sydney

The Pavilion Players have a specialty. And that specialty, very proudly, is murder mysteries. Easy to produce, easy to sell, and easy to follow, they are the classic choice for smaller theatres. Steve Rowe, however, in his production of Joseph Kesselring’s Arsenic and Old Lace takes that tired structure and turns it completely on its head, as well as pulling some of the most interesting performances I’ve seen in recent memory out of Sydney’s community theatre scene.

The production value at The Pavilion tends to be completely off the charts. Clearly this theatre has the stock to use and cash to burn as they create a lush and busy World War Two Americana household. Chris Lundie, Belinda Rowe, Steve Rowe and Mia Rowe have worked as a concentrated team to take us firmly into the world of this play, all the while giving the actors plenty to play with. This is not the minimalist world of inner-city Sydney. Steve Rowe understands the stylistic necessity of Kesselring’s writing, and dutifully follows it. Lighting and sound (James Winters and George Cartledge) , though less glamorous than their on stage crew counterparts, give us an immersive experience that doesn’t distract us from the onstage happenings – although both had brief moments of jumping cues.

The play follows the Brewster family, a lineage of genuine nutjobs as they navigate the territorial struggles of every family, although with slightly higher stakes. It’s this fact, and the moral questions the play quite cleverly asks, that takes this production proudly out of the world of its predecessors. Instead of being a whodunnit, we follow a whohasn’tbloodydunnit, which allows the black comedic aspects and psychological performances the cast is clearly ready and rearing to produce to shine.

And shine they did. Brett Watkins takes the stage as Mortimer Brewster, the closest thing to a protagonist in this show; and yet, Watkins both investigates the comedy and charisma of Mortimer, whilst allowing him to be a quiet but ever present sleazeball in the way he often seems to rally against. Watkins is an excellent performer, a strong physical comedian and an excellent reactor, taking his time on stage to fully explore the thoughts and emotions he works through in every moment. A particular favourite moment in this regard was watching him deal with the mere knowledge of a dead body in the room, and the Uta Hagan-esque almost three minutes of silent panic and exploration of the space Mortimer goes through as he figures out what to do. I was looking for slightly more weight behind some of his lines, especially as the stakes began to rise, but with the comedic tone of the piece, I’m more than happy to forgive it.

Kate Mannix was an utter standout. Delivering a performance that reminded me starkly of Sophie Thompson’s Monica Reed in National Theatre’s Present Laughter, she struck a truly capital balance between understated and sophisticated comedic performance and genuine emotional intelligence on stage. She also perhaps was the most believable performer in her grief and anger, exploring subtler ways to perform them whilst still acknowledging the sheer size of the theatre she’s in. Her ending became wonderfully satisfying in the knowledge that someone so delightful was going to get away with something so horrible. Truly, no notes.

Another stand-out of the night was Thomas Southwell as Jonathan Brewster. Meeting the very lanky, very shy actor in the foyer, and having watched him perform before, one wouldn’t expect Southwell to shine so brightly in such a strong and demanding character role. But Steve Rowe’s masterful direction and the magic of prosthetics utterly transformed Southwell into a grinning, violent, leering super-star of a character actor. Southwell’s vocal work was delicious, quite literally snarling and growling at the other actors on stage with him. His physical work was equally impressive, going from almost a Frankenstein’s Monster-esque lumber to an animalistic explosion of movement as he launched himself around the stage. Proudly embracing his jealous ambition and searing bloodlust, Southwell’s Jonathan created the stakes of the play almost singlehandedly. My advice to him in the foyer still stands here as I write, he should play parts like this for the rest of his life.

Jem Rowe was similarly enjoyable. With a history in character roles, Rowe leaned heavily into the stumbling, Germanic, comedic sidekick to Southwell’s brutality. However, one could easily see this role slipping into something slightly one note. To this, I commend Rowe. His work to keep the character sympathetic through his obvious discomfort in the level of violence being committed contrasting with his sycophantic loyalty to Jonathan combined into something addictively watchable. The two had excellent chemistry on stage, and his work improved in every scene he was in.

Margaret Olive as Martha Brewster was also very charming. Her comedic sensibilities and chemistry with her sister made her very entertaining to watch and root for. Both of the Brewster women were strong in their use of tempo, which made scenes between them very believable and interesting, although I was missing the vocal strength of her sister. Myles Burgin as Teddy Brewster showed an admirable commitment to the role, and had great instincts for slapstick – although his role didn’t allow him to explore much beyond this. Emma Lebeuf as Elaine Harper was very likeable, a strong female character in her own regard. Although I wanted a little more adult seduction from her, her chemistry with Watkins was very clear, and she leant into the style of the play successfully.

The ensemble gave entertaining performances across the board, and populated the room nicely. At times, this began to lean into caricature, but with the style and era, this must be blamed on the script rather than the actors themselves. The performances across the board may have been lifted by a stronger commitment to play to the objective rather than the comedy, and some actors struggled with comedic “traps” or the repetition of a bit to create laughter rather than strictly earn it. However, for what is admittedly a little bit of a weird play, the neuroticism of the family, the performances of the cast, the production value of the crew and the overall chemistry between the entire team makes this show infinitely likeable. The production sits at a strong intersection between inventive and nostalgic, and is a powerful start to the Pavilion Players’ 2026 season.

To book tickets to Arsenic and Old Lace, please visit https://paviliontheatre.org.au/arsenic-and-old-lace/.

Photographer: Chris Lundie

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