Our Monster’s Name is Jerry is a hauntingly visceral and deeply moving production that lingers in the mind long after the final blackout. Amy May Nunn’s writing is sharp and unflinching, delving into themes of fear, grief, and the weight of the future with a gothic horror twist that is both unsettling and profoundly human.
The narrative follows Lou and Maude, a couple navigating the emotional and financial exhaustion of multiple failed IVF attempts. Their struggles intensify when they inherit a house from a distant relative, an inheritance that initially appears to be a lifeline but soon reveals itself to be a far more sinister burden. The couple attempts to assimilate into their eerily perfect new neighbourhood, but their domestic dreams are rapidly unraveled by the disturbing presence of Jerry—a creature residing within their home that is both grotesque and tragically familiar.
The script masterfully weaves horror with social commentary, forcing the audience to confront the anxieties surrounding fertility, bodily autonomy, and the creeping dread of an uncertain future. The monster, Jerry, is not simply a supernatural presence but a deeply symbolic entity, representing the weight of personal and societal expectations, past traumas, and the psychological toll of relentless disappointment.
Each performer delivered a raw and emotive portrayal, bringing incredible depth and richness to their characters. Em Jevons (Lou) and Laura Jane Turner (Maude) had an undeniable chemistry, making their struggles feel achingly real. Amanda LaBonté, in her dual roles as Aunt Wendy and Barb, shifted effortlessly between humour and unease, adding another layer to the play’s eerie atmosphere. However, the absolute standout was Tomas Parrish as Jerry. Their performance was nothing short of extraordinary. Parrish brought a rare and electrifying depth to the role, embodying Jerry with a perfect blend of terror and vulnerability. They commanded the stage with an intensity that was both chilling and heartbreaking, seamlessly shifting between moments of menacing presence and profound sorrow. Their physicality, expressions, and even the silences in between spoke volumes, creating a performance that was utterly captivating and unforgettable.
Director Alanah Guiry’s vision was fully realised through a production that balanced psychological horror with deep emotional resonance. The use of space and silence amplified tension, while Thomas Roach’s lighting design masterfully played with shadow and contrast to create an atmosphere of creeping dread. Savanna Wegman’s set and costume design, along with Maya Anderson’s contributions, built an environment that felt both otherworldly and unnervingly familiar, enhancing the unsettling nature of the piece.
Beyond its horror elements, Our Monster’s Name is Jerry is a poignant commentary on the anxieties of planning for an uncertain future. It speaks to the fears that come with change, responsibility, and the expectations placed upon us, making it as thematically powerful as it is visually and emotionally striking. The play’s brilliance lies in its ability to make the audience empathise with its characters while simultaneously unsettling them, leaving them questioning what truly constitutes a monster.
This is a production that does not shy away from its unsettling themes, and the content warnings should be taken seriously. However, for those who love theatre that challenges, disturbs, and ultimately moves them, this is an unmissable experience. Dirty Pennies and Geelong Arts Centre’s Creative Engine have crafted a truly exceptional work, and Amy May Nunn’s voice in contemporary theatre is one that demands to be heard.
