all resources are controlled by the Government, it's impossible to be certain of anything. Life in Australia since the civil war is a grind, and an uneasy peace is holding between the northern and southern states. Since the rivers in the Murray-Darling basin were dammed and the land was poisoned, faceless corporations have taken control of food production and the people have been forced to live off the meagre aid the State provides. But what choice do we have? Nothing grows here. Nothing can survive here. With this choke-hold on the populous, the post-war Government maintains its power by keeping its citizens in a state of total obedient dependence. Alternatives are scant: it's either subsist on the handouts or brave the dangers of the black market. Australia is now a country in economic and ecological lock down, a country where life is not so much about living as it is about just making it to tomorrow.
This dystopian vision is the world of writer Josephine Collins' debut play, The Way Out. Commissioned as part of Red Stitch Actors' Theatre's INK scheme - a program that supports the development of new works by emerging playwrights - it's a story of familiar family drama set against the bleak, Orwellian backdrop of a war-ravaged, State controlled future Australia.
The 'disaster epic' is a model that's ripe with dramatic possibilities, but it's also fraught with cliches and threadbare tropes that require careful negotiation to avoid any corny pitfalls. These inherent difficulties haven't put off leagues of storytellers penning seemingly endless dark portents of humanity's impending doom. But despite this overcrowding, Collins' premise is remarkably original, set in the years following a civil war between Australia's North and South; a conflict driven by a man-made ecological catastrophe. So what is it that makes narratives exploring these desolate scenarios, pitting mankind against overwhelming forces, so enduringly fascinating? "I think it's our own anxieties about the state of the world writ large," Collins suggests. "But I also think they're cathartic in some ways. It's an anxiety that we carry with us all the time, so exploring them offers us a chance to find some answers to our questions about the future."
"I think collectively, we feel like this kind of future is inevitable," director Penny Harpham adds. "I think right now, as opposed to maybe ten years ago, we largely understand that we're on the cusp of something majorly destructive. That's especially true for stories that are politically motivated or connected to the environment. They really don't feel beyond the realm of possibility anymore."
The universe Collins has constructed for The Way Out is impressively rich, almost operatic in its scope. But such a wealth of detail can have its drawbacks when it comes to theatre. Harpham, who has worked with Collins to develop this play since its inception, has been instrumental in taking such complex ideas and repackaging them for the stage. "It's been a process of refinement, taking this epic, novel-scale story and focusing it into something dramatically possible on stage," Harpham explains. "It's taken a couple of years to hone those ideas and to figure out what can be achieved theatrically without the need for explanation or dialogue. The first draft of the play was something like 120 pages, now it's down to 55. That's where the collaboration between director and writer is really important."
"We have to survive in this world and in its future. And we will."
It's a partnership that has proven to be uniquely simpatico for Collins and Harpham, who as sci-fi fans with rural upbringings share mutual experiences that have been vital to the development of this production. "I grew up in a town of 600 people, eight hours west of Brisbane. Josephine grew up in rural Victoria, so we shared a major geek out over the country aspect of this play. We've been able to say, let's let this story be unashamedly fucking country. We're embracing it in a way that might not work in another context. But this is a sci-fi country and western. That's what we're making, so let's go there," Harpham smiles. "Here in Melbourne we eat brunch and sip lattes, but actually, the soul of Australia is tough and unsentimental, and that's what we've tried to capture."
This conscious step away from sentimentality has also opened up another opportunity for The Way Out to explore new territory in an otherwise thoroughly charted genre. Disaster narratives are usually dominated by male characters, who invariably display a similar weathered heroism, usually applied to saving a damsel in distress. Collins has turned this stereotype on its head, placing a tenacious female character — Helen, portrayed by Brigid Gallacher — at the centre of the play, so that this dystopian parable is not only about ecological and societal decay, but also the power of female agency. "We very good, as women, at imagining a different way, because we've had to, by necessity, our whole lives. In these kinds of stories, women rarely have the chance to be Superman. So we wanted to ask the question: what would it be like if Superman was female? What would that look like?" Harpham shares. "This world our characters are living in is incredibly oppressive, and the only person who can break out of that is Helen. And that's not because she's dramatic, and it's not because she has a gun and she's going to fuck shit up like an action hero. It's because, very simply, she believes there's another way to exist. I think that's at the heart of feminism for me; believing there's another way do to things."
Infusing a story of empowerment and intelligence into the makeup of this play has been vital in communicating an underlying message. Collins and Harpham may be taking their audience to an ominous place in Australia's far flung future, but at the heart of this narrative is a reassuring note of optimism. "We have to survive in this world and in its future. And we will," Collins insists. "We're humans. Wherever there are humans there are families, there is love, people laugh and have a good time and find ways to celebrate and come together. Humans are always going to be funny. They're always going to try and cheer each other up, even in the worst possible conditions. So this kind of dystopian story becomes about trying to understand how we maintain our humanity under these circumstances."
Red Stitch Actors' Theatre presents the world premiere of The Way Out, till 24 Sep.
