First seen in Adelaide in 1960, Alan Seymour’s landmark Australian play here gets a thrillingly topical revival. Its skill lies in the way it uses Anzac Day, which commemorates the Gallipoli campaign of 1915, to explore generational and class conflicts in a changing Australia. Seymour’s focus is on one particular family who become a microcosm of wider social tensions. Alf is a working-class, Pom-hating veteran of the second world war for whom Anzac Day is both an excuse for boozy camaraderie and a chance to compensate for the disappointments of civilian life. When his son, Hughie, refuses to attend the annual parade and reveals he is working on an anti-Anzac feature for his student newspaper with upper-class girlfriend, Jan, the proverbial excrement hits the fan.
But what is good about Seymour’s play is that it is fair to both sides of the argument. Alf’s bigotry is offset by a sense of betrayal, while Hughie combines youthful arrogance with a rational critique of the Gallipoli campaign as a military disaster. Only the final scenes strike a false note.
Wayne Harrison’s excellent production makes up for that with the quality of its performances. Mark Little shows the vulnerability behind Alf’s bullying bluster, while James William Wright is all hot-headed intemperance as Hughie. With strong support from Fiona Press as Alf’s long-suffering wife, Adele Querol as the poshly rebellious Jan, and Paul Haley as a taciturn Gallipoli survivor, this is a play that both probes a national wound and raises larger questions about the ritualistic nature of acts of remembrance.
• At Finborough theatre, London, until 13 June. Box office: 0844 847 1652.
