I attended the final preview before opening night of Margaret Thanos's production of A Mirror at Sydney's Belvoir St Theatre. Upon taking a seat in the intimate confines of the Upstairs Theatre, the audience was met with an immediate and slightly confusing demand. We were asked to stand. The instruction felt awkward at first, yet it served as a remarkably effective disruption that set the tone for a fantastic evening. We were no longer spectators. We were guests at the wedding of Joel and Layla, who were reciting bizarre vows to a fictional totalitarian state. This is how Sam Holcroft's play begins which is a production that demands attention from the very first minute. The venue itself is perfectly suited for this undertaking. The excellent acoustics ensure every word remains crisp even at the back of the room, and the intimacy guarantees everyone a great view while this play builds.
The secret performance masquerading as a wedding is rooted in the real-world tactics of artistic resistance. Digging into the background of the play, I learned that Holcroft drew inspiration from a heavily restricted 2011 trip to North Korea. There, she witnessed a reality entirely curated by the state. I also discovered that a 2014 visit to Lebanon informed the actual structure of the narrative. She learned of dissident artists using fake weddings to stage illicit performances without arousing police suspicion, a historical reality that grounds the improvisational comedy. Directed with a sharp political lens by Margaret Thanos, the production brilliantly navigates shifting realities.
Once the facade of the wedding drops, the set transitions to the sterile environment of the Ministry of Culture. The physical scene changes in the tight theatrical environment are difficult but handled with impressive fluidity. There are minor and almost charming hurdles along the way, such as when actors are forced to improvise knocking on a mute door, but these moments only keep the narrative flowing. Here we meet Adem, played by Faisal Hamza, a naive former mechanic whose frustrating honesty forms the moral core of the story. Adem has submitted a play composed entirely of verbatim transcripts of his poor, interesting neighbors. This commitment to unfiltered truth brings him face to face with Čelik, the Ministry's Director of Plays, portrayed by Yalin Ozucelik.
Initially, you might wonder how a person like Čelik, and how he is portrayed by the actor, could possibly be the head of a powerful government ministry. He starts off pleasant, affable, and seemingly a bit ignorant, coming across like a middle manager who had simply wandered into the wrong department. However, Ozucelik masterfully builds the character throughout the two hours, balancing a sinister joviality with ruthless ambition. He pairs Adem with his new assistant, Mei, played by the outstanding Rose Riley. The staging necessitates a visible costume change for Riley from a wedding dress to an office skirt. While one might momentarily question the logistics of doing this in front of the audience, it underscores her striking stage presence and elegantly marks the boundary between her dual roles. In the early relaxed scenes, Riley's performance feels noticeably rigid. A viewer might wish for her to relax into the role, but as the narrative unfolds, her initial stiffness makes absolute sense. As the play progresses, the well-executed almost sex scene brings a welcome touch of humanity and dark humor to the bureaucratic bleakness. The entire production is, in fact, incredibly funny despite its grim subject matter.
The heart of A Mirror is how narratives shape reality. This eventually becomes clear in a chilling monologue, explaining that soldiers are willing to die simply because they were told a story they believed in. The play underscores the profound idea that stories are at the root of all belief, and consequently, at the root of all corruption. If a state can manipulate the narrative, it can dictate what its citizens believe. This ideology is embodied by Bax, the state's pampered national treasure who produces uplifting propagandist fiction. Eden Falk takes on this role, remaining present but entirely silent for a significant portion of the early play. When he finally enters the fray, his timing is impeccable, injecting a much-needed surge of cynical, egotistical energy into the room.
As the narrative folds in on itself, taking a number of confusing but good directions, the technical elements of the production shine. There is a noticeable restraint in the use of special effects, which makes the moments when they are used more impactful. Near the climax, lighting designer Phoebe Pilcher utilizes a harsh, directional glare that temporarily blinded a few audience members. It served as a natural reflection of the state's scrutiny.
Watching this, I could also not help but think about what is happening in our own society and reflect that it is stories that become the basis of people's beliefs, whether they are true or not.
The final twists are clear, resolving the intricate plot, though the ending does feel a bit drawn out after such a relentless sprint. Nevertheless, the minor pacing issues do little to detract from what is an overwhelmingly successful production. The story, the acting, the staging, and the overall performance are undeniably first class. I absolutely loved this play and would highly recommend anyone to go and see it. It is a triumphant and intellectually satisfying bit of theatre that easily earns a 4.5 out of 5 from me.