National Security and The Art Of Taxidermy

Extremely alert but not alarmed, a racist taxidermist appears to be one of the few to know what the terrorism hotline number is.


David Callan plays Neville, a racist taxidermist dealing with the recent loss of his German Shepherd, Uzi Nine Millimetre. On top of that, Neville also has his eyes on all the non-Anglo-Saxons of the world, and especially those in his street.

Methodical in life and work as a taxidermist, Neville is a straight thinking man with clear, unwavering lines of what is white and what is wrong with society. Dialogue is powerful and direct; a force of an iron-will values system that balances precariously along a line between satire and harsh commentary.

Mary Rachel Brown's script is a sharp and tasty blend of an extremist's views on both humans and animals. A diatribe over the classification of poodles as non-dogs turns up a smile of logic that is most convincing albeit a little scary in its examination of the canine species.

Callan so easily swings Neville between the points of a caring racist to a hard line taxidermist that it's hard not to sympathise with the character. Offering hints of compassion and connection, Neville is an engaging man. The audience falling into his sledgehammer grip as he recounts the small events which lead up to this moment in his life. Neville's attempts at securing a prospective wife is a shamelessly pitiful exercise that it's hard not to consider it in anything but a hilarious mar of self-worth and inflated sense of machismo. Tales and advice on the taxidermy game are sensationally grotesque that they are compelling in their telling.

Physical theatre plays a small part and Callan adds a slight vulnerability to Neville that brings the raving excesses of the man back down a few notches. But only by a hint. Stark unwavering bright lights of the earlier scenes reflect upon the sterility of both the operating room and Neville's line of sight. Sinking the production into a hue of blue, the final act brings about a sobering and caring aspect to the night, reflective drowning in the emotion of sorrow as it were.

For a quick lesson in taxidermy, audience members will find themselves in a crash course of bare bones goings on behind the art and craft of stuffing dead pets. Not enough though, there are a few secrets that stay off the script and boards. They seek to entice, not to spoil. National Security and the Art of Taxidermy offers little in the way of subtleties. Ramming against extremes of passion and hate even the most bigoted of society share in the joys of adoration, love and respect. Xenophobia and paranoia often twisting what that definition means for every person.


The Glynn Nicholas Group will perform National Security and the Art of Taxidermy as part of the 2005 B Sharp Season at the Downstairs Theatre, at the Seymour Centre until 9 October 2005.

Soon Van

Published September 2005 at The Program - NSW Stage reviews

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