There’s a wonderful kind of unease that always lingers in the Old Fitz’s late-night offerings: narratives that push beyond tidy plots and polish, and the sense that the show might not behave—and neither should you.

The Company Theatre’s production of Fewer Emergencies by Martin Crimp leans right into that ethos, refusing traditional structure, character arcs, or resolution. Instead, it offers a surreal and unsettling journey through grief, detachment, and the violence we do to ourselves and each other. It unspools slowly and darkly, directed with a quiet, controlled precision by Harry Reid.

This one-act play unfolds as a triptych of fractured scenes that evoke the disorientation of psychosis, weaving a lattice of thoughts grappling with loss, repression, and decay. Crimp’s postmodern prose swings between beauty and brutality, recycling media, inner thoughts, grabs of gossip and shards of memory. He exposes how we “perform” grief, love, and horror, watching ourselves through a distant lens. The dialogue echoes rather than builds, looping in poetic rhythms that invite interpretation. While it’s unflinchingly provocative and confronts heavy-hitting themes, it never exploits or sensationalises.

There’s a strong undertone of authenticity and grace within the ensemble’s nuanced performances as they traverse this psychological minefield with unwavering conviction, forming a kind of discordant Greek chorus, echoing, shadowing, and amplifying one another’s voices. Their physicality is exacting, with measured gestures that trace the emotional contours of each scene. At times, song and humour emerge, cutting through the heaviness with a sharp, ironic edge.

Monica Sayers commands the first scene as a woman trapped in a performative marriage, using calculated poise to draw us into a domestic world where civility masks deep unease. Beneath the domestic routine and rehearsed platitudes, desperation and quiet violence fester.

Bayley Prendergast inhabits the second scene, delivering a chilling meditation on the desensitising effects of media-saturated violence. His performance balances a sinister, matter-of-fact tone with barely contained anger, offering rare insight into the perpetrator’s perspective. The “going postal” tragedy is all too familiar to us. Yet, we rarely see it from this point of view.

Olivia Hall-Smith delivers what may be the most primal scream of grief I’ve ever witnessed on stage. Crimp’s image of a child confined while chaos rages outside reveals how true horror is internalised and inherited, quietly passing through domestic walls. Hall-Smith’s performance is a fascinating contradiction of fierce restraint and emotional rupture.

Clay Crighton’s portrayal of the child (Bobby—or is it Jimmy?) is a constant presence, symbolising innocence corrupted by inherited trauma. They weave an empathetic thread through the fractured narratives, providing a gripping counterbalance that reveals enduring pain and its lasting repercussions.

The performance space is intimate, fragile, and suspended, like the inside of the characters’ minds. This simplicity allows moments of reflection to breathe between scenes. Izzy Morrissey’s lighting and hazer effects are stark and deceptively understated, creating an atmosphere that feels both immediate and unmoored, underscoring tension, the beauty of truth, and a quiet unease.

Fewer Emergencies draws the audience into unguarded, visceral terrain, exposing uncomfortable, fragmented psyches. It walks the line between stillness and suspense, meditation and menace. Its impact lies in its proximity; this could be any of us. Odd, unsettling – and strangely magnetic, there are no easy answers or understandings. And all the more powerful for it.

Fewer Emergencies is playing at the Old Fitz Theatre until 3 August. For further details, see: https://www.oldfitztheatre.com.au/fewer-emergencies

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