Food – Belvoir and Force Majeure

In a takeaway joint along a lonely stretch of highway, two sisters serve Chiko Rolls to truckers and live off their memories.
Dianne Cohen
March 31, 2012

Overview

Before heading along to Belvoir St Theatre, I usually say to people, "Oh, I'm going to see one of those edgy plays downstairs at Belvoir, you know, the kind with some nebulous storyline, butt cheeks right up in your face and someone smoking weed on stage."

But Food is different. Writer and co-director Steve Rodgers has still included all that wonderful Belvoir-esque wackiness, swearing and gritty arthouse Australiana, but there was a depth and meaning in this work that I had never experienced in this theatre before.

At the crack of dawn, Elma (Kate Box) is kneading and slamming dough on the counter in a takeaway joint somewhere in the backwaters of middle Australia while her sister, Nancy (Emma Jackson) pulses and jerks the night away in a South-East Asian nightclub. For two years, Nancy went missing, but unlike in a 'normal' family, her absence was never reported.

Time skips forward and now that Nancy has returned, the sisters are left to their own devices in a family of two where they work hard to supply the local town with a staple supply of spring rolls, dim sims and Chiko Rolls. Between the shouting and banter of kitchen orders, sisterly squabbles and head-gripping wrestling, their teen-hood pains and complications begin to rise up like leavened bread.

To add a little spice to the mix, a foreigner arrives in response to their kitchen-hand job advertisement. Hakan Leventelou (Fayssal Bazzi), from Olympus, Georgia explains nervously that his first name means 'Emperor' or 'King' and his family name means 'Son of Handsome'. With natural exuberance, he seasons their day-to-day grind with delectable anecdotes, incessant singing and adorable jokes about mice and dogs. He is also a man who loves "to watch and admire the women all the day", he explains in his thick, rhythmic accent. Tension builds between Hakan's overarching romantic universal perspective versus the sisters' static obsession with "who once stole whose Uggies". Wary as ever, Elma warns Hakan, "Mind your manners and don't fuck us around or I'll cut off your button." "Button?" he asks.

Co-director Kate Champion, with her strong dance theatre background, has cleverly planned the choreography to the point of seamlessness. Although the stage barely changed, scene changes took place through movement and short interludes of carefully thought-out lapses, thus entering new situations or moments through the make-believe of your mind.

Hakan may have been baffled by Elma’s button reference, but his intuition told him to tread carefully with these women.

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