Warning: When they say this play contains loud noises, they mean it. Vigorous and intense, Life’s a Dream, written by Spaniard Pedro Calderon de la Barca in 1636 and set in Poland, is an exhilarating tragi-comic ride offering both brutality and humour, and this Silo Theatre production sets the right tone for both.

The cast – made up of young unknowns, many fresh out of drama school – started with a little trepidation but once they got into the swing of things, their relish of cliches as old as Homer was infectious: there are women disguised as men, a royal son imprisoned to prevent his predicted doom, "blatant lover" liars, a foolhardy jester, ambitious would-be monarchs and a palpable lack of guards, just when they’re needed most. [More]

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Beatrix Christian’s translation of Pedro Calderon de la Barca’s original Spanish text is richly humorous and poetic, a good starting point for director Michael Hurst and his well-appointed cast.  The ostensible plot is about love, loyalty and politics in 17th century Poland, as the future of the Queen’s throne is under contention in her twilight years. 

Accompanying the narrative is a strong undercurrent of the recurring theme of a number of productions I’ve already seen in this Festival – existentialism; what is real, what matters, and why?  Perhaps that’s just the ongoing theme of humanity… In any case, Life is a Dream addresses it with skilfully crafted dramatic power.

Two travellers who have lost their horses encounter a chained man, Segismundo (Sam Snedden) bitterly lamenting his fate, not knowing what he did to deserve incarceration.  The man’s jailer Clotaldo (Johnny Bright) learns he is the father of one of the travellers, Rosaura (Rachel Forman), who is on a quest to kill the man who scorned her: Astolfo, a prince of Moscow (Dan Musgrove).

It turns out Astolfo has eyes for the throne, and to that end is wooing the ageing Queen’s vampish niece Estrella (Natalie Medlock).  Queen Basilia herself (Fern Sutherland) determines to test the doomsday astrological prophecy that claims her only son Segismundo (!), will cause the violent downfall of the Polish empire…

There are plenty more startling twists and subplots that I’ve omitted for fear of spoilage, and which can be found elsewhere online.  It all plays out like a classic historical drama, although the conclusion may not be either as joyous or as tragic as you might expect…

It’s mildly surprising that there are only eight actors playing a total of eleven roles… it seems like more.  The general tone of delivery is melodramatic rather than naturalistic, and all the performances are solid.  Snedden’s soundly executed central role is a challengingly complex one, both fearsome and pathetic.  I also particularly enjoy Bright’s nobly sinister Clotaldo, Sullivan’s frail but staunch matriarch Basilia, and of course Renee Lyons’ hilarious jester of the play Clarion, who quietly steals the show with a frank and human wit.

Victoria Ingram’s anachronistic costume design, combining sensual glamour and military distinction, strikingly evokes a sense of past without needing or wanting to pinpoint any specific historic period.

The appropriately macabre sound design by Jason Smith includes a sound-stage setup so that incidental noises are enhanced with eerie, crunchy reverberation.  John Verryt’s empty black set, with the entire black back wall that dramatically slides open and shut, is a dark canvas for the splendidly minimal lighting compositions of Jeremy Fern, at times so minimal they could almost be called darking compositions.

The slight grade of the stage resembles the old Film Noir camera angle trick, creating a warped, unstable sense of vertigo, until you get used to it.  The sloping floor also enables striking moments of forced perspective, to emphasise status and enhance the formidable presence of key characters, most memorably in Segismundo’s initial entrance. 

Feverish acts of poetic transcendence?  That’s one way of putting it, sure.  Less bloody, rapacious and incestuous (but with more deafening gunshots) than the Ensemble Project’s ‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore in AK07, the distinct neo-classical, technological production values still pack a solid Hurstian punch.  

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