Adapted (and retitled) by director Margaret Thanos and Damien Ryan, Sport For Jove’s production of I Hate People; or Timon of Athens returns for a very short season, this time on the York Theatre’s thrust stage.
Written by William Shakespeare in collaboration with Thomas Middleton, it is a play rarely performed. Ostensibly a (problematic) five-act structure, it is best rendered, as Thanos does, in two acts – before the fall, and after the fall of Timon.
The play asks the big questions. Who are our true friends, who flatters to deceive, and how can we discern the difference? Are we just playthings of the gods? What does it mean, and what does it take, to be human?
Opening on a moodily lit stage of scaffolding and broken Ionic columns, a poet and a painter spar over the merits of their particular art, and their desire for wealthy patronage. For a play about the venality and hypocrisy of society, what better place to start than for Shakespeare to foreground the complicity of his own art?
Transitioning into a wildly choreographed bacchanalia, Timon (Damien Ryan) entertains his friends with a generosity bordering on.. well, insanity. For, with classic dramatic irony, it’s clear to the audience that almost every ‘friend’ is false.
Also obvious is a corollary with the sycophantic echo chambers of modern social media. Resident philosopher, Apemantus (Mike Booth), though, is no flatterer nor false friend. He tries to warn Timon but is dismissed as a sour cynic.
When Timon discovers he is in debt and none of his so-called friends will help, he is bitterly aggrieved and resolves to quit Athens. But not before hosting one last supper. Timon is in no mood for turning the other cheek and he serves up a literal shitshow, renouncing his belief in humanity.
Rending his clothes from his body, Timon retreats to a cave (here, a tent), materially and physically casting himself outside civilisation to live on whatever he can forage with his spade. Of course, to his horror, he finds gold. What will he do with it? Will he forsake his newly minted armour of misanthrope? Not a chance, because at the heart of this play, there is a nihilism that is dark and uncompromising.
If it reads on the page as somewhat of an intellectual exercise, one of the great wonders of this adaption by Thanos and Ryan is that the play pulsates with life. From the partying of the first act to the ironic humour and violent rage of the second, this production carries emotional heft.
A fantastic soundscape from composer AJ Evans swells and ebbs like a beating heart. The very clever multifunctional set by Rose Montgomery reflects both the halcyon days of Athenian civilisation already facing the abyss and today’s broken-down, financially-stricken State.
Clever costuming by Aloma Barnes Siraswar accentuates this connection. Flowing white robes of Senators mingle with sharp suits and military dress. Our traditional view of white and black colours is subverted. Rather than a villain, black encodes the outsider, the questioner, the truth-sayer. It’s another way this production is so skilfully conceived and executed.
In the second act, Thanos leans into the play’s absurdist elements. Trying to erase any trace of himself, Timon is contrarily besieged by one visitor after another, while enduring a love/hate relationship with his tent. The humour is really pushed, most noticeably in Timon’s verbal jousts with Apemantus that are alternately tender and spiteful.
Godot-like, Ryan and Booth play this scene beautifully, like an old married couple, but any tenderness is undercut by Timon’s unyielding focus on the end game.
The ensemble works beautifully together. There is a genuine rapport, and not just in the choreographed dance movements.
The four leads are exceptional. Jake Speer as Alcibiades projects a steely forthright honesty. Deborah Galanos’ perfectly pitched sincerity as Timon’s steward Flavia provides the play’s emotional core.
In the difficult role of Apemantus, Booth is outstanding. And Timon, in the hands of Ryan is a raging, uncompromising, fully-human being. Childlike in his early naiveté, and Lear-like in his rage, Ryan gives us a Timon to be reckoned with the great Shakespearian roles. This is one truly exceptional performance.
If only the acoustics of the York Theatre were better because they punish those with higher-pitched voices or theatrical inexperience. Theatre shouldn’t require body mics, so perhaps Sydney University could spend a little of its singular surplus on a benefit for the many. Timon would perhaps approve.
Make no mistake, this production of Timon of Athens is not for the faint-hearted. With drugs, sex, suicide, and nudity, (kudos to intimacy coordinator Cristabel Sved) it is a wild visceral ride. Though this redux season is over almost before it begins, Thanos’ production highlights why Sport For Jove is one of the most exciting companies around. And in Damien Ryan, perhaps our best Shakespearean actor.
I Hate People; Or Timon of Athens is presented by Sport For Jove and runs for five performances only from 12-15 June at The York Theatre. Seymour Centre Cnr City Road and Cleveland Street Chippendale NSW 2008.
Tickets: https://www.seymourcentre.com/event/i-hate-people-or-timon-of-athens/
Website: https://www.sportforjove.com.au/timon-of-athens-2025
Socials: https://www.instagram.com/sportforjove/
Photo credits: Robert Catto
