You’ve seen headlines ripped straight from the world of this Nick Enright’s Blackrock. Stories of masculinity in violent crisis. Stories of economic divides pushing apart people who should stand together to support each other. Stories of female rape victims and witnesses being silenced by the communities that claim to protect them. An almost thirty-year-old play that explores issues as malleable and complex as gender, class and sexual violence should not be as relevant today as it was at the time, but it is. The fact that Lunatix Theatre’s production (directed by Grace Mclaughlin and Maddie Richards) resonated as strongly as it did is a credit not just to the writing but to the cast, director and designers involved.
Blackrock takes place in a small beach town of the same name, home to many working-class teenagers and their families. One night, a drunken birthday party ends in the gruesome death of a young girl, as she is found with her head smashed in by a rock after having been raped by three boys. Most of the story examines the fallout of this tragedy, with a young man named Jared (Flecther Von Arx) finding himself torn between loyalty to his ‘mates’; supporting his outraged girlfriend, Rachel (Sabrina Rault), whose brother is implicated in the crime; and coming to terms with his own place in the town.
While Jared is the main character, this play relies heavily on its ensemble cast, and the rapport, skill and energy across the board create scenes that feel greater than the sum of their actors. The dialogue itself feels age-appropriate without being cringey, and the actors bring it to life perfectly. Von Arx’s Jared is vulnerable and sympathetic for all his flaws, Rault’s performance as Rachel creates a strong likeable moral anchor, and Jared’s best friend, Ricko (played by Bailey Griffiths), has some of the most harrowing moments in the show, demonstrating the mundane horror of a mind that warps the rape and murder of a teenage girl into something that “just happened”.
This isn’t to downplay the rest of the ensemble, who all give amazing performances, especially in their physicality. The banter between the boys feels palpably uneasy even before tragedy strikes, due to the constant but subtle strutting, chest puffing and matey arm touches – casual ‘violence’ that foreshadows the real physical threat almost every male character in the play poses at some point. The actors also aren’t afraid to talk over each other, commit to physically uncomfortable scenes when necessary, and be extremely vulnerable overall. There is a great sense of trust and maturity, which is essential for navigating material this heavy.
The world of Blackrock is fleshed out further through design, with surfboards and wood panelling rightly marking the beach as the centre of the action, and consistent costume changes giving a strong sense of time passing, which is essential to strike home the long-term damage done to this community. There are some beautiful moments where lighting is used to create a sense of place, such as a blue spotlight giving the impression of the edge of a dock by the ocean. The only snag was the reliance on blackouts for major scene transitions, which sometimes killed the energetic pacing set by the cast.
This may be a difficult show for some to engage with. Most of the characters say or do heinous things, and yet we are invited to at least understand even the most warped perspectives. The mechanisms of denial, blame and desensitisation that kick in when people can’t face the truth are put on naked, ugly display. Still, whether you think you can step into Blackrock or not, keep an eye out for Lunatix’s future work. They created an experience that was deeply uncomfortable, deeply sad, and in desperate need of being seen.
To book tickets to Blackrock, please visit https://lunatixtheatre.wixsite.com/lunatixtheatre.
Photographer: Maddie Richards
