MUD: Review

Salad Days Collective are an emerging independent theatre ensemble making a powerful impact on the Meanjin/Brisbane scene. I am constantly intrigued by Salad Days Collective’s choice of plays–hidden gems from previous decades where they offer gritty, contemporary interpretations. Salad Days refuse to shy away from a challenge and Mud is no exception. María Irene Fornés' 1983 play is a confronting reality of freedom, agency and class.

Before delving further, I must highlight the set design of Mud—carefully orchestrated by Laurent Milton. The stage is turned on its side into a thrust draped with layers of sheets. The rich textures and colours build scent and temperature to an atmosphere only just surreal. The contrast of the delicate curtains and cozy lighting design (Noah Milne) against the raw dirt on stage adds a compelling tension to the space. Often, independent productions can hesitate to develop their visual design, often constrained by venue limitations, so it's refreshing to see such bold and imaginative set design.

It is here where we find Mae ironing a shirt (Jasmine Prasser) while Lloyd (George Oates) complains in the dirt below her. There is an ambiguity in their relationship where Prasser brings maternal sternness to Mae toward Lloyd that dissolves into loathing—at times resembling that of a sibling, or perhaps even an ex-lover. This is an effective choice, because–as we learn later–even Mae cannot pin what their relationship is. Lloyd was moved in by Mae’s father when they were younger. After years of poverty and relentless hardship, Lloyd clings to Mae, bound to her home, her floor, her body. It's as if he's become one with the dirt that suffocates the set. To drive this inescapable reality home, the production quite literally places its characters in the mud. Under the direction of Calum Johnston (Director) and Jackson Paul (Assistant Director) this staging and costuming /makeup creatively immerses both actors and audience.

The arrival of a sharply dressed and seemingly helpful Henry (Alex O’Connell) introduces a new power dynamic. Mae sees Henry as a potential escape and moves him in, being attracted to his mind. However, despite his appearance and use of reading glasses, his intellectual struggles soon become apparent and something darker emerges. He creates more trouble for Mae, trapping her into the life she wishes to leave, right from the confines of her home. The production hesitates to fully embrace the weight of Henry’s darkness, particularly his sexual power over Mae. Though, O’Connell’s performance is certainly memorable and detailed with a particular brilliance in physicality.

The similarities between Henry and Lloyd are striking from the beginning. While Mae perceives Henry differently, we, as the audience, are positioned to see him as another version of Lloyd through his physical mannerisms and vocal qualities. This choice is intriguing, given the tensions between Henry and Lloyd. However, it risks muddling the distinct roles each character plays in Mae's struggle for freedom—or lack thereof—potentially undermining her journey.

At this point, I began to wonder if we were intentionally directed to move focus away from Mae, and rather, to interrogate larger systems that shape and cap all of the characters. This direction holds merit, particularly as the script highlights how characters' roles (whether that be ironing or farming) staples them to their wealth and dictates their hardships. However, in doing so, the production risks sidelining the importance of Mae’s gender and sexuality in her struggle and diminishes the emotional depth of her experience. Perhaps the freeze frames in the scene transitions could have been utilised better to explore this, where they fell short as repetitive bookends to each scene that added little depth or purpose.

This is partnered with the choice to lean into comedy beyond the original script. This lighter approach made the narrative more accessible and allowed for standout moments for the actors to really showcase their strengths—particularly for George Oates. However, at times, I found myself questioning if the comedic choices undermined the real threat the men were and the weight of their power in Mae’s narrative.

While I appreciated the bold comedic choices, I felt the play needed more moments of vulnerability from these characters, especially as it built toward its climax. There were opportunities where a shift beyond humour could have elevated the tension and allowed for more authentic impact.

The part of the script that just fascinated me was Mae’s source of power: her pursuit of knowledge beyond her immediate reality. Mae reads about a starfish. She tells us seemingly mediocre facts, but Jasmine Prasser infuses them with such awe and tenderness and it creates just a gorgeous watch. It was at this moment I saw the missed potential for this production to explore Mae's journey further–to sharpen focus on her grit, her ambition and make us believe she had a way out so that ending could punch. Nevertheless, Prasser’s performance was nuanced and commendable.

Where the direction absolutely shines is the stylistic rhythm of every single scene. The props are not only functional but integral to creating a musical quality within the vocality of the scenes. The addition of an ever-present clock sound was absolutely brilliant in underscoring the piece with heightened tension and made Mud alive.

Salad Days Collective are bringing a fearless energy to the independent theatre scene, which I deeply admire. While I have a few reservations, the production’s strength is undeniable. Mud makes us think and feel—exactly what good theatre should do.

This play is absolutely worth seeing, it closes on the 22nd March. You can grab tickets here.