“Always have your hatpin ready,” my maiden great-aunt Ada, born 1884, used to warn me. 

She worried about ‘ruffians’ pouncing on me in dark streets, but I was a daughter of the swinging sixties, the hippy free-love seventies. I was more concerned with maintaining my image as a desirable dolly-bird, a liberated flower-child. I learned all too soon the danger was not the masked stranger in the bushes. 

Now here we are, half a century later, in a terrifyingly misogynist world where, like so many women (and men of integrity) I will never, until the day I die, understand why “Grab them by the pussy!” was not the end of one despicable monster. So, on the eve of US elections that may give power to a woman, or power to a man who has demonstrated utter contempt for women, this compelling and influential play about sexual assault matters tremendously, and it matters that producer/director Lara Macgregor has had the sheer guts to bring this international sensation to Dunedin, forming her own company for the purpose, Birds of a Feather..

It is not that we have not had some wonderful work written on this sensitive subject – from Carolyn Burns’ Objection Overruled at the Fortune in 1982, and Renee’s Tiggy Tiggy Touchwood in 1992, through to 2018, the year before Prima Facie premiered in Australia, when I reviewed Eleanor Bishop’s searing Jane Doe for Theatreview. (Jane Doe could be any woman, aged 16, 23, 13, 64. The men are convicted. Or more likely not. Jane Doe comes to believe it was not her fault. Or she doesn’t. “And somewhere, another Jane Doe goes to a party…” Chilling.) 

Prima Facie differs in that it is one unique woman’s story, presented as a solo by a necessarily highly accomplished actor, but also because it is about that woman’s uncritical passionate belief in the legal system which is the centre of her life. It is a marathon for any actor, requiring both vulnerability and buoyant charisma. Emotionally and physically exhausting though it must be, the team of Lara Macgregor and Serena Cotton truly deliver.

 At first, barrister Tessa Ensler is on a bubbly high, her feet firmly on the ladder to success, her relationships with her legal boss and colleagues satisfying. In a high energy fast-paced opening speech, Tessa shares with us the thrill of the court, gloatingly lets us in on the secrets of a brilliant, vicious cross-examination. She even has time for a social life, partying hard, drinking and flirting up a storm, her long blonde hair tossing as she dances daringly on the table.

Tessa is not exactly a likeable character. I am reminded of the first line of Austen’s Emma in which we are introduced to a heroine enjoying such a privileged life, and so bloody complacent about it, that you just can’t wait to see her taken down a peg or two. For her own good, of course. Tessa has grown ruthless in overcoming many barriers to get where she is, a high-flying defence-lawyer, who knows just how to destroy a witness and win her client’s case, whether he is guilty or not, and she absolutely revels in it. Not qualities that would be a drawback were she a man.

Still, we are beginning to dread what we know is to come. Since our arrival at the theatre, we have been wrapped in a warm blanket of care – trigger warnings, packets of tissues, people to talk to afterwards – but with so much advance publicity throughout the world (there are 11 productions in Germany alone, a film made, a book written) no spoiler alert is needed. Tessa will herself be subjected to a sexual assault. And not by a stranger.

The consequences of this attack make up the equally gripping second half, which has actually had an impact on the way rape trials are conducted in some countries: Tessa’s hideous journey from police station to hospital to biased court of law. We share with this clever woman, who has dedicated her talents and her life to the law, a growing visceral awareness of the sheer injustice of treating the victim as the one who must be interrogated and broken down. And we long for her to find her strength. Don’t let the bastards grind you down. Kia kaha, Tessa. 

The issues are so powerful, lawyer Suzie Miller’s writing so honest, it could be easy to overlook the skilful direction and acting that make this production so impactful. Lara Macgregor, endowed with almost legendary status in our arts community from her tenure as Artistic Director of the Fortune, has moved mountains to ensure funding for Prima Facie, striving to create sustainable careers for artists. Dunedin has responded with enthusiasm, and the theatre is packed with an extraordinarily warm and responsive audience. 

Macgregor’s direction is strikingly effective and polished, often inspired. Every inch of the stage is imaginatively exploited, the pace is excitingly driven but never manic. The scene of the assault is breath-takingly handled. And Serena Cotton is a fine actor, certainly worthy to be added to the growing list of splendid actresses world-wide who have seized on the challenging role as a career highlight.

The script is intriguingly structured, not altogether linear, with episodes from the past interwoven with the present. We see a little of Tessa’s family: her prosaic but touchingly supportive mother, her brother, once her best mate, at puberty entering the world of macho posturing that drives a rift between them. Some 25 characters are convincingly fleshed out by Cotton, while Macgregor skilfully manages these swift transitions so there is no confusion about the who/where/when of the narrative. Add slick little onstage costume changes, dark suit to pink shirt, white blouse to shiny dress, along with small calculated shifts of the furniture, and we have such a sense of variety it is hard to believe this is essentially a monologue.

Otago University’s Allen Hall Theatre is famed throughout Aotearoa for its cutting-edge technological supremacy. If Martyn Roberts (lighting), Matthew Morgan (sound) and their team cannot produce a particular effect, it hasn’t been invented yet. But probably will have been, by the next time you visit Allen Hall. And Macgregor has ensured every effect in her Prima Facie is designed not for show, but for the sole purpose of embracing and supporting the lone actor.

Mark McEntyre has designed a set that is simplicity itself: a table, chairs, a clothes-rack, two filing cabinets, and a square of strip lighting giving the floor the appearance of a boxing ring. Here is all the scope needed for sudden dazzlingly brilliant or gently moody changes of light, enhanced by sound effects that range from jarring crashes of noise to softly falling rain. The audience enters to a blast of I fought the law… (impossible not to bellow…and the law won!), but within the play are original, haunting compositions by musician David Harrison and promising young singer Sylvie Harper.

In Lara Macgregor’s brave, mighty achievement and Serena Cotton’s impressive performance – both of them respected professionals like Tessa, highly skilled and experienced in their craft – we are reminded of the continued urgency of our battle to bring professional theatre back to Otepoti Dunedin. Funding for a proper space is no mere vanity project for our artists. Birds of a Feather’s outstanding and unmissable production of Prima Facie reminds us how desperately we need the forum, the invitation to empathise and discuss and change each other’s minds that only live theatre offers.

Despite my great-aunt’s hat pin (yes, she lent me one!) I became, of course, one in three (surely that must be even higher), not too traumatically compared to some of my friends, but so often it became simply a weary expectation. We were resigned. Thanks to women/artists/fighters like Suzie Miller, Lara Macgregor, Serena Cotton, and to the power of theatre, the world is becoming less resigned, ‘something has to change’, now even the law is taking notice, and that vile ‘grab’ is more likely to be met with courage – with outrage. Rage!

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