It took until 2013 for gay marriage laws to pass in England. Although it may feel like we’ve made strides towards change, in a lot of ways, queerness had a bright, shining five to seven years in the sun before it began to slide backwards again in modern politics. Es & Flo is a little bit about this – and why marriage is such an essential part of the fight – but it’s also mostly about the complexity of lifelong relationships, and the intimate sense of loss and betrayal we feel when someone we love begins to slip through our fingers.
Emma Canalese has set this show in the warm and familiar home it deserves, one yellowed by years of adoration and care. One that the characters on stage are also deeply familiar with. Such, the threat of losing the home and those inside it becomes all the more raw and uncomfortable. As the piece progresses, the sense of belonging we feel in this quiet home becomes more and more disturbed – video and audio of protests and conversations merging in a way that creates a cacophony that we’re both threatened by, and desperately want to understand.
Annie Bryon delivers something that truly hits close to home with Esme. Maybe it’s the unending patience and devotion to the childlike wonder of Kasia, or maybe it’s the disquieting hysteria of an older person’s confusion. Either way, it’s difficult not to think of some of ours in our own lives. Bryon evolved spectacularly in the second half, particularly in the more subtly brutal moments. Fay Du Chateau in return gives us something quieter, smarter, but nevertheless slipping into a panic she can’t understand either, as the stability of her entire world begins to fall apart. Her physicality in gesture, and her willingness to play in the discomfort of the piece makes her performance really something special. Charlotte Salusinszky as Biata is a lovely empathetic,\ but realistic edge, bouncing off of Chateau in a way that humanizes and deepens both of them. Erika Ndibe brings a whimsicality that lifts the piece to its feet in a way it often needs, along with providing the quiet tragedy of not understanding why Es and Flo aren’t allowed to be open in their love for each other. Eloise Snape provides some truly impressive comedic work, and toes the line of insufferable and sympathetic with true finesse.
In a piece centered around relationships, it is only natural that this is where the production shines. All the cast have undeniable chemistry with one another, and their bonding allows the piece to focus the audience into the heartache of the micro of a dementia patient, and the macro of internalised homophobia. There are some brief blips of conviction and blocking, but in a piece as intimate as this one, where it almost feels like we’re voyeuristically spying into someone’s living room, these odd moments smooth over for the most part.
Familiar, and unforgivable, sympathetic, and pathetic; Es & Flo walks the tight-rope of a shame and desperation we as a modern queer collective feel off put attaching ourselves to, whilst demanding that we understand why. As the curtains close, I can say I was reminded all too honestly of the path forwards – especially as those who fought for our freedom begin to age out.
To book tickets to Es & Flo, please visit https://www.oldfitztheatre.com.au/es-flo.
Photographer: Robert Catto
