As the band Twisted Sister once said, “We’re not gonna take it. No, we ain’t gonna take it!” And Welsh playwright Gary Owen’s critically acclaimed monodrama Iphigenia in Splott echoes this sentiment in a brutal piece of class warfare. New Ghosts Theatre Company restages their 2020 production in a gut-punch of a show at the Old Fitz Theatre, led by a captivating Meg Clarke (Measure for Measure, Porpoise Pool). The enduring Greek myth of Iphigenia is reimagined for the modern world, the action unfolding in the Splott district, south of Wales’ capital.
A pre-show lighting state is cast onto the back wall, illuminating a ghostly tiered block stage painted in varying shades of grey, tufts of grass attempting to break their way through in Angela Doherty’s set. Luna Ng’s eclectic lighting design flickers and strobes about the space, casting shadows and blackness before sitting on an open white. We expect a dramatic start, but instead, there’s an uncomfortable emptiness – Lucy Clements’ direction purposefully subverts expectations as our underdog protagonist, Effie (Clarke, who returns from the UK to reprise her solo performance), lazily strolls towards the stage.
Clarke’s performance is electric – she dons a glare that could shatter through glass
It’s the first sign that we are certainly not in for a heightened melodrama – as Effie turns to the audience and questions why we’re here, and what we’re expecting her to do for us. In the original myth, Iphigenia was the daughter of King Agamenon, who was forced to sacrifice her to appease the goddess Artemis and allow the Greek fleet to sail to Troy for the Trojan War. In Splott, the loose adaptation follows the many, many sacrifices that Effie makes – not for herself, but for the lives around her.
But what happens when people like Effie just can’t take it anymore?
Clarke’s performance is electric – she dons a glare that could shatter through glass. Doherty’s costume design sees Effie dressed in a sports tracksuit, sipping on a water bottle as she strolls around the space, as familiar with it as the neighbourhood street she lives on in Cardiff. Her life is a mess of drinking, drugs, and drama; she brags that her hangovers kill off half her week.
We learn of her half-hearted relationship with a loveably dim-witted local gym junkie (who skips leg day); her elderly Nan, who leaves out spare cash to help her to get by; and her best friend and housemate. It’s not until a fateful night of partying that a chance encounter exposes Effie to the possibility of something more, a chance at being seen for more than the rough and tumble exterior she uses to protect her existence. Perhaps, she doesn’t need to feel so alone anymore.
Much like the myth of Sisyphus, Effie lives in a cycle of despair, her boulder being her marginalised existence in her impoverished community. It’s here the play meanders into territory of monotony, as exposition threatens to keep the piece one note – even with Clarke solidifying Effie’s strong Welsh accent, rough exterior, and the foul mouth she uses to survive.
However, once Owen’s plot starts moving, that boulder-sized challenge quickly races down the mountain at a thrilling pace – the audience reacting with laughter, shocks, and gasps; and Clarke holding them in the palm of her hand as Effie transforms from “the kind of girl you’d avoid eye contact with” to an endearing character to follow. Clarke commands the space – strolling in close proximity to the audience, then as far away as possible, immersing herself completely in Effie’s world, before closing that gap to make direct eye contact with each person seated.
Clements also makes effective use of the space, which is an area where one-person plays commonly struggle – you can often either see productions attempt to do too much, or opting to keep things as simplistic as possible (like the original Fleabag, which sees the performer perched on a solitary chair). In collaboration with Ng’s lighting and Chrysoulla Markoulli’s sound design, we’re transported into each scene clearly and efficiently, whether that be a raging nightclub, or the packed ward of a hospital.
Owen’s writing makes use of the modern tragedy as a framework to craft a warcry for the marginalised, the downtrodden, the backbone of society who are forced to do the backbreaking work that only really benefits the one per cent. Throughout, we see Effie take on everything thrown upon her by her circumstances. This women-led production forces the audience to take a look at ourselves, and offers a reminder to acknowledge the oppression outside the theatre’s very doors.
With a federal election imminent, and the Trump playbook being adapted on our very shores by those on the voting ballot, Owens’ warcry is an important reminder as we decide who we’re handing over the running of our country to for the foreseeable future. The modern promise is that of equal opportunities – in a country that acknowledges unions, gender pay gaps, and stolen land. Effie’s story reminds us that perhaps it's time that debt comes due.
Iphigenia in Splott is playing at Old Fitz Theatre, Woolloomooloo, until March 22. Tickets are on sale over here.
[Time Out tip: make a night of it! The Time Out Recommended Old Fitz Theatre is Australia's last-standing pub theatre. You'll find it downstairs at the Old Fitzroy Hotel, which is a top spot for a pre-show dinner, as well as post-show debriefs over a pint. You can also double-dip with the Old Fitz' late night show, Love by Patricia Cornelius.]
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