Tidy Town of the Year

Overview

In one of the funniest scenes in Tidy Town of the Year, Pamela (Victoria Greiner), overcome by an overwhelming need to vomit, staggers across the stage, fumbling with a plastic bag. As it slips this way and that, like a struggling puppy in her hands, she looks like she’s about to explode.

Up until now, we’ve only known Pamela as the prim, uptight cleaner of the Traveller’s Rest Motor Inn Motel. But she’s just seen a limbless dead body in one of the bathrooms. It’s a discovery that not only provokes a violent physical reaction but also threatens her life-long dream: to see the fictitious Australian town of Gandiddiyup crowned ‘Tidy Town of the Year’.

The scene hinges on a mix of identification, surprise, timing and physicality. One part of us recognises the frustration of wrestling with a plastic bag that will not open; another delights in Pamela’s sudden loss of control. Under the co-direction of Sean O’Riordan and Deborah Jones, Greiner serves a deliciously exaggerated dose of slapstick, without giving away where she’s going.

It is these nuances that are imperative to laugh-out loud comedy. Tidy Town of the Year hits the sweet spot on several occasions. However, there are moments when it misses.

Here’s the premise. Pamela and co-cleaner Rover (Andy Leonard) are preparing a room in anticipation of the arrival of Tony Clare, Minister for Tourism and Tidy Town judge, when new staff member Hope (Sarah Hodgetts) arrives, carmine-lipped, utterly uninterested in picking up a mop and, apparently, hot for Rover. The discovery of a corpse unleashes not only intense mutual suspicion but the unravelling of personal frailties and dirty secrets.

Greiner, Leonard and Hodgetts — all co-writers of the script — embrace their roles with gusto. They’re good to watch and a bubbling energy pervades throughout, while temporal and dynamic undulations, bizarre plot twists and some clever one-liners maintain our engagement. O’Riordan and Jones utilise every corner of the Old Fitz’s tiny stage, arranging the trio in one formation after another, all the while keeping the dramatic action natural.

The set (designed by Matt de Haas) is every bit the country town motor inn, complete with bad oil portraits, sepia photographs, poo-brown shag rug and faux-wood fridge. Sound designer Marcello Fabrizi and lighting designer Dimitra Kiriakopolous mirror the dramatic changes with rock songs, revving motor bikes, sudden blackouts and police sirens.

It’s fun and fast-paced. But, ultimately, the comic and emotional impact is limited by uneven scriptwriting and some structural flaws. Gags that perform as motifs, such as Pamela’s small-town pride and Rover’s pedantry, are amusing at first but tend to become repetitive rather than developmental. Too often, the characters lapse into stock simplicity, their hidden weaknesses and personal sadnesses conveyed painfully obviously, without any deep or clever exploration. So much is going on at once that the storyline feels as though it's travelling in circles rather than moving forward.

All-in-all, it’s a lightly entertaining night out that provokes some genuine laughs, but for the Greiner-Leonard-Hodgetts combo to realise its theatrical potential, we’ll need to see a more meticulous sorting of what works from what doesn’t and a more concentrated focus on narrative cohesion.