Fractured, a new play by Adam J.A. Cass and directed by Peta Hanrahan of Verve Studios, is a confronting exploration of the diminishing role of empathy in a broken world.
Set in a post-apocalyptic future, Fractured examines the ethical challenges that face the members of the “Extended Family”, a privileged group of people who live in comfort and security, safe from the violent chaos outside. Though hundreds of desperate people live and die just beyond the windows of their home, the only people the Extended Family can save are those who they can name.
Suzi Loo, a childlike character played by Nicole Morgan, ‘names’ Astrid, a feral child brought to life with convincing physicality by Danelle Wynne. Astrid, rescued against her will, refuses to ‘name’ another person. Her rebellion is an impetus for the characters to examine the morality of the “Extended Family”.
Fractured is a very ambitious play that addresses some of the most important ideas in ethics: do people have a duty to care for complete strangers? And if so, how large a sacrifice is required in the provision of care? The influence of philosophical concepts, such as David Hume’s ‘narrow circle’ and Peter Singer’s utilitarianism, is immediately recognizable and these complex ideas are portrayed simply and effectively.
While Cass’ writing is excellent, there were a number of directorial issues. At one point, ‘sleeping pills’ are handed out to members of the audience. The intended meaning or effect of this distracting gesture is unclear: it doesn’t even seem to symbolise a shift into a collective dreamlike state. It undermines the audience’s suspended belief (the pill is obviously a breath mint), fails to create a more immersive experience, and the overall effect is one of confusion.
There was also a problem with continuity and credibility. One of the characters spends the first few minutes of the play aiming his rifle around the inside of the sanctuary, even though it’s been established as a safe and secure space. Later, he somehow uses the butt of this rifle to amputate another characters arm.
To add to the confusion, the rifle is an undisguised hockey stick, which is jarring in an otherwise naturalistic production. Some of the costuming is also highly symbolic and doesn’t seem credible in the context of an apocalypse. The train of Pillar’s kimono extends from one end of the stage to the other, and while visually striking, seems out of place. Likewise, though Wynne’s bright pink onesie highlights the youth of her character, it’s unnecessary given the vitality of her energetic performance.
These issues aside, there was a lot to like about Fractured. Canada White’s lighting choices are evocative, a luminous umbrella is used especially well. Another strong point is Amy Firth’s performance, hugely effective in its subdued intensity.
Fractured is misrepresented as a comedy: it’s a dark political allegory which seeks to re-contextualise the principal moral questions of the 21st century. Though it doesn’t realise this lofty ambitions, Fractured is an arresting piece that asks very difficult questions.
Fractured is on at Club Voltaire, 14 Raglan Street, North Melbourne from 15-20 September at 7.30pm. For more information or to book tickets, please visit the Melbourne Fringe website or call the ticketing team on 9660 9666.
