The solo show is a well-recognised rite of passage for the emerging actor. It is an act of sheer creative bravado: write the piece, mount the production, and pull together a network of favours just to get the thing on its feet. In Two Men Observing an Elephant, writer and performer Tom Robins embarks on this high-stakes, deeply personal enterprise, delivering an emotionally salient work that uncovers a vital, often neglected narrative.
Robins introduces us to two men at vastly different crossroads in their lives: a landscaper approaching middle age and an older chap slipping into retirement. Through their chance meeting and subsequent conversation, their interaction maps the profound generational divides between same-sex attracted men. Robins masterfully uncovers the unique triggers that cause each man grief, deftly activating and interrogating their internalised homophobia. It is a fascinating journey that spans a relatively short period of time but manages to reveal a wealth of forgotten history.
Stepping onto a stage entirely alone to deliver such complex material is a courageous act, but it is also a perilous one. Theatre is, by its very nature, a collaborative art form. It inherently demands an independent, outside eye to check the blind spots, and a dedicated dramaturge to scrutinise the text’s structural integrity. This is precisely why professional theatre is so expensive to develop—it requires a vast crew working behind the scenes to pull the strings and ensure the vessel rides the waves.
When an artist attempts to steer the ship entirely alone, the risk of a futile exercise is high. Yet, because Robins’ text is grounded in such poignant, necessary truths, the production largely overcomes the inherent limitations of its DIY origins. While Two Men Observing an Elephant would undoubtedly benefit from the rigorous anchoring that more hands on deck provide—a luxury directly tied to cost, sponsorship, and funding—its very existence is a testament to Robins’ grit.
Being taken on an emotional journey between two characters (and a dog) by a lone actor can be demanding on an audience, requiring a good deal of focus. Robins navigates this by blending highly stylised, dance-like moments with sections of extreme naturalism. While the prologue and epilogue carry a distinct touch of prose poetry, the core story maintains a remarkably accessible tone.
In its current form for the Feast Festival at the Goodwood Theatre & Studios, the show makes for engaging entertainment. It still bears some slightly rough edges, but these will most likely be streamlined by the time the production returns for the Adelaide Fringe for its upcoming season in Carclew’s Ballroom. There is a beautiful irony in a company named the Curious Roach Collective birthing a work that is un effort entièrement individuel. By rights of natural justice, this bold, fiercely independent undertaking should catch the eye of our local arts funding agency; a well-deserved $10,000 grant would go a long way to further finesse this vital piece—and, of course, feed the starving actor. It proves this ‘collective’ is not afraid to push boundaries, take risks, and unearth the stories that matter.
★★★★½
David Jobling
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