Review: POV at The Space Theatre

Review by Lisa Lanzi

A low-fi performance (not a criticism!) with a sense of immediacy that takes on mental illness as a subject, but by way of non-linear, indirect pathways, at least to begin with.  Three humans on stage with some technology, a minimal set, a dash of audience participation, and wry humour which evolves into darker territory.

re:group performance collective (Mark Rogers, Solomon Thomas, Malcolm Whittaker, Steve Wilson-Alexander and Carly Young) comprises a group of friends based between Sydney and Wollongong NSW. They make work together as and when they can, on a project-by-project basis.  They have garnered support and acclaim for many of their collaborations that are “inspired by the highs and lows of pop culture”.  The aim is to work as an ensemble on “live cinema” and “to turn the typically comfortable and passive movie-going experience into something immersive, irreverent, sweaty and live”.

POV has already had quite a journey already: Perth Festival (2026), and Belvoir St Theatre (2024), and in 2025, RISING, Heartland Festival (National Theatre of Parramatta), Bondi Festival, New Annual Festival (Newcastle Museum).  As part of Adelaide Festival, the work is staged in one of my favourite theatres, The Space.

Yuna Ahn, who alternates in the lead role with Grace Tione, is a confident and articulate young person who in character as ‘Bub’ gets to order (direct) a duo of unrehearsed actors around.  On opening night, the duo was James Smith and Hew Parham; the POV creators have gathered an impressive collection of South Australian actors for the season in addition to the above: Chris Asimos, Emma Beech, Tilda Cobham-Hervey, Matt Crook, Elizabeth Hay, Ashton Malcolm, Renato Musolino, Astrid Pill, Ellen Steele, and Stephen Tongan.  The ‘show’ will be unique each session of the Festival run.

As a full house inhabits the auditorium, the two actors are already seated on stage, mic’d up and willing, with only scant information on what they will be doing in front of said audience.  The minimal surroundings (plastic chairs, a camera dolly track, tall tripod, DSLR camera, video screens, black back wall, one door, plus eventually an inflatable matrress) don’t give much away.  Soon, a beaming Yuna Ahn enters to gleefully explain some of what is about to unfold as well as identifying which indigenous area they all hail from.  She introduces Laura her ‘chaperone’ (visibly seated side of the open stage) and has Smith read from Live Performance Australia’s Guidelines for Child Safety while Parham is asked to read from Stanislavski's An Actor Prepares.  This naturally provokes much laughter as we all know neither actor has much of a clue about the work they are there to perform.

Ahn continues to lead proceedings and explains the setup for the audience, advises the two adult actors which characters they will adopt, and has them repeat a number of lines while trying out various facial expressions, dance moves, and phrases that ‘mum’ or ‘dad’ will have to manifest for the next hour and a bit.  

As scenes unfold, more and more information surfaces: eleven-year old Bub talks about a place she goes to when her parents “are being loud”; the pre-teen wants to film a documentary and constantly points a camera at her parents while the many video monitors play the footage; mum and dad display a different relationship when their daughter is not around; Bub pens letters to Werner Hertzog about her difficulties around the documentary process, and receives answers – unless… perhaps those letters are actually from her father?.  The two adult actors are fed lines via printed scripts handed to them, or via headphones, or by reading from the monitors.  The presence of all the technology is inherent, seamless, and impressive but never intrusive – although perhaps that says much about our society’s acceptance of such in our lives now.  

This play/film/live studio experiment has some relevance for re:group’s Solomon Thomas whose mother lived with bi-polar disorder.  They state that none of what ensues in POV is history or family truth, but more a broad sense of how a child might navigate such large concepts.  One of the scenes interprets how to explain mental illness to a young person, and it is revealed that one piece of preparatory advice the actor received was to ascertain at least a part of what bi-polar disorder entails.

I found the style of the work interesting and appreciated how it grew through humour to explore more serious notes.  Some images and moods generated by camera angles or lighting plus soundscape are quite disturbing and I read that at one performance of the work, an actor called a stop when emotions loomed too strongly, decided to leave the stage then was replaced so that the play might continue.  It is fascinating to me that the casual, familiar, relaxed manner of improvisation and artifice was built upon to ultimately render such emotional turning points.  Of course, much of this is due to the talents of the performers who remained open to possibility as well as immersed, mindful, and engaged.  

For me, another feature of POV is an initial sense of the subject being ‘once removed’.  The reveal is intimated and gradual which temporarily takes the sting out of a serious subject; it reflected the way that living with a mental illness can isolate a person from reality, yet at another point, plunge you into hyper-reality.

This was a daring and very different Festival programming choice, and at first I wasn’t sure it was a truly Festival-worthy offering.  On further reflection, risk-taking is exactly what is needed in the performing arts of the twenty-first century.

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