Lloyd Evans Lloyd Evans

A decorative pageant that would appeal to civic grandees: The Secret River reviewed

Plus: traces of magic from an invective-filled play at the Donmar Warehouse

issue 07 September 2019

The Secret River opens in a fertile corner of New South Wales in the early 1800s. William, a cockney pauper transported to Australia for theft, receives a pardon from the governor and decides to plant a crop on 100 acres of Aboriginal land. His doting wife, Sal, begs him to take her and their young sons back to her beloved London. They make a deal. William must succeed as a farmer within five years or pay for their passage home.

He clashes with a tribe of spear-waving Aboriginals who make it clear that they want him off their ancestral turf. Neither side speaks the other’s language. ‘This is mine now. You lot can have the rest,’ says William, pointing vaguely at Australia. Enter Smasher Sullivan, a drunken cockney bully, who calls the Aboriginals ‘vermin’ and wants to recruit a local militia to evict them by force, first with whips, later with guns.

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