Written & Directed by Ryan Hay
Composition & Musical Direction by Lavie Rabinovitz
Design by Danielle Connally
“Choose your favourite sexual abuse paintings”, this is a quotation from the website Fine Art America. Wanton Theatre Co presents A Crown of Laurels, an adaptation of Apollo & Daphne, of which the attempted rape of a Greecian nymph by God Apollo is the subject.
Daphne wants to have fun; she’s been planning this evening for months now. Finally, her sisters and friends are all together and about to get leathered. The night doesn’t go to plan, separating from the group, Daphne finds herself in the arms of Olly. Daphne hopes to have found a connection she has been longing for. Olly, a handsome, middle-class white junior lawyer, has other ideas.
In terms of adaptation, it’s by the books. Little has profound development, and if you’re familiar with the original tale or Caroline Kepnes novels – you know the likely outcome. Or, so you would suspect. For the most part, the first act is pleasant, with amiable, at times compelling, vocals courtesy of Herron.
Projection is an issue within Paradise Sanctuary if you don’t have mic set-ups. Although allowing for the live band to receive the correct acoustics, it’s audibility drowns out vocals.
Aesthetically, A Crown of Laurels is stripped back – reliance is on the live band, performance elements and writing. There are however a series of glasses, drinks and cocktails sitting across the stage. In pairs, they are small reminders of the setting, a minute touch showing a working mind behind tiny details.
We suffer drawback in the character of Olly, who, while attempts are made to make him interesting, is notably flat. Hurley in no way turns out poor performance, but he’s overwhelmed by Herron who brings tighter vocals and diverse emotion.
Then it hits, like a truck laden with uncomfortable, unknown by many, truth. A serious monologue about the art world today is the real merit of this production. Faultless in execution, there’s a sense of glass-like fragility in Herron’s voice, but her command of the stage is iron. To discuss the profit made from sexual abuse, desensitisation in the arts community is noble cause we applaud. It’s an issue in discussion for theatrics circles, but less so in the arts community.
A Crown of Laurels has protentional to ripple a community with its direct approach towards the billion-dollar profit on the back of under-age ‘subjects’ and painters historic sexual abuse. With investable characterisation, projection and clearer vocals there’s a defining play here.