Reviewed by Kate O'Sullivan
At the heart of 12 Last Songs is the simple yet profound concept of work—what people do for a living, how they fill their hours, and how that shapes their identities. This production, created by UK-based company Quarantine, defies traditional theatre conventions, blending performance with live exhibition, and unfolding as a continuous, evolving conversation.
The structure is deceptively simple: across 12 hours, real workers from various fields—from dog groomers and nude models to experimental physicists—step onto the stage to perform their jobs while being interviewed by one of three performers. The performers follow a projected text of 600 questions that span the breadth of human experience, moving from early memories to end-of-life reflections, simple yes-no questions to deeper more personal ones. With no pre-written script, the responses are spontaneous, creating a raw, genuine portrait of ordinary lives that are, in fact, extraordinary in their own right.
Adding another layer, a fourth performer ventures out into the city, sending back live footage that is projected into the theatre space. These glimpses of real-world people assembling, moving, and going about their own lives serve as a quiet counterpoint to the conversations unfolding on stage.
At 3 pm, the atmosphere within the Heath Ledger Theatre is immersive and fluid. Audience members are scattered throughout—some seated traditionally, others positioned on stage, making them part of the experience. The set evolves as time passes, with soft-lit projections and scrim adding texture to the shifting vignettes of work. Throughout, an Auslan interpreter ensures accessibility, further emphasizing the production’s commitment to inclusivity and real-world engagement.
During the late-night stretch from 10 pm to midnight, the show took on a different energy. By then, certain workers—such as a wallpaperer who had been in the space since 11 am—had become fixtures in the space. The scrim had been removed, the wallpapering completed, and the on-stage audience had dissipated, giving the final hours a more intimate, conversational feel.
A particularly engaging moment came with a recap from those who had been there the entire day—Elliot, the Auslan interpreter, and Dan, the wallpaperer—providing a reflective summary of how the work and conversations had unfolded. The interplay of comedy and seriousness in the questions and answers made for a deeply human experience, highlighting both the mundanity and the beauty of everyday labour. Experimental physicist David brought a fascinating scientific thread into the performance late in the evening, blending storytelling with science communication.
The final hour saw a revisiting of the day’s questions, inviting contemplation from both performers and audience members alike. And then, as the culmination of this sprawling, unscripted journey, the last question was posed: What song should finish the night? The answer became the show’s final note, closing 12 Last Songs with a fittingly personal and poignant touch.
Despite some technical hiccups—such as occasional microphone dropouts that disrupted the flow between conversations—the production remained compelling, driven by the honesty and vulnerability of its participants. 12 Last Songs doesn’t just depict reality; it lets reality take centre stage, inviting audiences to bear witness to the quiet significance of work, time, and human connection.
Reviewer Note: Kate attended this performance from 3pm-4.15pm and then returned at 9.45pm until midnight. Due to the nature of the performance, she also knew a couple of the workers involved. Tickets for this review were provided by Perth Festival.
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