Duck - Written by Stella Feehily - Downstairs Theatre, Seymour Centre - 23/06/06

Ethan Switch - Sunday, 25 June 2006 - Print Version

Pause for even a second in the automatic doors of the Seymour Centre and feel the clench of the glass swings go cracking a rib. Breathing and walking take a chance and go out with the doors unsure of the passage. In or out, either way there is nothing like skittish electronics.

Menacing with just a bat and hood, an onstage goon keeps an eye on the incoming audience. The walk in features photos in frames along the wall. Lighting is soft and the timing way off for casual or even cursory readings. Conflicts of existence beckon as their placement serves no purpose than to create a block.

Duck stars Candy Bowers of the eponymous production. Unfortunate for the fact that her feet is the reason behind her nickname. And the mind casts itself to the casting of the production. Of the requirement that surely must be met in order to at least fulfil that part of the character.

Abrasive, hopeful and shot to pieces with flickers of a drowning despair, the story manages a feather to deliver buck shots of humour against the various times of utter misery. Ultimately, there's a sense of upward motion in the lives and tribulations of Duck and her best friend Sophie. Even if that slope appears to only be an incremental climb set at degrees no larger than nine.

There's dope smoking for those who enjoy the second-hand experience. A trifle on the weak side, the essence of it all wafting and kicking a lot less than the normal tar and nicotine of the cigarettes. Cancer sticks strangling the air in the latter half of the night. Enough for an effect really, too much for those with weakened skulls.

Beetroot dip looks ostensibly like mashed brains.

Ethan Switch