Kate Mulvany is a regular in Australian theatre productions, both on stage and behind the scenes. As an actor she has played everyone from Cassius to Lady Macbeth. As a writer she has adapted novels such as Jasper Jones and The Harp in the South for the stage. Her latest gig is with the Pinchgut Opera’s production of Dido and Aeneas, for which Mulvany has penned a new spoken-word prologue – adding helpful context to the tragic love story.
In her personal and professional lives, Mulvany relies on one trusty object to get her through the day: a shillelagh, or type of walking stick. Here the performer tells us about that essential handcrafted item, as well as the stories of two other important belongings.
What I’d save from my house in a fire
A few years ago, after badly fracturing my spine, my specialist told me I needed a “staff” to take the pressure off my back when I stood for long periods of time. I thought by “staff” he meant “team of people”. When I asked him to clarify how many people, he said, “No. A staff. Like a wizard.” Which is actually a bloody wondrous thing to hear after you’ve broken your back – very empowering.
Anyway, I took my doctor’s orders and I contacted my dear mate Dan Spielman, who is not just a sublime actor but also a master craftsman. He made me this badass shillelagh – a kind of Irish cudgel – out of recycled blackwood that apparently came from the speaker’s box of the original Parliament House in Canberra. Engraved on Bessie is my favourite [adapted] quote from Shakespeare’s Richard III: “Curtail’d of fair proportion.” Because both Bessie and I are a little bit wonky. And proudly so.
My most useful object
My shopping cart on wheels – or “Nonna”, as I like to call her.
My partner and I recently moved to Yarraville [in Melbourne], which has everything you want in one small strip: the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker kinda thing. Almost all of them are locally owned.
I delight in dragging my darling Nonna from shop to shop to get all manner of fresh produce, gelato, books, flowers, vino. By the time we get home, Nonna is bulging with local wares … and not a plastic bag in sight. She’s a tough old girl and I know we’ll have many years of shopping local ahead of us. Please do say ciao if you see us.
The item I most regret losing
When I was a kid, I was quite unexpectedly diagnosed with renal cancer while on holiday in Perth. In those days the Princess Margaret Children’s hospital in Western Australia used to take a photo of the child and their parents to paperclip inside the patient’s handwritten medical file. The picture they took of my mother, Glenys, and I, mere moments after diagnosis, was black and white. Both of us are staring straight down the lens. My three-year-old face is tear-stained and furious. My 28-year-old mum looks utterly bewildered yet ethereally beautiful.
For years that picture remained in my medical file at the hospital, and I saw it every time they opened it up at my subsequent treatments and check-ups. Each time I saw it it meant we’d managed to get through another day, another week, another year. It became a symbol of hope and determination.
A few years ago, I asked for my PMH paperwork to be sent to me in Sydney. I received all of the handwritten files but the photo was no longer attached. Just a paperclip mark of where it had once lived. I was told the photo of me and Mum had been lost or destroyed. I wish so much I could have it back. I’d frame all that bewilderment and fury and hang it on a wall as a reminder that hope, resilience and beauty can be found even in the darkest of moments.
Pinchgut Opera’s production of Dido and Aeneas is at Sydney’s City Recital Hall from 30 May to 3 June 2024
