Verdict: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.5 (reviewed opening night Saturday 23 November)
The Collector is lauded as a slick psychological thriller, with its dark themes of female abduction, psychosis, coercion and death. But there is also the question of whether this storyline – written and adapted by men (John Fowles & Mark Healy) leans into voyeurism and fetishising female victims, that is to say, written merely for entertainment value.
Director Ruby Busuttil acknowledges these challenges and elevates the play beyond the cliched stereotypes we’ve seen before – the shy, awkward, lonely public servant who takes his obsession too far, and the beautiful art student he abducts and takes to his house, who will literally do anything to get her freedom back, even it if means degrading herself.
Tigran Tovmasian is Frederick and producer of the show. AJ is Miranda. The title references Frederick’s interest in collecting butterflies, a hobby practiced by villains in other famous stories such as Sherlock Holmes: Hound of the Baskervilles. To capture something so beautiful and ethereal and to pin it down, own it, preserve it…these parallels to Frederick’s unbalanced state of mind, his feelings of limerence and entitlement towards Miranda, are clear. And yes, it does make for one hell of compulsive viewing.
Quite simply, the play puts the emphasis on psychological thriller, with two fabulous actors who peel back the layers of their characters till it’s painfully skin-raw. AJ is more than just an ‘intelligent’ actor; she’s intuitive, resourceful and surprising in her acting choices, creating a multi-layered character who is sophisticated yet flawed, ambitious yet uncertain, and aloof yet warm and even compassionate towards her captor. The play is contextualised in modern day Sydney to give relevance to a contemporary audience, where creeps, coercion and violence against women are all too common. During the interval, while chatting to a friend about the play, I said “I feel so bad for Miranda, you just know what’s going to happen.” Real life has not given us much hope.
Tigran Tovmasian revels in the unbalanced mind of Frederick, maddeningly smirking and infantalising his comprehension of the gravity of the situation. Frederick obviously didn’t get the memo about consent; if he “loves Miranda” (which he rationalises that he does) and is doing everything he can to please her, then eventually, she will – she must – reciprocate. Because in some messed up part of his illogical mind, love equates to gratitude. And she should be grateful that he hasn’t raped her, or maimed, or killed her. Yet.
Fuck.
The intimate setting of the interior of a cellar basement, without windows, creates a stifling, claustrophobic atmosphere. The sharp piano keynote amplifies Frederick’s flaring temper whenever Miranda tries to escape, which she does on numerous occasions. At one point, she almost succeeds. The taunting daylight just beyond the door creates a grasping ache for freedom.
Everything on set – from shiny shoes underneath the bed to Frederick’s lifeless butterfly collection – is meticulously curated and placed in just the right position, not only to please Miranda, but also to fixate the audience as Frederick spools his sorry tale about how it “takes two to tango”.
It’s a very disturbing play, and one that is highly recommended for anyone who loves theatre – fellow acting students, directors, and fans of well told psychological thrillers.
The Collector is playing at The Actors Pulse in Redfern till Sunday 1 December. For tickets and showtimes, go to https://events.humanitix.com/the-collector
Images: Rachel Wan