The title of Martyna Majok’s Pulitzer Prize-winning play immediately evokes thoughts of skyrocketing rental prices, the grocery duopoly, and the decline in bulk-billing GPs. While Cost of Living does touch on pressing issues like these, it also delves deeper – exploring not only the economic costs, but also the emotional and social toll of navigating a world that places numerous barriers around the fundamental human right to receive care.
Vulnerable, honest, and often heartwarmingly funny – the Australian production of this celebrated Broadway show (a co-pro from Sydney Theatre Company and Queensland Theatre) not only proves that inclusive storytelling is possible, but also that it can be profoundly impactful when disabled people are given the opportunity to participate in the telling of their stories. Centering around two characters living with visible disabilities (one present since birth, and the other acquired later in life) receiving care, Cost of Living explores disability as a multidimensional experience. Co-directors Priscilla Jackman (RBG: Of Many, One) and Dan Daw (The Dan Daw Show) – who also features in the cast – treat the characters with a sense of dignity and nuance that is all-too-rarely afforded to people with physical differences.
First, we meet Eddie (Philip Quast - Do not go gentle…) – an ex-truck driver whose many years on the road and in lonely motels across the United States have left him feeling uneasy about being alone with his thoughts. His attempts to fill the silence with words and mask his discomfort with charm are overshadowed by a palpable loneliness. After losing his trucking licence to a DUI, he is now unemployed and widowed – and despite being 12 years sober, we find him in a bar.
Cost of Living invites audiences to consider the mental and emotional labour of navigating life as a person with a disability
Eddie’s estranged wife, Ani (Kate Hood - MTC’s Escaped Alone) – a fierce, independent woman with a sharp wit – who is grappling with the loss of her autonomy after an accident left her with quadriplegia. Hood’s stand-out performance reveals the rarely-seen anger and frustration of disabled individuals, challenging the often one-dimensional expectations of them as either martyrs or symbols of brokenness.
When Ani’s nurse unexpectedly quits, Eddie takes on her caring duties – despite Ani’s protests. Their marriage might only exist as paperwork now, but Eddie wants to be there for her and knows he is the only person who can do it. Despite his complexities and his inability to sit in an uncomfortable silence, Eddie is able to hold Ani’s anger and provide dignity and care with a touch of humour and humility. To him, she is a person deserving of a life worth living, even if that looks a little different now.
When we meet Jess (Zoe De Plevitz - Boy Swallows Universe), she's in the middle of an interview for the job of carer for John (Daw), a wealthy PhD candidate who lives with cerebral palsy. Thanks to his fully-funded scholarship, John is navigating the freedom of not only living alone for the first time, but also having a choice in the type of care he receives for the first time, too. As he attempts to figure out if Jess can handle the confronting nature of the job, he asks her “how much life she has lived”. A young woman who works back-to-back night shifts at bars just to get by despite her college education, Jess has lived a lot of life. Too much life, you might say. She knows what is ahead of her, or so she thinks.
It’s clear that John’s ability to complete his studies is dependent on the support he receives through his scholarship, despite his existing privileges. As the title suggests, the economics of care is a strong theme, and John’s story illustrates the benefits of tailored disability support. It's hard not to think about the ongoing discussions in Australia around NDIS reform and criticism over its funding (despite delivering a $2.25 return for every dollar spent, contributing $52 billion annually to the Australian economy). However, the need to justify disability care with economic returns highlights a broader issue. By failing to see the long-term value of investment in the NDIS, we also fail to recognise the inherent dignity and humanity of the disabled community.
From the safety of our theatre seats, Cost of Living invites audiences to consider the mental and emotional labour of navigating life as a person with a disability. By steering the focus away from the mechanics of physical assistance and towards moments of genuine human connection, the play disrupts conventional portrayals of disability and care. While the narrative technically centres around Ani and John’s desires for autonomy, it is made abundantly clear that Eddie and Jess are themselves struggling, asking us to steer away from the medical model of disability (what a person cannot do and cannot be) and towards a social model of disability (how a society prevents a person from participating), highlighting the universal nature of vulnerability and the need for support.
Michael Scott-Mitchell’s minimalist stage design, while lacking the grandeur typical of STC productions, effectively prioritises accessibility and allows the actors to remain the focal point. Thoughtful details, such as the spacing between objects and level flooring, highlight the production's commitment to accessibility, and this thoughtfulness extends beyond the stage to the audience – with a space purposely left between the seating and the stage, allowing unobstructed views, ensuring everyone can take in the whole stage comfortably.
The simplistic staging does not encumber dramatic impact; it even amplifies moments of beauty. One such moment is the bath scene – Ani and Eddie emerge from behind brick walls, with Ani positioned in an intricately painted claw-foot bathtub overflowing with glistening bubbles. Operatic music plays, and a single spotlight centres on the pair in a joyous moment of playful laughter. In this precious, even sensual moment, the two are able to let their guards down and get vulnerable as they discuss disabled bodies, intimacy, and care. It’s a stunning moment of theatre.
The chemistry and dynamic between John and Ani is intoxicating, their scenes enriched with a mix of heartbreak, awkwardness, and laughter (thanks largely to Hood's impeccable comedic timing) showing two people with a complex and nuanced history to draw from. Elsewhere, while Jess’s guarded nature is intriguing, her background and motivations remain somewhat elusive, potentially leaving audiences unable to fully grasp her character. Similarly, the development of Jess and John’s relationship is somewhat abrupt, and while we are provided with a multidimensional disabled character (who we do not necessarily need to like) via John, the impact his less-favourable traits have on Jess could be more thoroughly explored.
Cost of Living is not just a play about disabled individuals and their caregivers – it underscores the importance of inclusivity and the impact of systemic barriers, prompting audiences to reflect on their own values. For disabled theatregoers (which includes this reviewer) it provides rare, cathartic, and deeply relatable representation.
Jackman and Daw’s direction brings a nuanced understanding of disability, with people with lived experiences also contributing on and off the stage (each actor is also working with a dedicated assistant off-stage). Aside from simply being a damn good play, this production is a case study of how inclusive theatre *can* be done well amid ongoing discussions about disability rights and support systems.
Other productions on Sydney’s stages make bold claims, touting an empowering feminist reclamation or a revolutionary modern retelling (and arguably, not all of them deliver on these promises). But Cost of Living stands out for its simple yet profound storytelling. It is not trying to be anything more than a really good play – one that just so happens to be about the lives of disabled people, their carers, and a society failing to provide them with the dignity they deserve. And at the end of the day, what’s so revolutionary about including people in telling their own stories?
Cost of Living is playing at Sydney Theatre Co’s Wharf 1 Theatre, Walsh Bay, until August 18. Find out more and book tickets here.
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