“In a democratic
state one must be continually on guard against the desire
for popularity. It leads to aping the behaviour of the
worst. And soon people come to think that it is of no use -
indeed, it is dangerous - to show too plain a superiority
over the multitude which one wants to win over.”
-
Madame de Stael, On Literature and Society,
1800.
“Politics is not the art of the possible. It
consists in choosing between the disastrous and the
unpalatable.”
- J.K. Galbraith in a letter to
President Kennedy, 1962.
The political situation of
the entire planet has altered irrevocably since the first
reading of Burn Her at Auckland's Basement Theatre
three years ago. While both Donald Trump's presidency and
Boris Johnson's premiership have highlighted how constant
lies and smears can become politically acceptable, the
#metoo and #timesup movements have provided a forum for the
global unification of women’s voices. Add the stardust of
Jacindamania to this already inflammable atmosphere and the
time is certainly ripe for Sam Brooks’ latest play to
finally arrive in Wellington. Politics and prove to be an
incendiary mix in Burn Her, the latest offering from
Circa Theatre, with a searing script about charismatic and
idealistic Aroha party leader Aria Robson who has just
clinched her seat in Parliament. That same night, an intern
informs her about a scandal that could sink the party
overnight and she finds herself plunged into the muddy
waters of practical politics.
Burn Her exposes
the brutal world of everyday politics with which women must
engage, articulated especially well in a lengthy monologue
delivered by Aria that evokes both anger and pathos.
However, it is not a political play in terms of its context,
but rather because Brooks never confuses this with its
content. Like Jeremy Larner's screenplay for Michael
Ritchie's 1972 movie The Candidate the context of the
campaign trail provides him with the setting to plough
through a rapid sequence of events in the political and
media arena. While not up to the standard of either Armando Ianucci's The Thick of It or Aaron Sorkin's The West Wing, Brooks has an undeniable
ear for pacey dialogue and cracking wise. His ability to
create strong female roles is evident in a script that is
simultaneously highly intelligent, confrontational, and
funny, reverberating with a musicality that amplifies its
sardonic sense of humour.
Burn Her may be a
remarkably well-crafted script, but even a great piece of
writing requires a skilled support cast and creative team. A
timely and whip-smart production from a powerful female
creative team, the cast includes some of NZ’s premier
thespian talentt. Kali Kopae (Not in our Neighbourhood,
La Casa Azul) plays the strong and empathetic political
campaigner and Sophie Hambleton (Westside) is her
sharp-as-nails publicist George, and both have returned to
work with Director Katherine McRae after their critically
acclaimed version of A Doll’s House. The rest of
the cast are equally riveting - Jean Sergent (Say
Something Nice, This Long Winter), The Court Theatre’s
Lara Macgregor (Misery), Andrew Laing
(Wonderful), and Dryw McArthur (The
Aliens).
Burn Her is engaging, witty, and
exceptionally sharp, with every line of dialogue inserted
for a reason and perfectly delivered by the two leads, who
manage to command their space without competing against each
other. They have a natural ability to lure audiences into
this fictional world in which power, sexual assault, and
discrimination all play their part. The script
counter-balances elements of both comedy and drama, often at
the expense of journalists and news outlets, with multiple
jabs being thrown at the Dominion Post, (referred to
as “The Post,” or some reason). The audience remained on
the edge of their seat throughout the show, alternating
between gales of gasping and pin-drop silences. In the same
way that Othello is arguably more about Iago, Burn
Her is less about Aria and more about George, who
navigates the currents of the political ocean with a
cut-throat realism, providing the voice of reason and
experience at the heart of the drama. It is a balance that
is expertly walked by Hambleton, whose words underscore the
internal struggle with which she is burdened. As Labour’s
Rottweiler, Hambleton illustrates the hardened end of the
spectrum and subtly reveals the true nature of a woman who
holds her cards close to her chest with little more than a
curl of the lip or the raise of an eyebrow. Macgregor gives
an honest portrayal of personal and professional integrity
as both friend and foe, while Danny (Dryw McArthur)
struggles under the emotional weight of a
victim.
The balance of emotional dynamics between
two central characters is especially well-handled. When
confronted with the failings of a confidant, our sympathies
oscillate between Aria, a character who appears to have no
moral flaws, and George, who at first seems simply another
coldly cynical and calculating spin doctor. As the plot
develops, however, we begin to realise that the situation is
more complex, with Aria revealing not only her personal
flaws, but also how systemic discrimination injures
everyone. While George’s tactics may be Machiavellian,
they are deployed in order to keep Aria afloat amid a
political tempest in which she will be disproportionately
scrutinized simply because of her sex and where she will
only be permitted “one fuck up.” We feel both conflicted
and uncomfortable as George tries to turn all the weapons
that have been arrayed against Aria from the moment she
stepped into the political area. While the play exposes the
degree of hypocrisy publicists employ in order to make a
politician appear clean, the demise of the relationship
between the two central characters is also dismaying. The
dilemma for both these ambitious women - each trying to
navigate a world riddled with inequity, one taking the moral
high ground, the other just playing the game - raises the
question of how a sense of mutually supportive feminism can
survive under the crushing weight of institutional
sexism.
Over the last few years Brooks has solidified
his position as one of New Zealand’s most eloquent young
writers, including being named “Auckland’s Most Exciting
Playwright” by Metro Magazine. As Dionne Christain
observed in the New Zealand Herald ,“This is a
wryly observed dissection of where humanity comes into
politics - and life in general - with women at the centre.
Brooks has shoved the male characters aside and by focusing
on strong and complex women, highlights conflict and
contradictions.” He effortlessly throws around one-liners
that sum up the conflicted position a professional woman
finds herself in supposedly enlightened times as Kopea's
idealistic politician buts heads with Hambleton's pragmatic
spin doctor. If Brooks can create such a substantial and
prescient drama at the tender age of just twenty-seven, he
has a promising career ahead of
him.