Mojo – Sydney Theatre Company

Overview

There are a multitude of plays out there, but few you'd call 'macho'. Jez Butterworth's early play Mojo is balls-out macho. It's so macho that Guy Ritchie is said to have 'borrowed' from it to make Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and his subsequent macho movie empire. It's a frou-frou of filth, cursing and rock 'n' roll, and it's pretty damn delightful.

Set in 1958, the play peers into a nightclub where a bunch of small-time crooks down uppers and try to clamber up to the big time. There's Potts (Josh McConville); his bestie, Sweets (Ben O'Toole); and the much put-upon Skinny (Eamon Farren). They're excited to have engineered a meeting between the club's fresh rock 'n' roll idol, Silver Johnny (The Snowdroppers' Jeremy Davidson), their boss Ezra and mysterious gangster/music magnate Sam Ross.

The night of carousing that follows comes to an abrupt end when group elder Mickey (Tony Martin) enters with the news that Ezra is dead and Johnny is missing; the boys' meeting was not the victory they'd anticipated. It's panic stations as they await the next move in Ross's siege, and their land — the club — seems under threat.

What makes any of this compelling is the sixth presence, Baby (Lindsay Farris). The both neglected and abused son of Ezra, Baby is a psychopath who at any given moment could act in any number of unpredictable ways. When he's on stage, the tension goes up to 11. He has the innocent face of Alex from A Clockwork Orange and a weightless walk akin to Buffy the Vampire Slayer's creepiest villain, the Gentlemen. That Farris could nail this role so completely within a couple of weeks (after original Baby Sam Haft had to bow out due to illness) is a huge achievement.

In fact, there are great performances all round. McConville has transformed yet again, and his nervy energy drives the show. (Seriously, have you ever seen anyone grind their teeth so intensely it's visible in the nosebleed section? This is your one chance.) Farren manages to earn both our sympathies and our annoyance as the complicated Skinny, and Martin shines as the no-nonsense father figure of Mickey. The accents are spot on; so thick they're hard to understand at first but ultimately transporting. Live music by drummer Alon Ilsar, and Snowdropper Paul Kilpinen fits in well.

Basically every aspect of the production, corralled by director Ian Sinclair, is immaculate. It's a great looking piece of theatre, so the fact that costume designer David Fleischer has curated a '50s inspired 'ready-to-wear' collection is a nice touch. The energy of the whole show doesn't quite match the fire each individual brings to it, but it's strong nonetheless.

Image by Brett Boardman.