Lord of the Flies review | Melbourne Fringe Festival | Theatre Works

A group of boys crash-land on an island with no adults around, leaving them to establish their own rules, leadership and hierarchy. It doesn't take long for those structures to start falling apart. Steven Mitchell Wright's production of William Golding's Lord of the Flies follows the familiar story, from the struggle between Ralph and Jack to the growing fear of the beast and the group's descent into violence.

There are different expressions of masculinity at play here with Ralph and Jack become increasingly locked in a contest for authority, driven by competition, intimidation and the desire to command. Simon offers a more gentle alternative, while aggressive behaviour demonstrates how quickly strength and dominance become measures of status. Survival of the fittest is not simply practical, but something the boys perform for the group.

There are also glimpses of something more interesting. A tenderness between twins Sam and Eric provides a brief counterpoint to the aggression elsewhere, while the group's willingness to intimidate and turn on one another exposes the pressures of its emerging hierarchy. We see various forms of masculinity, but rarely how those behaviours are learned, why some are rewarded or what it means to resist them. This is where the diverse ensemble of male, trans and non-binary performers could offer another perspective, but the approach is less radical than the setup implies. The casting doesn't need to become part of the plot, but without a deeper examination of how these ideas are constructed, the production misses an opportunity to make it more meaningful.

Angus Leighton delivers a solid performance as Ralph, giving him a desperate vulnerability as he struggles to maintain control. Sean Yeun Halley brings a more restrained quality to Jack, making his transformation into an authoritarian leader less pronounced than it might otherwise be. Oliver Cowen's Piggy is given little beyond repeatedly complaining about having a meeting, leaving us with no real understanding of him other than being the butt of the joke. Sam Gudgeon fares much better as Simon, bringing a sensitivity to the role and getting a few opportunities to shine on his own, while Oliver Gorringe and Declan Magee work well together as the twins, sharing an authentic rapport that remains understated.

But the generally loud, exaggerated performances make the tension feel performative, working against the production's intention to be visceral and unsettling. Where Wright's direction excels however, is in the physical life of the piece. There is excellent choreography in the way the boys move around one another, form groups and communicate their shifting relationships. With eleven performers on stage, there is an impressive display of control, with the space never feeling overcrowded. Recognisable dance moves from "Macarena" and "Nutbush", along with a homoerotically charged sequence of sweaty dancing, add a surreal atmosphere that works particularly well. 

Jack Burmeister's sound design is exceptional, building suspense, jolting the audience when needed and allowing something sinister to fester beneath the action. Ben Hughes' lighting is equally effective, from flooding the stage blood red to suddenly brightening when reality kicks in. Both designs deftly move between unease, intensity and moments of starkness.

The set takes a stark, industrial approach, with scaffolding forming the hill and a square platform raised towards the audience to create a sloping surface. It produces a cold, brutalist environment and reinforces the story's hierarchies, but there is little sense of the island itself. Where are the trees, bush and natural landscape? Stripping the setting back could suggest that the real wilderness is within the boys themselves, but this is not developed enough to give the absence a clear purpose.

There is plenty to admire in Wright's Lord of the Flies, particularly the physical direction, choreography and design elements. But its exploration of masculinity doesn't push beyond showing us different behaviours, with the heightened performances making the violence less threatening or disturbing. Its ideas about power and competition are strongest when expressed through the physical dynamics of the group, but the production stops short of asking why these patterns take hold.

SHOW DETAILS

Venue: Theatre Works, 14 Acland St, St Kilda
Season: until 2 October | Tues - Sat 7:30pm
Duration: 160 minutes with an interval
Tickets: $55 Full | $48 Conc
Bookings: Theatre Works

Images credit: Matthew Chen