Just over a month before the Bastille was overtaken in Paris in 1789, on a far distant continent, the same issues of fraternity, equality and liberty were being negotiated in Australia’s first penal colony. In Timberlake Wertenbaker’s award-winning play, these themes are tossed around by Royal Marines, the convicts they imprison and the local government and clergy, especially with a concern raised that the only local entertainments seem to be the regular hangings and floggings. 

When the Governor, Captain Phillip, jests that perhaps they could have other entertainments provided, Second Lieutenant Ralph Clark offers to put on a play using the convicts as his cast. After some entertaining auditions and considerable reflection he decides upon George Farquhar’s restoration comedy, The Recruiting Officer. 

By a happy coincidence, opening night of this production, 4^th June, is also the 225^th anniversary of the actual historic performance. Director/ lecturer, Gaye Poole, has chosen a meaty challenge for the production students of Theatre Studies, who, in addition to performing in this production, must all take on team responsibilities as crew, costume, or publicity. In Poole’s note in the beautifully produced and designed programme, she points out that, as well, they are expected to maintain a journal of the production process, write two essays and also a review.

It’s a perfect vehicle for all of the above and the historic resonances ring loud to our contemporary audiences, too, as do the humanistic themes.  The costumes are particularly fine with contrasts between the raggle-taggle inmates and the crisp bright uniforms of their guards, some of whom – it seems the more sympathetic – are also barefooted. The episodic nature of the script, with scene title announcements and short sharp scenes, also give opportunities for a large cast to take turns in the spotlight, although the frequent scene changes need to move more quickly.

Of course a play within a play device is not new (and neither is the play, having been winning accolades since the late 1980’s) but these historic events in Australia’s murky past capture the imagination, as do the moral considerations of whether theatre can be a humanising influence, as Captain Phillips believes and as Clark comes to experience both for himself and well as for the convicts.

Some of the most poetic or fervent lines are given to the convicts, as in an exchange between John Wisehammer (a wild-haired Sam Domett), picked on by his jail mates for being a Jew, and Mary Brenham, over the beauty of words.

While there are some wooden performances and some of the beautiful language is lost though weaker diction or volume from upstage scenes, for the most part the play carries us along with the hope that despite hanging and flogging and the long delay of a supply ship forcing hunger and extreme measures upon all, the performance of The Recruiting Officer will be able to go ahead.

Connor Maxwell as the hopeful Clark maintains a sense of gravitas throughout, giving a sensitive reading of a compromised character but with some fine moments of humorous interaction with his convict cast members. Other performances as officers stand out: Andrew Hall as the philosophical Governor Phillip, Charisse de Bruyn as the intimidating bully Major Ross.

With the dominant gender of this cast as female, there are strong performances from the convict women, especially Kelsie Morland as the spirited Dabby Bryant, Nicole Campbell as the doomed Liz Morden and Jaimy Bloom as the winsome Mary Brenham – the centre of male rivalry in the colony as well as their production.

Events unfold under the gaze and occasional comment of the Aboriginal people, and here Linda Kells gives a compelling cameo of their gradual development from diffidence to destruction at the hands of the visitors ashore.

Other persuasive characterisations come from Philip Garrity as the artful pickpocket Robert Sideway, whose every appearance lifts the energy; Jeremy Tomkins’ ardent Celt, John Arscott; Tendai Sithole’s exotic Black Cesar and Kate Booker as Ketch Freeman, the reluctant hangman. 

The staging is arresting (no pun intended) with excellent use made of the theatre’s lowered orchestral pit, serving as the convict ship in the confronting opening scene where flogging and despair abound. The rest of the set is simple: bright yellow light falling on golden sand, calico serving as curtain, tents, and in the background a row boat, to remind us of the journey all the actors and indeed all our ancestors, and some of us more recently, have come on.

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