It’s the little play that could. Kate Mulvany’s The Seed has graduated to the main stage at Belvoir Street Theatre with flying colours. This significant new Australian work by a promising young female writer is a story about three people, struggling to come to terms with the past and desperately needing to embrace the present. It’s an incredible script, detailed and lyrical, at times raw and earthy. It’s laugh out loud funny and heartbreakingly sad. What gives The Seed its undeniable pulling power is Mulvany herself – performing in the lead role, playing herself (Rose Maloney though, not Kate Mulvany) this is her very own story, plucked fresh from old familial wounds. And the unearthing of the story wasn’t easy.

Rose Maloney (Mulvany) and her father Danny (Danny Adcock) have travelled all the way to Nottingham to visit Danny’s father, Brian, on their collective birthday. It is an awkward meeting. Rose has never met her ‘Granda,’ and there is something bitter and palpable between Danny and his father that lies dormant for much of the play. Still, it is Guy Fawkes Night, and when later the fireworks will scream over their little world in Brian’s cluttered living room, many old wounds will scream out for attention.

Mulvany’s story is ultimately based on fact. Much we know as truth, although it is unclear how much is embellished for the stage. Nevertheless the story is intriguing and undeniably apt for mining. Danny is a ‘ten-pound-pom’ who emigrated to Western Australia and fought in the Vietnam War. As a young man he unwittingly brought back the effects of Agent Orange, just as he started a family and settled down to domestic, suburban life. Tragically Mulvany herself (and Rose) contracted a kidney tumour and had to undergo radiation therapy at only a few years old. Rose laments that she will never have children and we are left to wonder whether this is the reality for Mulvany also. Throughout all this Danny blames himself, an innocent solider, fighting a war for a country that wouldn’t even give him citizenship. Danny’s early life wasn’t trouble-free either. Growing up with a rabble of tough brothers and Brian for a father – an ex-IRA member. Brian prides himself on his other sons over Danny, yet it is these sons who never turn up to the party.

Mulvany’s character drives the story as a recently retired journo who needs to tell her family’s story. But it isn’t necessarily a story they want told, and they will do all in their power to keep her from the truth. Nevertheless, she pushes on, thrusting her trusty dictaphone (‘dickiephone’ as Brian puts it) into the face of any who started opening up. It was at these moments that Brian and Danny became self-aware and closed off again. As a result, Mulvany’s play is beautifully structured. As the story courses the murky waters, it pushes and pulls for facts, sometimes hitting diamonds, sometimes rocks. In the midst of her quest for the stories to be told to her, Rose tells us through an intermittent monologue, of an early morning crayfishing trip with her father. Her words are so rich and detailed, so simple and true, that it is breathtakingly compelling. I didn’t want her to stop.

There is an irrefutable intensity in seeing Mulvany performing her own story. There is not much to say – it is her role, her words, her emotions, her family – she has made and lived her character, literally. Martin Vaughan is cranky, blunt, loveable and caustic as her Irish grandfather who has stories to tell and much to hide. Danny Adcock as Rose’s father is magnificent. As the play opens and he is Danny as a ten year old boy, scared and vulnerable, he is captivating. Although he takes no real-life turn in the story, Adcock has lived his role fully also. He creates such a poignant figure, still a little boy standing up to his father, still smarting from old pains. His honesty and truth showed a man struggling with his own past, yet determined and proud of his family. The tight bond between Vaughan, Adcock and Mulvany is obvious, and it was these three that first premiered the script last year. In fact most of the original crew reappear, this time with ‘companion artists.’ Director Iain Sinclair is flanked by Neil Armfield, Set Designer Micka Agosta partnered with Dale Ferguson, Lighting designer Matt Cox with Damien Cooper, and Composer Steve Toumlin with Paul Charlier. It’s an impressive line up and a winning team.

I didn’t see the play when it premiered in the Downstairs Theatre. At first looking at the set, which is primarily a small raised stage living room, I wondered if it was the same set as before, simply pushed back into the corner. Those who have seen the play have told me that it still stood strong and carried its unique resonance. Although I still felt an intimacy in this production, I feel that the piece would have been even more powerful in smaller ‘inescapable’ confines. I won’t doubt any further than that. The Seed is an apt title for a play that I’m sure is only going to conquer more territory and win over audiences afar. I would not be surprised if it is picked up by an international team. There is no doubt it has international appeal.

There is only one thing that doesn’t satisfy my appetite for this work – have the real Danny and Brian seen the play, and what would they think of hearing their so tightly kept secrets aired for all to behold?

LATE NOTE:
Kate Mulvany has contacted AussieTheatre.com and informed us of the following. Although the character of Brian is named after Mulvany's real grandfather who she never met, the Brian in the play is a ficitional character based on family memories of the real 'Brian.' The character of Danny is Mulvany's father through and through and has been written with his blessing. Danny Mulvany, along with 15 Vietnam veterans and their wives, attended the Downstairs B Sharp production last year and loved his daughter's work. He has since made great personal leaps forward after having his story finally told. We thank Kate Mulvany for her kind words and for sharing her story.