Love Me Tender

In Greek tragedy, fate hunts down the characters with the implacability of a wall of flame moving in to devour a small Victorian country town. The Euripides tragedy Iphigenia in Aulis was one of playwright Tom Holloway's inspirations for Love Me Tender. So were the Black Saturday bushfires, although both the smoke and the masks disguise the work's deeper purpose: a concern for the welfare of the young amid a culture of raunch.

Adam Gardnir's set is a raised pentagon of turf, like a fenced-off children's playground. Here we meet a nameless father (Colin Moody) as he describes a scene that sounds like a rape, but turns out not to be. It's the first of the play's red herrings and sets up the theme of jumping to prurient conclusions.

The dad relates his story with the help of two choruses (Kris McQuade and Arky Michael). These comical figures function as the voice of a twisted society: evil angels mouthing exaggerations, suspicions and calumnies. The father has a young daughter to whom he has an attachment that is just a little too intense, and this is a cause of anxiety for the girl's mother (Belinda McClory).

The mother worries that we're sacrificing our kids' childhoods on the altar of sexuality. Parallel to this is the presence of a cop (Luke Hewitt) whose job seems often to involve a different kind of sacrifice: the mercy killing of injured animals.

This is an exciting theatrical experiment directed by Matthew Lutton for Company B in partnership with Griffin Theatre. Rather than fleshed-out drama, it takes the form of a series of theatrical surprises that it would be a shame to reveal. The audience is expected to join the metaphorical dots - between Greek and outback tragedy, between doe-eyed infants and actual hoofed does. An acquaintance with Greek theatre will certainly help, but the puzzled won't have time to get irritated because Love Me Tender is both constantly entertaining and, at 85 minutes, blessedly succinct.

There's not much time for characterisation, mind you, but the five actors make a strong impression, notably Moody's haunted and guilty father and McClory's high-strung mother. Comedy relief comes courtesy of veteran jester Arky Michael. Nick Dent