★★★★☆
Premiering on the French stage in 1994, and then in London with Christopher Hampton’s 1996 English translation, Yasmina Reza’s play Art is now performed so frequently around the world that it’s almost never out of production. It’s easy to see why.
Sharp, witty dialogue, a touch of cruelty, men fighting over an absurd, completely white painting that threatens a 20-year friendship. Rare, though, is a theatre performance that can sustain consistent, genuine laughs for its entirety.
Under the sure control of director Lee Lewis, this production pulls it off. Rare, too, is watching three of our best actors at the top of their game having so much fun. This production of Art, though not without a quibble, is a cracker.
Serge (Damon Herriman), a well-to-do dermatologist, has bought a painting for €160,000. It’s white, just white, maybe some white lines, “incredibly modern.” Serge has invited Marc (Richard Roxburgh) to view his purchase, expecting validation.
But Marc, an intellectual, self-proclaimed outsider, detests it, seeing it as an egregious affront to values that he assumed Serge shared. The more Marc attacks, the more Serge defends his purchase, so Marc encourages a mutual friend, Yvan (Toby Schmitz), to view the painting.
Yvan sells stationery, is about to be married, and is insecure. But he sees no problem with the painting if that is “what makes Serge happy.” Marc, not one to contemplate a middle ground, is contemptuous of this position and resolves to change it. One evening at Serge’s, the tension between the trio blows up deluxe.
Despite the dissonance of a Parisian setting and talk of Euros, the play really doesn’t jar because there’s an element of the poseur, the wanker, in Serge that is instantly recognisable in an Australian context.
As Serge, Herriman is all smooth vibes, with just the right amount of fragile superiority that quickly collapses into defensiveness.
Roxburgh plays Marc, hands thrust into his pockets, pants hitched, chest puffed, as a study in frustration and roiling outrage with a sense of abandonment not far below the surface.
Yvan is the relatable, emotional and anxious heart of the play. Schmitz nails it perfectly, all gangly awkward angles and panicky insecurity. He’s sympathetic without being doltish.
There’s also palpable generosity between the actors, and they play off each other wonderfully. Their physical comedy is finely honed, and their timing is impeccable. And of course, the delicious irony of three friends playing three friends who fall out is not missed.
Lewis has tight control of her actors and manages scene changes and transitions into and out of direct speech to the audience deftly. Her sharp woman’s eye on the way men interact is evident in the perceptive comedy of the olive-eating scene, and her pacing is sharp.
The headlong rush to the next joke, however, does mean we don’t always get time to engage with the implications of Reza’s ideas. The play is a mild commentary on art, highlighting the subjectivity of value and meaning, but its larger theme is the construction (and deconstruction) of friendship.
Yvan’s therapist’s notes on Serge and Marc’s relationship are a case in point. They sound like pretentious gibberish, played for laughs, but there’s a kernel of truth in there about how we construct identity and interact within relationships, and what happens when our roles are challenged.
Should we always be truthful? The irony is that having torn down the relationship through brutal honesty, Serge seeks to re-establish it with a lie. Is this okay, he asks the audience?
Each technical aspect of this production is integrated beautifully. The clever set from Charles Davis evokes a modern apartment with classic lines, enabling it to double for all three apartments, individually defined by paintings on slide-out walls.
Fashionable lighting (Paul Jackson) and complementary sound design and music (David Letch and Max Lambert) afford an ambience of sophistication and calm against which the turmoil plays out. Costumes (also from Davis) clearly delineate character, and the actors inhabit them like a second skin.
Minor cavils aside, Art is a great night out. We pretty much know that men behave badly; they have trouble expressing themselves honestly; they can be cruel. But this play is never pitiless.
Rather, it remains sympathetic to the humanity in each character. Art has a clear intent to have a bloody good time with a 30-year-old play performed many times. It succeeds brilliantly.
Art runs in Sydney to 8 March at the Roslyn Packer Theatre for a limited season. 22 Hickson Road Walsh Bay NSW 2000. See full dates below.
Art is presented by Rodney Rigby, Marriner Group, Paul Wheelton AM and State Theatre Company South Australia.
Tickets: https://arttheplay.com.au/tickets/sydney/
Website: https://www.arttheplay.com.au/
Socials: https://www.instagram.com/arttheplayau/
Photo credit: Brett Boardman
2026 Australian Tour Dates:
Sydney 10 February – 8 March, Roslyn Packer Theatre
Brisbane 11 – 22 March, Playhouse QPAC
Melbourne 22 April – 3 May, Comedy Theatre
Adelaide 20 – 24 May, Her Majesty’s Theatre
