That Eye, The Sky is an adaptation of a Tim Winton novel, in which 13-year-old Ort (Joel Horwood) struggles to make sense of life in a small rural town after his father falls comatose following a car accident. It is an exploration of love and meaning in which the sky and country take on a consciousness of their own, and also takes a look at religion, which enters the lives of Ort's family with preacher and itinerant Henry (Shaun Martindale). Ort's sister and mother do their best to cope with the void left behind by his father's accident, slowly losing their grip as the play progresses.
The stage design, by Tom Bannerman, of Richard Roxburgh's and Justin Monjo's adaptation is beautiful. A gigantic glowing box hangs menacingly from the ceiling, representing the cloud hanging over Ort's life after his father's accident, and a huge metal scaffold dominates the stage, used dynamically and to good effect throughout. We also particularly enjoyed the use of dead, grey mannequins in wheelchairs to represent the insensate forms of both father and grandmother.
Where the play suffers most is in the rapid-fire presentation of difficult-to-comprehend events, flashed by in bursts of strobe lighting and grating musical cues, which left us lost and disconcerted. Too much of the dialogue was obtuse or lacking; the rushed vignettes of the second act hinting at some greater meaning that never revealed itself. By the end of That Eye, The Sky we felt as overwhelmed and empty as the characters suffering onstage.
