The set is quite fancy for a Basement Studio production, let alone a Sainsbury.  It’s still very minimal, albeit spread out to denote three distinct locations (bar, bedroom, café/restaurant). The mostly black décor with red highlights, along with the shiny bar top and the classy divan, all on the polished wooden studio floor create the likable illusion of some sort of production budget. 

Anyway, it’s a smart set that once again goes uncredited.  The very brief programme names the two poster designers (Anu Webster and Melanie Webster) but not the set, lights or sound.  Left to guess, I presume playwright/director Thomas Sainsbury is largely responsible, possibly with significant input from producer/lead actor Roberto Nascimento. 

We open in a seedy pub, but this is no clichéd man-walks-into-a-bar setup; the man (Nascimento) is already there, working behind the counter even.  There’s a girl too (Elizabeth McGlinn), but she doesn’t walk in either, not this first time anyway; she’s been there for nearly an hour, her date having stood her up.

The nature of the ensuing tale is such that it’s hard to reveal much of the plot without making spoilers, given that virtually every scene contains some form of revelation that shifts the balance of power and changes the direction of each character’s desires and intentions.  The action is predominately conversation-based, with a largely casual, low key energy that borders on sombre but is carried by the script’s subtly natural wit.

Essentially a mercurial love-triangle, from the outset there is an element of curiosity concerning young ‘Pussy’, and her uncanny resemblance to someone from the man (‘Roberto’)’s past.  The mystery compounds in scene 2 with the arrival of ‘Cleo’ (also McGlinn), physically a dead ringer for Pussy, but the diametric opposite in every other way. 

Cleo is ambitious, confident, assertive and more than a little spiteful and severe.  By comparison, Pussy is nervous but outgoing, wears her heart on her sleeve; she is always willing to put out and ultimately get her heart broken again.  Meanwhile Roberto is himself torn between the easy affections of Pussy and the icy allure of Cleo, engaging in a series of calculated strategies to obtain his ultimate prize.

With the female characters’ respective relationship issues and ostensibly manipulative tactics, some onlookers may regard the underlying message of the story as misogynist.  But Roberto himself is no saint, making every play to his perceived advantage according to the present dynamics of each relationship.  This isn’t misogyny; it’s classic Sainsbury-style misanthropy, where the most stereotypically small-minded traits are all too painfully recognisable. 

Whether it’s the classy set or the well-focused – and in McGlinns’s case, quite versatile – performances, this particular offering from the prolific pen of Mr. Sainsbury has a more polished, complete feel than usual, almost like a ‘normal play’.  This is neither an indictment on the anarchic quality of his other works, nor to suggest it’s a shortcoming in this one.  In any case, it’s still plenty abstruse, and the conclusion is certainly not tidy or gratifying. 

One or two scenes do feel a bit protracted, but it’s conceivable the awkward discomfort it evokes may be tailored to highlight the frustrations of the wishy-washy, self-sabotaging, second-guessing sado-masochism of the human condition.  Whether you regard that sort of thing as worthwhile or not, it’s bound to get you thinking.

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