By Don DeLillo
Directed by Michael Futcher
Ad Astra Theatre, Brisbane
Ad Astra Theatre wrapped up their year with a powerful and thought-provoking production of Love Lies Bleeding. It left this audience member grappling with questions about life, suffering, and the responsibilities we hold for loved ones. Presented in the intimacy of Ad Astra’s studio theatre, the play drew audiences into its gripping debate with raw emotional intensity, compelling performances, and a script that demanded both intellect and empathy.
Don DeLillo’s Love Lies Bleeding explores the complex intersections of life, death, and moral dilemmas that arise when we attempt to prolong the inevitable. Under Michael Futcher’s masterful direction, the five-person cast wove a hauntingly poetic narrative, blending sharp dialogue, devastating truths, and moments of dark humour. The plot centres on Alex Macklin, a celebrated artist left in a persistent vegetative state after a second major stroke, as his fourth wife, Lia (Carla Haynes), his second wife, Toinette (Helen Howard), and his son, Sean (Spencer Cliff), wrestle with the decision to end Alex’s life.
The performances were exceptional, capturing the emotional complexity of each character. Spencer Cliff portrayed Sean with an awkwardness that evolved into poignant depth. Playing the conflicted son, Cliff took us on a journey—from clinically explaining “terminal sedation” to delivering a gut-wrenching speech to his father. His shaky hands, visible perspiration, and inability to look at his father perfectly conveyed guilt and fear in a deeply human and tender way.
Helen Howard’s Toinette started off with some biting wit, but as the story went on, you could really see her vulnerability and grief come through. Playing Alex’s second and longest wife, she portrayed a woman navigating the painful terrain between duty and heartbreak. One scene that really hit home was a flashback where Toinette and Alex looked back on their 11 years together.
Carla Haynes shone as Lia, embodying patience and tenderness even in the face of immense pressure and sadness. Her portrayal as Alex’s fourth (and current) wife struck a balance between unshakable devotion and emotional unravelling, with her caring nature teetering on the edge of obsession. Her final scene with Alex was a real tearjerker, as her endurance and love were pushed to their limits.
Greg Gesch excelled in his portrayal of Alex in a vegetative state through his physical acting. His eerily controlled stillness—accentuated by intentional slow blinks and subtle movements—commanded the stage, expressing a deep sense of fragility. In the flashbacks, John Stibbard infused Alex with vitality, heightening the tragedy of his decline. It becomes clear that Alex was not always an ideal father or husband, but he was intriguing and passionate as a person.
The production’s design elements elevated its impact. Ada Lukin’s minimalist set featured real sand and a broken wooden structure, placing the audience in the isolation of the desert. Sparse furniture, including Alex as a constant presence in his chair with his IV drip, grounded the story in the stark reality of Alex’s condition. Madelyne Leite’s lighting skilfully shifted between the cool blues and warm oranges of memory and present, while the sound design—with gentle winds, crickets, and haunting piano tunes—pulled the audience into the play’s reflective mood.
The play’s structure, with its interspersed flashbacks and flash-forwards, kept things moving and packed an emotional punch. The scenes were sharp and impactful, like chapters in a short story, with each glimpse into the characters’ lives adding more depth, e.g. A flashback to Alex recovering after his first stroke or a flash-forward to Sean’s funeral speech.
The ethical debates surrounding life and death were compelling and multifaceted. Lia’s insistence on Alex’s right to continue living clashed with Sean and Toinette’s desire to release Alex—and themselves—from the suffocating burden of his continued existence. Their arguments were selfish yet achingly human, leaving the audience to wrestle with the morality of their own perspectives. By the final flash-forward, the aftermath of their decision was revealed. Lia’s funeral speech, delivered with stoic anger, reflected her profound sense of failure and heartbreak, leaving the audience in stunned silence.
The intimacy of Ad Astra’s space truly amplified the play’s emotional resonance for me. The intimacy of the space magnified every performance detail, from Spencer’s beads of sweat to Carla’s tense jaw and Greg’s haunting stillness. The climactic moment, when Sean administers morphine to Alex, was agonisingly tense. Sean’s fumbling hands and Toinette's unravelling guilt created unbearable suspense as Alex’s breathing slowed. Greg Gesch’s extraordinary breath control made that moment viscerally real.
Ad Astra’s bold choice to stage 'Love Lies Bleeding' is praiseworthy and it ignited conversations about end-of-life ethics and our privilege of witnessing such raw live theatre. 'Love Lies Bleeding' was not an easy watch, but it was a remarkable exploration of mortality and morality. With Futcher’s sensitive direction and an outstanding cast, this production brought DeLillo’s words to life in a way that was as thought-provoking as it was deeply moving.
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