You Can't Tell Anyone (Canberra College) - Review
'We should at least play until we've all had our feelings hurt.'
Credit: Anna Henderson
After Equus and The Almighty Sometimes, I was convinced my tour of plays that tackled psychology and the emotional injury inflicted upon their discussion was well and truly finished. That is, until I was invited to view a staging by Canberra College of You Can't Tell Anyone, a play by Joanna Richards, commissioned by Canberra Youth Theatre in 2023. First performed in the Canberra Theatre Centre's Courtyard Studio, this show is a mature and intimate production that relies on its typically younger cast to enhance its identity and envelope any space within which it is performed. Luckily, Richards' play is given a worthy staging by some of Canberra's finest youth talent, who have successfully met the challenge set forth by this script.
Caitie Bissett emerges as a director to be watched in a phenomenal debut production. Bissett maintains an air of tension throughout the production through careful attention to emphasis in conversation and reactivity of cast; the lines that need to simmer do so in vitriolic fashion, and her room of actors all respond collectively, yet differently, creating an atmosphere of multifaceted discomfort that is never quite able to be shaken throughout the entire play. I am unsure as to whether an intermission is intended for this show, but the absence of such allows Bissett's remarkable production to affect the audience as it does the characters; it is a play that is palpable with unpleasant emotions, and one that leaves the audience constantly wanting for a resolution that is always just out of reach.
Pictured, from left to right: Jeremy (Ethan Wiggins) and Luke (William Best)
Credit: Anna Henderson
On the topic of performers, Bissett finds herself well-armed with a cast of staggeringly impressive young actors, each one standing out in an entirely unique way. Ethan Wiggin's emotionally fragile Jeremy is both heart-tugging, yet deceptively guilty in equal measure, as his mask continues to crack throughout the show. He clashes remarkably with Georgia Meir as Gwen, whose attempts to maintain a level of control over her evening eventually gives way to her inability to control her future in relativity to others, let alone the festivities of the night, and Meir is superb at portraying this power struggle's loss in real time. Sophia Sigala's emotionally vulnerable Tilly is a wonderfully delicate performance, which absolutely drained the room of sound towards play's end with an intensely demanding vocal outburst as she is forced to once again experience her deep-seated trauma.
Elsewhere, Hannah Dixon is suitably cattish and remarkably antagonistic as the offensive provoker Kat, maintaining an air of vitriol that remained thoroughly unpleasant to witness. William Best offers an extremely likable lummox as Luke, yet revels in his opportunity to portray emotional complexities as he is confronted with the outward perceptions his adolescent shenanigans have garnered. The character of Willa is the most likable turn of the evening, whose good-natured demeanour and victim-hood at the hands of her so-called friends is portrayed amiably and with immense charm by Ashlee Lanza. Ingrid Nielsen is a pleasant surprise as Benny, sitting on the sidelines of most of the conversations before snatching the focus in a key emotional scene that is sold with panache. And Emily Moore gives a phenomenal turn as the out-of-her-element Nicole, snugly fitting into the rest of the cast with a discomforted performance that adds phenomenally to the show's building tension.
The technical elements at work in this show are impressively realised additions to Bissett's vision, with sound designer Alex Surawski's booming resonances helping amp up the tension and keep the staging punctuated by supernatural undertones. Additionally, the dynamic lighting design of Sam Spurrier shines especially well in scenes of dramatic tension, with purposeful switching in and out of intensity to aid in spotlighting the intense emotions these teens are experiencing. The set assists in grounding the audience in the setting, with a well armed party foods table, messy bookshelf, and worn family couch all adding to the charm of a standard family house, while also remaining minimal enough for the cast to suitably occupy the space, complemented by costume designs that were all sufficiently distinct, yet collectively cohesive.
You Can't Tell Anyone is a phenomenally staged production, and it is wonderful to see a script of this sort getting the treatment it deserves in youth-mounted efforts such as this. Bissett and co. have not only succeeded in staging a worthy production of this fascinating script, but have also showcased a group of performers and creatives that should be watched with keen interest. Hopefully you were able to see it before it shut its doors last Friday; it was a youth production not to be missed.
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