Melbourne writer Michelle Lee has an exceptional grasp on capturing the atmosphere and sound of a place. In Single Ladies at Red Stitch, the place is Smith Street – the Collingwood side – around the posh new Coles.
Single Ladies closed before it opened in 2020 and the joy of being back in the St Kilda theatre to see a new play set in Collingwood is as exciting as it was to drive to Fitzroy for a haircut and rooftop tapas after lockdown. It was developed through Red Stitch’s Ink program for new writing, which continues to produce new writing that finds its way into the Australian playwriting canon.
Lilike (Caroline Lee) has lived in Collingwood for so long that she’s invisible, despite her blue hair and loud determination to stop development. Her biggest regret is letting her brother buy out her half of their terrace. Anne (Andrea Swifte) has bought one of the flats above Coles off the plan. It’s smaller than she’s used to living in but it’s convenient, the cafes are nice and she’s certain that the old-school Collingwood feeling of community will eventually welcome her. Rachel (Jem Lai) can’t think about buying yet. She’s renting in the same block and delivering Uber meals. She knows that the popular $30 pad Thai is from a packet but is distracted when she’s driving, and a nervous dog has escaped from Lilike’s yard with its dodgy reno.
If you live in Melbourne, you know these women and this place. People from Lilike’s generation remember Smith Street as a working-class family suburb that developed from an inner-city slum. Those of us around Anne’s age remember grunge and clubs at night and second-hand bargains, cheap food and the Friends of The Earth shop during the day. Rachel’s friends know it as the place for authentic vegan ramen (on the Fitzroy side) and a short walk to the Lululemon outlet store. If you don’t live in Melbourne, you know a suburb like it. One that you may regret not buying into because it’s now a centre of bougie restaurants and expensive new flats that all look the same and have odd-shaped second bedrooms. And where people without homes still beg for food on the streets.
Director Bagryana Popov lets the stakes develop from a gentle story about a lost dog to a deeper reflection on loneliness, how lives take wrong turns no matter how secure they seem, and how community and friendship can be found even when you don’t want it. Single Ladies was written pre-Covid, but the last year has added layers of understanding as loneliness became an even more common experience.
Romanie Harper’s costumes show everything about each character – Donald Duck t-shirt, off-white ensemble, and jacket that holds everything – and her sliding panel design makes the tiny stage feel big. But it’s the collage screens with wood panels, faux marble, pressed metal, and colour blocks that nail the changing and mixed aesthetics of an inner-city suburb.
Lee, Swifte and Lai each bring personal reflection to their characters and let the comedy come naturally as they try to be open while keeping their saddest secrets. But their styles of performance clash at times, which can force comparisons that focus on the actor rather than the character.
Maybe too many of the (very welcome) laughs come from knowing the Melbourne in-jokes, and some resolutions feel easy, but Single Ladies resonates with its story about loneliness, community and friendship coming from people we least expect it from.