Review – This Old Man
When Dorothy Hewett wrote This Old Man Comes Rolling Home in 1967, she said she wanted “to write of a self-contained world… with its own language, its own folklore, its own values, its own ethos, to write of it with both realism and poetry.” Poetic realism is the name of the game here at the Bakehouse Theatre, directed by and starring stalwart of Adelaide’s standup comedy scene, Ross Vosvotekas. Streuth, you can see his dedication to displaying the true-blue tone, syntax and idioms of a 1950s Redfern.
At first squizz, you could be forgiven for thinking this was a comedy. While three old tipsy sheilas do provide comic relief between the tears of a family tearing itself apart, this is very much a deadset drama that cuts right through the crap. And for the most part, it cuts the mustard. Everyone acts the hell out their parts, putting in a you-beaut effort, milking the ocker vernacular for all its worth and taking the phonetic project seriously.
Putting the hard yacka into playing a character a generation older living a lifetime ago, Cheryl Douglas does a dinkum job portraying Laurie Dockerty – former Belle of Bundaberg – now hung out to dry (or rather she should be put away to dry out). Delia Taylor holds her own as the eldest daughter, living up to foreshadowed comments of her family that she is the strength destined to pull the Dockertys out of their slump.
If there is anything crook with This Old Man, it is not because of Adapt Enterprises’ interpretation but Hewett’s original script. An exploration of a world built by its lingo, this family’s life sentence never reaches a satisfying full-stop. There’s no doubt that this is what Cold War working classes sounded like, to the point that we can ask ourselves to what extent these people still exist today. Tragic figures the lot of them, the Dockertys find few shared paths past the pathos, and we are left to make meaning from the realworld truism that pained people must find their own point.
Bloody oath, this is a legit bit of Australiana, the bloody backbone behind the national vision of ourselves. But it is a heartbreaking slice of life not for the fainthearted. For those battlers who can hack it through the hard yards (and there’s beer and wine specials at intermission if the play hasn’t turned you off the plonk) it’s a hearty meal of dramatic theatre on a winter’s night.
