Written by Daniel Cottier. Directed by Benjamin Brockman
A stunning debut play, ‘Occasional Combustible Disaster’ sits perfectly in the modern Australian zeitgeist, feeling familiar yet wholly original
Reviewed by Justin ClarkenThe Loading Dock, Qtopia SydneynUntil 10th August, 2024nTickets: https://events.humanitix.com/occasional-combustible-disaster-live-at-the-loading-dock
In the years since 2020, the scent of smoke in the air has shifted in the collective minds of those who experienced first-hand the bushfires that tore their way along the eastern coasts of Australia. Occasional Combustible Disaster takes the motif of fire and flame, transforming the notion of trauma and acceptance, and crafts a slowly burning fuse of tension within a beautifully crafted piece of storytelling.
Written by Daniel Cottier (Yeah/Yes Audio Series turned novel), this debut play feels authentic and poignant, sitting wonderfully inside the space of Qtopia Sydney. Under director and lighting designer Benjamin Brockman’s guidance, Occasional Combustible Disaster burns with a tension that eventually comes to a gripping breaking point to raise discussions on gender identity, mental health and the imbedded societal dysfunctions of a stereotypical nuclear family.
Occasional Combustible Disaster (2024). Images by Images by Phil Erbacher
Freddy Ambit (Nicholas Cradock) is on the cusp of turning eighteen and has spent the last two years slowly decaying in isolation within the confines of his family’s mid-coast home outside of Newcastle. In just a few short days, all the studying for his HSC examinations will be over and Freddy’s long gestating decision must come to a head: will he turn himself in to the police before he is a legal adult, or live with a guilty heart as he harbours a deadly secret?
Amidst this decision we see heated arguments between his parents Beth (Hester van der Vyver) and Jim (Richard Hillair), as well as the surprising return of Freddy’s now non-binary sibling Liv (Nyx Calder) from their time abroad, bringing with them an unspoken tension between mother and child.
Paris Bell’s set design is immaculately dressed, situating us within the family home. Its eccentricities are familiar to any Australia who grew up in a country town, or at least a home far away from the gentrified beaches of the Sydney suburbs. A white Fisher and Paykel fridge is adorned with magnets, party invitations and newspaper clippings, whilst the kitchen bench houses vegemite and an assortment of mismatched cutlery and tableware. Along the edges of the set sits dried grass that gives off an air of danger as discussions of a fire that ripped through the town two years ago take place. It’s oddly spacious yet confined at the same time.
Cottier takes a match to the stereotypical nuclear family, exposing its weaknesses in a contemporary society to reveal the ugly truths that lie beneath.
Cottier’s text is filled with Australianisms that reflect the blue-collar characters that sit comfortably in the vernacular of the piece itself. It feels right at home in the literary Australiana of other texts in its category yet feels inherently original. Cottier’s motif of fire and flame takes shape in the dressings of the set (Fireball Whiskey sits hidden behind a fire extinguisher atop the fridge) through to the fiery exchanges of Freddy’s parents, and the lit fuse that echoes around Freddy’s mind as he counts down to his eighteenth birthday. It helps keep a fixed point in which we follow the journey of the plot and allows the audience to divert as the characters do to other hot topic conversations on gender politics and strained marriages.
Brockman’s lighting design is never overbearing, yet simple enough to paint the set in whites, blues and, when needed, flickering reds and oranges. Brockman’s direction conjures a realism needed to make us invested in this family as Cottier takes a match to the stereotypical nuclear family, exposing its weaknesses in a contemporary society to reveal the ugly truths that lie beneath. Societal pressure when it comes to Australia’s drinking culture, ingrained gender stereotypes, parental expectations of a 20th century life path, all of it is put under the spotlight.
Cradock’s Freddy is superbly performed as he journeys through the crushing weight of guilt in a teenager’s mind. Freddy’s eventual breaking point allows a stunningly raw performance by Cradock amidst stuttering, shaking physicality and flying spit that halts the show in its path and explodes simultaneously.
David Williamson this is not, and that’s what makes it all the more worthwhile.
Vyver and Hillair expose their character’s flaws as they represent the larger norms of a nuclear family in a quickly changing society. Beth’s struggle with Liv’s newly arrived shape and identity is played well by Vyver, speaking to the wider conversation that siblings and parents have in the crossing of generational bridges.
Meanwhile, Calder’s Liv never feels at ease within the play itself, which indeed speaks to their characters’ inability to wholly fit into the town they’ve outgrown in their new self. Their story is a contemporised take on what could have simply been discussions of queerness and sexual identity, instead replaced with a more topical conversation on gender identity in a nuclear family setting.
Occasional Combustible Disaster is a stunning debut play that is both original, exciting and topical all at the same time. It sparks wider conversations surrounding mental health, the stereotypical family unit, and what nuclear families look like in today’s world. David Williamson this is not, and that’s what makes it all the more worthwhile.
Crew:
Producer / Writer: Daniel Cottier
Producer: Andy Johnston
Director / Lighting Designer: Benjamin Brockman
Costume Designer: Rita Naidu
Set Designer: Paris Bell
Sound Designer: Beau Esposito
Stage Manager: Alexandria Vidler
Cast:
Nicholas Cradock – Freddy
Nyx Calder – Liv
Hester van der Vyver – Beth
Richard Hillair – Jim
Presented by: Daniel Cottier Productions and Dandy
Developed with assistance from Riverside’s National Theatre of Parramatta.
Trigger warnings: Coarse Language, Self HarmIf anything in the production causes concern for you, please contact Lifeline on 13 11 14.
