For Some Serious R & R

Richard Wherrett


It is my pleasure to deliver the fourth Philip Parsons Memorial Lecture.

My purpose here is to argue the case for Research and Risk-taking in our theatre ahead of Rest and Recreational theatre. Ahead of 'comfortable' theatre. A few weeks ago one of my colleagues at a similar forum argued a similar theme. I don't intend here to Mount Koskyosko - I agreed with a great deal he said.

But - where did it all begin?

Let me begin with an overview - what's happened since 1975?

I was thrilled that Australia's Brian Thomson and Roger Kirk won Broadway Tony Awards for set and costume designs this year; I was deeply disappointed that these gold medal achievements were not acknowledged with a ticker tape parade.

It is tremendously significant that audiences for the performing arts generally, and theatre in particular, have continued increasing in huge numbers over the last twenty years, it is in fact critically significant because these numbers have helped close the gap between income and expenditure that in real terms decreasing subsidy has regrettably widened.

I am not convinced that it is yet accepted that the high arts need patronage before they might become commercial, and that a de Medici or Rockefeller, in the form of government, must help foot the bill. The high arts are labour-intensive, but are not an 'industry'. On this one Mr Keating got it wrong, as Katharine Brisbane clarified here three years ago.

It is wonderful that Melbourne has brilliantly refurbished the Princess, the Regent and the Forum theatres to complement the superb Playhouse and the charming Comedy and Athenaeum theatres; it is appalling that Sydney cannot claim one first-rate drama theatre. Promises! Promises!

It is exciting that we now have a healthy number of regional theatres and a diversity within the capital cities; that there is, even if under threat, a large quota of Australian content on television; and that we have a thriving film industry. It is extremely depressing that wages for most theatre workers, and actors most of all, in all media, remain so low and in many instances are going backwards, as John Derum lamented here one year ago.

It is gratifying that politicians are in most cases acknowledging the importance of the arts to a civilised society as reflected in the tendency for Premiers frequently, and Prime Ministers occasionally, to take on the portfolios themselves, as opposed to the days they were relegated to an ignoramus in the outer ministry; it is ridiculous that in budget cutting times an exception can't be made for the relatively tiny portion of it that the arts gets.

I applaud the new streamlined procedures for applications for grants to the Australia Council; I regret they're not tougher. No grants under 30 I say. As simple and clear as that. And on the same grounds I deeply regret a proposal to replace the Creative Fellowships with Emerging Artists Fellowships. There are so many emerged artists out there, who perhaps now should not have to wait tables or clean houses, who have been subsidising the arts all their lives. Give me a break! Give them a break. And I hope the new Registrar of Peers allows for the inclusion of any and all kinds of people knowledgable in the theatre such as publishers, festival directors, or even ex-Australia Council project officers.

I think it's absurd that there is an increasing tendency away from the practice of appointing artists as Chief Executives, as was a condition of the appointment to the Director of the Sydney Theatre Company in 1979, and towards image-conscious, market-driven MBA-trained financial administrators. General managers have to have a product to manage and artists can be financially astute and responsible.

It's great that we now get quite extensive coverage in the press and, even if under threat, in the electronic media. But we need more tough investigative journalism which could press us practitioners to tougher choices, as Wayne Harrison pleaded here two years ago. I'm sick of reading reports from strident artistic directors or general managers which jubilantly declare 'box office targets are met' without a declaration on the expenditure budget. One is meaningless without the other.

And it is most of all thrilling that the last 20 years have seen the growth of a strong Australian dramatic literary heritage, as reflected in an audience hungry for Australian works, Australian works being set for study in schools, and publication of a great number of Australian works spearheaded by Currency Press; it is alarming that this has been achieved at serious costs. It is to this last dichotomy that I give my attention this evening.

So let me narrow my field of vision a little.

It is my pleasure to deliver the fourth Philip Parsons Memorial Lecture because Philip had a significant impact on my thinking about drama and theatre, particularly theatre in Australia. In two particular ways: first, he helped me understand the need for and the value of quality dramaturgical input. In late 1975 I was using Philip as dramaturg for my production of Richard III for Nimrod Theatre. On one extraordinary day - the 11th of the 11th in fact, and probably around 11am - our rehearsal for an 'off with his head' scene on stage was interrupted by an 'off with his head' scene off stage. 'Gough's been sacked,' the messenger hysterically reported. The rehearsal dribbled to a miserable close - after all, at that time Nimrod was being very handsomely subsidised by Gough's revamped Australia Council. I was having difficulty making the scene work where Richard is testing the people's reactions to the prospect of him becoming king. The text made it clear that, by and large, they hated the idea. My trouble was I had no people, no crowd. A cast trimmed to its essence precluded any left-overs for resentful London masses. Philip urged me to consider using the audience as crowd, as would have been the case at the Globe in 1600. 'I'm quite sure,' he said, 'that the politeness and embarrassment of your middle-class audience when confronted by a raging John Bell as Richard will baulk at any response whatsoever'. At the first preview when we got to that scene, the house lights came up and Richard, protesting too much, humbled himself before the audience with:

Alas, why would you heap this care on me? I am unfit for state and majesty.

The frozen silent horror at being asked to participate by refuting this truth was of course exactly the reaction required, sending Richard in to an apoplectic fury. It worked like a dream. Thank you Philip.

Some eight years later at the Sydney Theatre Company I proposed to Wayne Harrison, then employed as my Literary Advisor, that we rename his position 'Dramaturg'. The title 'advisor' did not accurately reflect the position as I wanted it, which was not only to advise on the best new plays, both locally and internationally available. I wanted him also to scour the classic repertoire in pursuit of those works which could speak to us most relevantly, here and now. (If only I'd done Richard III in 1975 suits!). And in turn I wanted the position via the research involved to contribute equally, along with director and designer, to the concept and line of the production, to its direction. It was the contemporary German, and indeed European, model of literary advice I had in mind, based on my belief that the best theatre in the world in the mid-'80s was happening in Europe - the Stein's in Berlin, the Chereau's in Paris, the Stroehler's in Milan et al. It seemed therefore that the German term for the position should be used. And so we did. Initially our move was received, particularly by newspaper critics, with howls of derision, primarily based on our pretension. Well, the rest is history. In just ten years the term, and for a while the position, of dramaturg entered theatre parlance at all levels.

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