The Olga Tokarczuk novel Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead was first published in Polish in 2009 and released in English in 2018, and the existential eco-thriller was quickly shortlisted for the Booker Prize and International Dublin Literary Award.
As in the novel, this adaptation for the stage by Eamon Flack – who also directs – revolves around Janina Duszejko (Pamela Rabe), an older woman who lives alone in a rural, mountainous part of Poland.
When, during a harsh winter, prominent men in the local area start being murdered, nobody but Janina seems to have an answer. The men were all avid hunters and Janina, a vegetarian astrology enthusiast and animal rights proponent, attributes their grisly deaths to the animal kingdom taking its revenge.
Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead review – quick links
A very faithful adaptation
Flack has gone for a fairly faithful adaptation here. This is both a blessing and a curse; perhaps more curse. Blessing, because fans of Tokarczuk’s book need not worry that key aspects of the tale have been butchered for brevity. But this is also the problem.
A novel of several hundred pages cannot be faithfully translated to the stage without being long. Very long. Flack’s Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead is a three-and-a-half hour marathon with two intervals.
Long sections of this play drag on and on, to the point where the audience fidgets and palpably wants to move on. (And this isn’t any old audience – it’s a Belvoir audience. Not exactly the TikTok generation.)
It’s not just that the play is long. To be fair, a protracted theatrical production can be compelling, although it’s rare. In 2024, The Inheritance, directed by Shane Anthony, was staged in Sydney across an incredible 385 minutes. But while it made huge demands of the audience, it rewarded them richly.
Drive Your Plow doesn’t achieve the same balance. It needs a good edit.
Some scenes could be jettisoned entirely without any adverse effect, including a rambling section where Janina, her love interest Bigfoot (Colin Moody) and neighbour Oddball (Bruce Spence) shoot the breeze all night under the stars.
A better approach to this play would be presenting a distillation of the book, rather than ‘everything but the kitchen sink’.
Flashes of brilliance
Still, there are flashes of brilliance here. Many of them are down to Rabe. The grand dame of theatre is perfect as the eccentric outsider with a healthy disregard for patriarchal authority.
The production’s lead actor, she is also its narrator and she is by turns funny, furious, sad and exuberant. This is a role in which she gives full voice to her considerable range.
Particularly powerful is a furious monologue about the plight of animals who are carelessly slaughtered, cooked, or turned into shoes to satisfy the needs of humans. Her rage is tangible, frightening in its intensity.
The ensemble also impresses, especially Spence – in excellent form and fitness here, belying his 80 years– and Moody, who brings a sturdy, dependable bearing to the play.
Inspired staging
The staging, too, is worthy of praise. There’s a series of storms and blizzards; scenes are portrayed across night and day, indoors and outdoors; and through it all the lazy Susan of Belvoir’s rotating stage.
Set designer Romanie Harper has fashioned a versatile set to accommodate it all. The play’s mystical elements are well amplified by Harper’s creative choices, ably supported by the work of costume designer Ella Butler.
Lighting designer Morgan Moroney’s talents for creating mood and atmosphere are also showcased well. The lighting ranges from pitch black (with audiences literally sitting in darkness) to flashes of lightning and bright car headlights shining in our faces.
But for all its positives, a feeling of frustration and tedium too often creeps into this show. Even the ending, where the murderer is revealed, feels more interminable than dramatic.
The decision to have said murderer painstakingly recreate each killing, spelling everything out, robs us of the momentous ending this tale deserves.
There’s a great play somewhere within this bloated theatrical beast. A ruthless edit is needed to find it.
