The Platypus | Soft Tread Enterprises

“So what’s it about?”
“It’s about ninety minutes.”

All images: Mark Gambino

The Platypus was one of my more hyped shows of Brisbane Festival this year — written by Francis Greenslade of Shaun Micallef’s Mad as Hell fame, and starring Australian screen icons Rebecca Bower and John Leary, all of the odds were stacked in the favour of me adoring it. And while it is objectively a well constructed work, filled with jokes and arguments delivered with equal complexity and sincerity, I found myself leaving The Platypus with a bad taste in my mouth. 

A black comedy tackling the complexities of family, relationships, housing, and child rearing, The Platypus utilises its genre-bending format to unpack our cultural biases and ask uncomfortable questions. Married couple Richard and Jessica are very visibly falling apart, and when we’re with them in these moments, The Platypus is a naturalist drama. It’s when the pair meet other people, however, that the central conceit becomes clear — Richard speaks to a mum at school drop-off in limericks, while Jessica and coworker Marcus talk in Shakespearean verse. This idea, though simple, is quite effective — I found myself looking forward to the genre shifts, and taking particular delight in identifying references to playwrights such as Pinter and Mamet. It’s even acknowledged in-text when Richard and Jessica attend an alternate version of the play — Greenslade argues that we ‘invent a genre’ when interacting outside of our usual roster of loved ones, observing how often people tend to codeswitch and play characters when in unfamiliar situations.

All images: Mark Gambino

This conceit leads to some really excellent theatre — one of the biggest laughs I’ve had in years came from a sequence in which Richard (intentionally) does the worst Cary Grant impression I’ve heard in my life. Indeed, the comedy of The Platypus is its strongest factor, and it's no surprise considering Greenslade’s writing background — the dry, bleak humour of the couple’s naturalist scenes contrasts delightfully against comedies of manners, puppet shows, and Sondheim numbers. This is a deeply funny play, and stars Bower and Leary sell the comedy with a reckless abandon that most actors could only dream of.

It’s the characters and relationships, however, that stopped me from really loving The Platypus. For lack of better phrasing, everyone in this play kind of sucks. From Richard, who screams expletive-laden tirades at his son and wife, and accuses Jessica’s partner of being gay (calling her a ‘f*g hag’ multiple times), to Jessica, who cheats on Richard and refuses to allow their son Jack to attend his grandmother’s funeral, I came away from The Platypus feeling pessimistic about my fellow man. And this is a valid perspective for a play to take — I’m not trying to say that art cannot be bitter, cruel, or mean. I just felt like the play left me very little to hold on to when it came to actually enjoying my time with these characters, let alone wanting them or their relationship to persevere. The Platypus’ energy is one of a divorced dad with a fundamental misunderstanding of how parental rights work, with an animosity towards its female characters and focus on Richard’s difficulties obtaining custody of Jack (against statistical odds) that felt uncomfortable to watch.

All images: Mark Gambino

The Platypus feels like it would be a very important work for people within certain demographics — if you were a millennial homeowner entering the world of family life, I can see how this show would connect strongly. The experiences depicted felt real, if uncomfortably bitter, and this is an important story to share and identify with. Unfortunately, I don’t fall within that demographic, and as a result I wasn’t able to latch onto the work in the way that I wanted to. This is all to say that despite my misgivings, I think there is a lot in The Platypus to connect with, even if I was unable to make those connections.

While excellently written and skilfully performed, I found The Platypus to be a fatalistic, undercooked take on modern living, laughing, and loving — but if black comedy and characters you love to hate are your bag, you may have a better time than I did. I commend Greenslade for his ambition in writing The Platypus — I hope to see him continue writing for the stage, and have my fingers crossed that I’ll be able to connect with whatever he makes next more intensely than I did this time.