Lord of the Flies

Teenage boys try to replicate civil society on a desert island. Should be a cinch.
Dianne Cohen
April 20, 2012

Overview

A fly is buzzing so loudly that the fine hairs on my ears prickle. Irritated, I go to swat at something in the air. These are some convincing sound effects.

Tight production elements mark this staging of the William Golding classic Lord of the Flies (adapted by Nigel Williams). Marooned on an island during the Cold War, a bunch of prepubescent boys struggle with all matters relevant to the replication of civil society: democracy, defence, housing, food acquisition and rituals. Yet when the conch is stolen, the war paint spreads and hunting takes precedence, any common decency becomes swallowed by the impossibly thick scrub of the island and the mercilessly blinding sun.

The minimalist raked stage, partly surrounded by water, becomes a canvas upon which the boys’ performance paints a pulsing morass of hysteria, mind-wrenching confusion and throttling rugby scrums and the Beastie's presence can be felt, presiding over them, egging them on.

Director Anthony Skuse brings an innovative approach to this canonical narrative as a chorus of boys feature side-stage wearing large oversized heads like fragile cocoons containing dead flies. The giant heads behave like a Greek chorus, wobbling and mocking Piggy (Samuel Rushton) and Ralph's (Andrew Ryan) attempts to protest the irrational decisions of the group and nodding solemnly when Simon (Stephen Lloyd-Coombs) makes the terrifying realisation of his own madness.

In the darkness, a body appears, bloody and wretched, crawling across the stage, its wet flesh flogged, its matted head slung forward and its pained face concealed. Simon yells accusations at the crawling mess. He growls in a deep menacing voice at the body then jerks his neck to accommodate another small voice that giggles and refutes the angry man inside. Once the voice of reason and philosophical inquiry, Simon is having another 'turn' yet he is terrified of having another turn. The fine line between sanity and insanity is blurred and the ability to control oneself when left to one's own devices is put into question. His tortured performance left my eyes glittering with cold tears.

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