Hansard Spoiler-free Review

Image Credit: Daniel Salmond

Hansard- 9 out of 10 stars
Stirling Players

Tickets: Buy Tickets — Stirling Players Adelaide

Originally premiering at London’s National Theatre in September 2019, Hansard, Simon Woods, is a sharp, incisive political tragicomedy set in 1988 that dissects a tumultuous marriage between a Conservative MP and his liberal-minded wife. At its core, Hansard is as much about the political transformations of Margaret Thatcher’s Britain as it is about the private fractures within a marriage. The title itself is drawn from the official record of Parliamentary debates in Britain—a name that immediately signals not only the overt political backdrop but also the metaphorical domestic debates endlessly waged between the play’s two protagonists, Robin and Diana. Their conversations echo the parliamentary sparring that defines Robin’s professional world but played out at the kitchen table rather than across the dispatch box.

The play unfolds over a summer morning in Robin and Diana’s home. The year, 1988, is not incidental but purposefully chosen. It marks the period in which Section 28 of the Local Government Act was introduced—legislation designed to prohibit the “promotion” of homosexuality by local authorities. In practice, this meant that teachers, counsellors, and schools could not provide support, advice, or even acknowledgement of LGBTQ+ students’ lived experiences without fear of prosecution. Cruel in its function, Section 28 inflicted further alienation on an already marginalised group of young people.

When Robin, the Conservative MP at the centre of the play, returns home on his birthday, he expects nothing more than a quiet celebration. Instead, he is drawn into an increasingly heated confrontation with his wife, Diana. Their marriage becomes the stage upon which personal failures and political philosophies are fiercely contested. Diana, witty, and filled with quiet rage, resents Robin’s loyalty to a political system that she believes damages real people’s lives, particularly those already vulnerable. Robin, meanwhile, presents himself as a man tethered to the realities of governance, though this pose often slides into arrogance and cutting insult. Their exchanges are laced with sharp humour, often laugh-out-loud funny, but the laughs sting because they reveal the cracks beneath the cleverness. Over less than 100 minutes, the argument ricochets between flirtatious banter and devastating confessions, ultimately unearthing the personal tragedies that loom just beneath the surface of their combative affection.

Image Credit: Daniel Salmond

For the Australian premiere, Stirling Players and director Sally Putnam rose ambitiously to the challenge of staging this tightly wound, two-hander. Political dramas can easily risk alienating audiences with dry rhetoric, yet Hansard thrives on the dynamism between its two characters. Putnam wisely allows the script’s rhythm to dominate the production, trusting the actors to carry it. Anita Zamberlan Canala and Andrew Clark, as Diana and Robin, deliver extraordinary chemistry onstage. Their rapport is robust enough to convince the audience of decades of marriage—equal parts intimacy, annoyance, and lingering affection. Together they navigate Woods’ script with impressive agility, shifting seamlessly from comic exchanges to moments of raw vulnerability. The landmines of revelation scattered throughout the dialogue are detonated with clarity, leaving the audience hanging on every uncomfortable silence and bombshell.

Admittedly, there were occasional issues of pacing, with some beats arriving slightly too early or too late, as if the text and physical rhythm had briefly fallen out of step. There were also brief moments that suggested a little blocking assistance was necessary along the way. Yet these minor stumbles were absorbed into the shorthand the two actors developed with one another, enough that they never derailed the momentum. Accents, too, remained credible across the entire performance—a detail not to be understated for a British-set play staged in South Australia.

Before the dialogue even begins, attention is immediately caught by Bob Peet’s detailed set design. The kitchen-dining-living area is a fully realised environment, equipped with the sorts of details that convince audiences of a lived-in home. Straight edges and sharp lines create strong visual architecture, allowing set dressings—a sink, the fridge, the stove, doors leading into other imagined spaces—to anchor the realism. As an audience member, I initially wondered if every element would be deployed meaningfully over the course of the 90 minutes. After all, a set crammed with unused props is unnecessary clutter. Yet almost every chosen detail came into play at some point during the unfolding conversation. Most of the set dressing effectively evokes the late 1980s middle-class household. This achievement deserves strong recognition for Louise Lapan’s meticulous choices and attention to detail.

Image Credit: Daniel Salmond

One refreshing aspect of this production was the restraint shown in lighting and sound design. Rather than overwhelming the natural intimacy of the script with complicated cues, a simple lighting state is held for much of the production. This constancy allowed the audience’s full attention to remain locked on the verbal sparring at centre stage. Only in the final minutes did the lighting shift, a subtle underscore to the play’s final revelations. Sound design, too, was pared back to three clear motifs, all serving to extend the world beyond the kitchen walls. While a single sound cue was delivered late, momentarily startling a portion of the audience, it hardly detracted from the overall effect. If anything, the simplicity of these technical designs emphasised the heart of Hansard: the dialogue between two people, performed with skill and conviction.

By the end of the evening, what began as a witty domestic quarrel evolves into a sombre meditation on grief, disconnect, and the corrosive impact of ideology when it comes before compassion. The audience, once laughing at the sharpness of Diana’s barbs or Robin’s pompous rebuttals, finds itself instead hushed, invested in the fragile humanity beneath the rhetoric. This play reminds us that behind every speech, every policy, lies the private lives of those entangled in its consequences.

Final thing to note is the importance of time within this production, including starting “on time”… go along and check out Hansard, by Stirling Players to find out why.

- Andrew Broadbent