Review: SUDS' Arcadia makes the pendulum swing

Binary opposites become whole in SUDS’ vibrant reimagining of the play, and though its discussions of  thermodynamics, aesthetics, and sex may at first seem arbitrary, they have profound intention. 

Design by Amelia Vogelsang

Almost every description of Tom Stoppard’s Arcadia is preoccupied with dichotomy. It is the marriage of order and disorder, past and present, certainty and uncertainty. Binary opposites become whole in SUDS’ vibrant reimagining of the play, and though its discussions of  thermodynamics, aesthetics, and sex may at first seem arbitrary, they have profound intention. 

Directed and produced by Tilda Wilkinson-Finch and Pat Fuccilli , the play begins with the dalliances of an early 19th century Derbyshire estate. The prodigious Thomasina (Ruby Zupp) and sardonic tutor Septimus Hodge (Charlie Papps) converse with the other inhabitants of the house under an arched window overlooking the gardens. 183 years later, historian Hannah Jarvis (Amber Broadbent) and literature professor Bernard Nightingale (Max Danta) stand under the same window, pondering the secrets of the past. Aided by Valentine Coverly (Eimer Hayes) in their endeavour to uncover truths that have been lost to time as science, literature, and history converge. 

The intricate world of Arcadia hinges upon a single room. Possessed by the spirit of Oscar Wilde, set designer Annie Lewis constructs an eclectic manifold of ornate sculptures and still-lifes. A table dominates the centre of the stage and becomes the focal point from the moment Thomasina utters her first line:

“Septimus, what is carnal embrace?”

Papps’ standout performance was punctuated by effortless sarcasm — “Carnal embrace is the practice of throwing one's arms around a side of beef", he replies — alongside his clever characterisation which made his rendition of Septimus highly convincing. 

The production stayed true to Stoppard’s modernist temperament. Often awash in a cold, pale light, the stage lighting, under Luna Ng’s charge, turns an unflinching eye to the thematic struggle between Classicists and Romantics. Broadbent and Danta worked excellently in tandem to personify the intellectual battle. Broadbent understands the language of knives, bringing an understanding of sharp wit and razor-edged intellect to the clinical historian as she remarks upon “the decline from thinking to feeling.” Danta’s fiery panache is well suited to Bernard who rejoices in the Romantic imagination. Danta’s delivery was particularly compelling during Bernard’s diatribe, “I can’t think of anything more trivial than the speed of light. Quarks, quasars, big bangs, black holes — who gives a shit?” As the play continues, the two delicately reveal their characters’ flaws in remarkable fashion. The oppositional dynamics make their budding chemistry all the more compelling. 

Hayes coolly played the role of ardent mathematician, creating searing electricity with Hannah in scenes that had the audience inching closer to the stage. Adele Beaumont’s stellar comedic timing shone through in her portrayal of Noakes, inspiring raucous laughter as the play’s action ebbed and flowed. The cast brandished their characters with magnetic idiosyncrasies that highlighted each of their talents, however their ability to work collectively was showcased through surprising means. The cast remained undeterred as riotous dancing from a wedding reception directly above in the Refectory threatened to collapse the ceiling and Aqua’s ‘Barbie Girl’ seeped through the floorboards. 

As the chaos faded, as did the play’s lighthearted ambience. A tonal shift was masterfully orchestrated through dimmed, warmer toned lights and costume changes — designed by  Victoria Gillespie — which saw the 1992 entourage bedecked in slinky evening attire. The final scenes are a culmination of major ideas that had been blooming throughout the play. We witness entropy firsthand as the timelines begin to merge, taking place concurrently. The artefacts of past and present stirring together remind us of the immutability of time and futility of objective truth. The glow of a candlestick, left out haphazardly, reminds us of Thomasina’s revelations about chaos and heat death. As Septimus and Thomasina waltz alongside Hannah and Gus (Gemma Hudson), we are forced to question the deterministic nature of love and what makes it worthwhile knowing we are fated to die. 

The play explores halves and wholes, but ends on a single resounding note. The production was successful in reawakening a childlike curiosity about the mysterious and unfathomable, an instinct that, for many, has become jaded during the throes of university life. It is a welcome intrusion as, after all, “It’s the wanting to know that makes us matter.”

Arcadia will be performed at the Cellar Theatre until March 18th. Tickets available here.