By Patricia Cornelius
Preview Apr 30, Open May 1, Close May 10
Showtime at 8PM nightly (no performance on Mondays, no matinees)
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“Though I'd never felt it before, I knew it as if it was a second skin, as if something had crawled up and bit me, like something had fallen off a building site and hit me, I knew, I loved you.”

WINNER of the Wal Cherry Award for best new Australian play in 2003, Patricia Cornelius' Love is theatre at its most riveting.

Love is a risky play, and not just because the subject matter is controversial. Cornelius' representation of a lesbian/junkie/prostitute bizarre love triangle might cause outrage among the moral minority, of course, but for the rest of us the danger — post- Trainspotting and post-heroin chic — is that her dark material will seem hackneyed, threadbare. In Cornelius' capable hands, what could have been the last gasp of a genre in decay becomes a miraculous but painful resuscitation. To portray addicts on the skids in a way that doesn't in some form romanticize them, or conversely reduce them to caricatures, is a remarkable achievement that serves Love up raw.

And what love. From the moment it rears its head in this production it's a ravening, carnivorous thing — as insatiable in its appetite as the characters' need for smack. When Annie meets Tanya, they're instantly smitten. But when Tanya is thrown in jail, Annie falls into the arms of Lorenzo. Is there enough love for all of them?