Review: Bright Half Life holds a prismatic exploration of memory
Written by Tanya Barfield, directed by Rosie Niven
Review by Ceridwen Bush
Memory is as fickle as we are – when we argue with our loved ones it’s tragically easy to forget every tender moment we’ve had with them, but something as simple as an open window can cause a flood of nostalgia for a first date. Bright Half Life tells the unvarnished love story of Vicky and Erica with a tense urgency, concentrating four and a half decades of romance into a 70-minute speedrun. The non-linear play is a prismatic experience that uses the past to refract and reframe the future. Loving embraces are chopped up between the handling of divorce papers, and first dates happen alongside proposals. The chaos of these scenes cut together speaks to how quickly memory warps our present reality.
Written by the award-winning American playwright Tanya Barfield, Bright Half Life is originally a two-hander, but this production’s director Rosie Niven turns it into a cast of four, with a “Then” and a “Now” version of both characters. The decision pays off and flags the altering nature of identity as the only constant in our chaotic brains.
Genevieve Craig plays Vicky Then, a committed young professional constantly mitigating her identity as an Asian woman in a leadership position. She complains that management treats her like a token, expecting her to be submissive and dutiful. She has clearly adopted a meticulous and practical approach to life, one that leads her to divert her emotional responses. Erica is hurt by Vicky’s desire to keep their relationship hidden from her parents and their shared workplace. She struggles to explicitly ask Erica not to take a job in another city, and to build a life with her instead.
Erica Then, played by Samantha Lambert, appears to be ruled by her emotions. She pesters Vicky for a date, proposes seemingly on a whim, and uses baited questions to express her feelings. Erica is romantic to a fault – agreeing to a Ferris wheel on their first date despite a crippling fear of heights. Her flighty grasp on emotions means she struggles to return Vicky’s “I love you”, naively convinced that all relationships fade into a chore from there.
As Vicky Now, Loretta Kung sees her comfort zone as another contest she can champion. When faced with a glass ceiling, she splits from her long-term company to dominate as a CEO elsewhere. Her conservative persona and workhorse attitude curated a reserved and successful businesswoman, but the other side of the coin is a dreamer with the best garden in Rose Bay. In illness, she grants herself rest and relaxation as a dutiful priority.
Lisa Hannssens, as Erica Now, has seen so many heights she no longer has to fear the fall. Her spirit hasn’t softened, but she appears no longer burdened by her emotive temperament. When the pair are reunited in an elevator, Vicky worries that Erica is only seeking comfort because she had recently been through a breakup. Instead, Erica reveals she had been single for years now – it seems the romantic has been able to find some love for herself.
Like Chekhov's gun, everything unnecessary to this story is removed. Despite the bigger cast, Bright Half Life is a performance in a vacuum. When Vicky and Erica peek out from an office closet, hiding from their boss, I don't believe there is anyone else there. The venue is empty when they stand, now divorced, at their daughter's wedding. No one and nothing can fit in their story that is already bursting at the seams.
Both Kung and Hannssens do a spectacular job of portraying growth in the two women. They flesh traits and beliefs from their Then versions and ground them in lives well-lived. Lambert and Craig had a difficult challenge as their messy, early-twenties counterparts – but they still planted the seeds for Vicky and Erica to flourish.
The lighting, designed by Capri Harris, mitigates the chaos of the performance. When fully lit, we see the stage is sprinkled with wall decals of the couple's shared home, grounding us with a sense of place. In smaller bursts, spotlights soften the jumps of time, especially when a Now character would abruptly fill the place of their Then counterpart.
Sound designer Akesiu Poitah played subtly with the emotional stakes of the show, with a dull and mellow ambience that filled the space between scenes of tension, or with the bold high-pressure whooshing of an aeroplane. The final scene finished with an ornamented melody – meeting chaos with a sense of comfort.
The concluding scene earnestly balances the calm of Now and the storm of Then. Erica and Vicky Now travel patiently in an elevator, while their Then counterparts fervently prepare to skydive, counting down the moments until they jump. After the show, on the streets of Darlinghurst, my eyes are stung by the cool air. I’d been seemingly unable to blink at this final scene, expecting any moment for the elevator to crash to the ground. Like Erica Then, I’m always scared of the seemingly inevitable fall.
Bright Half Life is a faithful portrayal of love. By stepping outside of time, it harnesses a sweeping emotional reality, from the cyclical nature of our arguments to the reanimating ability of memories. Romantic spirits will delight in this all-consuming performance, an excellent way to start off Sydney WorldPride.
Bright Half Life is playing at Meraki Arts Bar until 19 February 2023 as part of Sydney World Pride. Tickets are available here.
Find some other great lesbian stories coming up in our Dyke’s Guide to WorldPride here!
Collage by Ceridwen Bush, production images by Becky Matthews
Ceridwen only writes because she ran out of real people who would listen to her. Her hobby is being insufferable and she gets daily Bitcoin price alerts to ensure she’s the best at it. She talks really fast and doesn’t like being asked questions. Find her ranting and raving on Instagram @scrridwen.
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