Julia – REVIEW
Image: Justine Clarke in JULIA. Photo: Prudence Upton
When Prime Minister Julia Gillard gave her misogyny speech in parliament in 2012, she had the entire chamber transfixed. So too, does Justine Clarke have the auditorium in her thrall, not just during her delivery of that same speech, but throughout her solo performance in Julia.
Clarke is mesmerising on stage, using every physical tool she owns – voice, facial expression, gestures, body. Watching the ballet-like movement of her hands is captivating. Playwright, Joanna Murray-Smith was justifiably thrilled to have snagged Clarke for a role that demands a great deal of insight, empathy, and intelligence as well as first class acting chops.
Clarke has it all in spades.
Murray-Smith confesses to having initially been ambivalent regarding the commission to write on a play on Julia Gillard. The ex-PM was not someone who’d ever really interested Murray-Smith. But after some rudimentary research, she became intrigued, then impassioned – and it shows.
The play is a loose memoir, told by Clarke alternately as Gillard and as other people in Gillard’s life: her father and mother (whose Welsh accents are a delight); a teacher, and some of the vile men whom she had to endure including Alan Jones and Tony Abbott.
Clarke slides seamlessly from one persona to another, absolutely nailing the idiosyncrasies and voices. In one scene, she slowly transforms her expression into the Cheshire cat grin of Tony Abbott, so convincing it garners applause.
Equally, Clarke’s imitation of Gillard’s unmistakable vocal intonation is spot on without being parody.
Murray-Smith’s script is a mixture of unfiltered thought bubbles, sabre-edged humour, and poetic soliloquy. Clarke handles it all like a virtuoso solo musician playing the diverse movements of a complex work; major to minor, fast, slow, march, waltz.
She lands the brilliant one-liners so perfectly, if the performance had been filmed they’d have become instant viral memes.
Sarah Goodes has directed previous plays by Murray-Smith and so inherently understands the mood and intention of Julia. Using a bare stage surrounded by mirrored walls, she allows Murray-Smith’s rich, layered text to fill the space. Occasional small props are delivered on stage by Jessica Bentley who also spends time floating in and around scenes, being a sort of spiritual alter ego.
Sound designer, Steve Francis, underscores poignant moments with a filmic sound bed, while punctuating more boisterous scenes with pop tunes that instantly signify a time and place.
Naturally, the text cannot help but be left-leaning. It does tend towards homage, although, given the treatment Julia Gillard received during her PMship, it probably just tips the scales back to even.
Murray-Smith does mention some of the less admirable decisions made by Gillard during her leadership, but overall Julia is a tribute to a woman who managed to handle herself with dignity among a rabble of undignified dickheads.
