No BAD Theatre Co. have got a great team together for this show, with the welcomes beginning as you come up the stairs. A heartfelt intro from BAFTA award-winning writer and director Mike Bullen put us all in good spirits and ready to go.
The programme is presented as a service of thanksgiving and celebration for Francis “Frank” Whitby, which is a delightful bit of scene-setting before you even take your seat. Maggie Bullen’s set design, with its drawn background and home decor with hospital additions, is perfect for the Mona Vale Performance Space. The stage limitations have been used as an opportunity to be creative, and it works beautifully with the breaking of the fourth wall that occurs throughout the play.
Willow Salgo leads the light and sound design with real competence and imagination, supported by Thomas Van Der Plaat, Tully Poppleton and Sophie Elliott. I’ve had the pleasure of working with Willow and Thomas at Northern Beaches Youth Theatre, so it was a particular delight to see the whole team at work here. The lighting choices are notably clever throughout; the follow spot on Frank as he almost enters the audience is a highlight, drawing us into his perspective in a way that feels both playful and intimate.
We establish that Frank, played by Julian Pulvermacher, is in a coma since his second stroke, and his nurse has called his four children to say their goodbyes. Magda, played by Ewa Sliter Vel Szreter, is caring and attentive to Frank’s needs; sweet in her care of him but firm enough to hold her ground when his children arrive and start jostling for position.
Raelee Hill plays eldest child Jan, who describes herself as the “middle-aged spinster condemned to live at home.” Hill navigates the many layers of this character with remarkable nuance; at first doting, dutiful and pious, then bitter and sharp, and later vulnerable and regretful. Her understated choices consistently draw deeper responses from both the cast and the audience. It is a sophisticated execution of character work.
Youngest brother Carl, played by Milan Pulvermacher, initially presents as abrasive, with Nicole (Cassandra Magrath) gracefully presenting as passive and placatory. As we discover that Carl is struggling with his mental health and career, Milan plays this shift physically; hands in pockets, eyes downcast, the initial bluster deflating. Older brother Larry, played by Chris Sadrinna, then steals the air from the room with his big presence and complete lack of filter. Chris is quick with timing and reactions and finds a naturalism in a character that could easily have been over-exaggerated.
Youngest daughter Meg returns from LA as the most earnest and loving of the siblings. Gillian Alexy plays the emotional depth of this character with a gentleness and vulnerability that makes Frank’s self-confessed favouritism entirely understandable. Nathan, played by Patrick James, arrives as Meg’s gay ex-husband, now an architect liaising with Larry over the house. His character is a comedic injection, but his arc allows him to display some emotional depth as the play comes towards it’s close.
Frank breaks the fourth wall throughout to weave past and present together, filling in gaps and offering a peek behind the curtain at each of his children. Julian Pulvermacher carries this narrative device with ease, making Frank the warm, wry centre around which all the chaos spins.
The comedy is in the irresistible return of these adult siblings to their childhood roles and the question that keeps surfacing: what actually holds a family together when the person at the centre is slipping away? It is a play that asks what really matters in the end, and it asks it with both heart and real wit.
It is wonderful to see No BAD Theatre Co. joining the vibrant community theatre scene on Sydney’s Northern Beaches. Another fabulous work from Mike Bullen, and a genuinely impressive debut for a company with a lot to offer.
Photography: Munnerz Photography
Insta handle: @munnerz_photography
To book tickets to The Waiting Room, please visit https://www.nobadtheatre.org/.