David Williamson’s The Removalists premiered at La Mama in 1971; it was turned into a film in 1975 and had several other productions nationally and internationally. The success of the play is the way in which it braids humour and violence in a way that leaves you laughing one moment, then gasping in disquiet the next.
The first thing that needs to be pointed out is the stage setting. Unusually for a Melbourne Theatre Company (MTC) production there are on-stage seats set aside (around 48) for audience members if so requested – all the better to view the action up close, but also ostensibly as a nod to its debut at La Mama’s cosy headquarters. It should be noted, however, that, being plastic moulded, they’d be less comfortable than the usual seating for the rest of the audience. As the play is two hours sans interval, you’d have to consider whether you’d want to sacrifice comfort for proximity.
Interestingly, director Anne-Louise Sarks has chosen to eschew any modern updates, preferring to honour the original 70s aesthetic, so this production feels like a time capsule, complete with tappity typewriters, rotary dial phones and drawn-out Strine vernacular.
Set in Melbourne over the course of an evening, the play begins in a police station with the banter between new recruit Constable Ross (William McKenna) and old hand Sergeant Simmonds (Steve Mouzakis) disrupted when two sisters Kate (Jessica Clarke) and Fiona (Eloise Mignon) report a domestic abuse situation. Fiona’s husband Kenny (Michael Whalley) has been assaulting her. The cops promise to help Kate to move her furniture out, but first there’s an almost salacious viewing of her bruises to be documented and an undercurrent of transactional favours.
As Simmonds, Mouzakis struts about like a rooster, hardbitten and wily. Earlier on, when he imparts such wisdoms to his young charge as “Stuff the rule book up your arse”, there’s a foreshadowing to how The Removalists will play out. It’s he who’s the source of power, not the actual law and he revels in the authoritarianism conferred by his badge and superior status.
Mouzakis oozes machismo and is the perfect foil to 20-year-old Ross, straight out of police college and very much looking like a schoolboy in his shorts and long socks. McKenna is equally here impressive as the anxious and callow P-plater while the two women mirror the power dynamics of the men. As Kate, Clarke is hesitant and awkward, while as her sister Fiona, Mignon is confident and moves with the assurance of someone used to getting her own way. However, the two women are not as roundly sketched as the men, their existence acts more as catalysts.
With a quick set change, the second scene is in Kate’s living room, and the arrival of both the removalist and Kenny turbo-charges the drama. Kenny is as obnoxious as you’d expect, brutal, boorish and profane. Whalley settles into the role quickly and is fully believable as an unreconstructed ocker male, fuming at being mistreated in his own castle. Like meets like though when he encounters Simmonds, setting in train a series of altercations that become almost farcical in their increasing violence and may even shift sympathies when the perpetrator becomes victim.
While Simmonds prides himself in his ability to be in control at all times, Ross portrays what happens when nervousness and inexperience devolve into wild impetuousness – though the transition is perhaps so abrupt that it strains credence. That there’s a fight director included in the creative team speaks volumes.
In the writer’s notes provided by the MTC, Williamson says his play is a warning “of what could all too easily happen when three men with deeply competitive but fragile egos [find] those egos threatened”.
Meanwhile, the removalist (Martin Blum) is an inspired addition to the cast. The play could have been called The Observer because essentially that’s what he is. Blum is drily hilarious in his delivery (the role was originally played by the playwright). He’s an Everyman, the Aussie larrikin on the sidelines, passive and non-committal. He just wants to do his job and move onto the next engagement. He’s a witness to the various acts of brutality being meted, out but he does not intervene. “Sorry mate. I’ve got a pretty simple philosophy. If there’s work I work, if nobody interferes with me then I interfere with nobody.” It’s this moral cowardice that ensures violence continues.
This indifference to the suffering of others is hard to watch, but also raises the uncomfortable realisation that, for the sake of self-preservation, many of us would rather abstain from interfering than become involved. Are we then complicit in the condoning of crime and misdemeanours?
Read: Book review: What’s the Big Idea?, Anna Chang and Alice Grundy (editors)
Indeed, The Removalists isn’t simply a critique of police brutality and corruption – although there’s plenty of that – but a more general grappling with domestic abuse, misogyny and power manipulation, topical issues ensuring that Williamson’s script remains as relevant as ever, even now over 50 years later. Kudos to the cast and creative teams for reviving a classic work that’s lost none of its bloody, fist-to-the-face urgency.
The Removalists by David Williamson
Director: Anne-Louise Sarks
Set Designer: Dale Ferguson
Costume Designer: Matilda Woodroofe
Lighting Designer: Niklas Pajanti
Composer and Sound Designer: Marco Cher-Gibard
Fight Director: Nigel Poulton
Intimacy Coordinator: Amy Cater
Assistant Director: Liv Satchell
Cast: Martin Blum, Jessica Clarke, William McKenna, Eloise Mignon, Michael Whalley, Steve Mouzakis
The Removalists will be performed until 17 April 2025.
