Danny and The Deep Blue Sea

Anna Sokolova
Jan 26
4 min read

Updated: Jan 28

Old Fitz Theatre, Sydney, 13 January - 1 February & a week of extension, 2026

The review

Set up in the Bronx in the 80th, which reads from the description and then from the strong and well-held accents, but nothing else. It is an extremely (I mean it) intense, violent, loud, and deeply lyrical two-hander play. Soaked in desperation at first, it transforms by the most mighty leap of faith, launched off the fear to trust again to hope that love and happiness will defeat despondency.

That brought up a memory. In 90th in Moscow and all across Russia, when the country broke apart, the system crashed, the values dispersed, the system was being rebuilt by those in power with money, agility to adapt, lack of principles, a massive new way of playwriting emerged (“New Drama”, in a literal translation). For more than a decade, and with a legacy that still stays strong and is being followed now, it was a blooming time for stories about lost, desperate, invisible people. Basically, the Gogol’ and then Checkov’ and more from Russian literature, stories about “small people” got transformed into a new reality.

Such a familiar subject on desperation and loneliness in people in their 30th. Those who expected to settle and find themselves, instead being broken, pushed out to the slams of society, and yet, people. “Danny and the Deep Blue Sea” is somewhat close to that.

A young woman, Roberta, is sitting at the simple wooden bar table, alone. There is one more table nearby, a couple of chairs, and nothing else. Silence. She is wearing a bright red top and jeans. She is slowly sipping beer, munching on small pieces of something.

A moment, a guy, Danny, is slamming in, throwing a jug of beer on his table, the shirt is undone, his knuckles are bleeding, he is consumed by rage - her attention moved swiftly to him.

Boiling, bursting with unfinished sentences to himself, restless, he is radiating danger. Loud, raw, violent, at the edge of exposure. He feels like he has a shell covered with sharp fighting blades. No one is allowed to get close to. He sits, placing elbows wide, shoulders up, as a bull ready to attack.

In turn, Roberta is surreally unharmed. She can get close unscathed. She provokes him, checking the ground, she talks about small things, swinging deep into something dark and to her mind dirty, shockingly opened to such a stranger.

She is a weaponed niether by her experience with men, nor by her charm. She is armed with an absolute lack of fear. She is consumed by her deeply burning desire to escape and be punished at the same time. Playing with fire is her way to cope.

It is all in her eyes. Tiny built, she sometimes feels like there is no body there at all, only her look, changing from provocative to poking, playful, sad, questioning, indifferent, aggressive, soft, plotting. Her facial features are those of a perfect drawing crafted with thin pencil lines.

Danny is the direct opposite; he all is his body. His face - cannot see it at the most tense moments. Always looking down, heavy fringe over eyes, mean-mugging with every sentence spat out rather than spoken.

Both actors are tuned to the matching tonality. The relationships between their characters are arranged as a primal dance, with no clarity about who is catching whom. Danny throws his sentences, Roberta replies momentarily synching with the mood. Jacqui Purvis @jacquipurvis & JK Kazzi @jkkazzi perform the fine-tuned directions exquisitely.

Connecting with recurring replies of ‘me neither’ first, and transitioning to ‘me too’ as the night goes along. The little Roberta’s room, a mattress on the floor as an island, hides them both. Roberta chooses to play a game. “Let’s be romantic, say nice things to each other, like - I love you, - I love you too”, and drag Danny in.

What is happening next is a miracle.

Roberta, in her silky turquoise-blue beautiful nightdress, telling her dream about a deep blue ocean and whales, without wishing it herself, spellbinds Danny, the room, and me, too. A tidal wave of tenderness, softness, and a desperate, long-time suppressed desire to trust are bubbling to the surface, changing how these two humans talk, stand, touch each other. Danny’s clumsiness in saying words like “gentle” or “beautiful” is a heart-ache touchy. Roberta plays well, but Danny steps in cautiously. Their dialogues are very funny at times. Danny is trying hard to assemble compliments for Roberta: “you are good looking!”, snapping to her: “no I am not!” with “shut up! I have not finished yet!”

It is finished with heavily spiked emotions, at the entrance of something none of them been before, where they brought themselves by a mighty courage gained in a suddenly reincarnated hope. It is heartfelt.