Director Margaret Thanos’ The River is moody, poetic and evocative. It’s like watching poetry on stage.

The River opens with Miranda Otto singing, languishing happily through the cabin, lying on the table, completely at home in what turns out to be her new boyfriend’s cabin in the woods. However, this story is a reminder that everyone has a past — a murky one — and being marooned in a cabin in the woods might not be the best idea for a new relationship.

Olivier and Tony Award winner Jez Butterworth’s The River is a puzzle. Are we watching a love story, a ghost story or a murder mystery? And maybe it’s all three. A love that didn’t succeed is like death, isn’t it? The narrative of this drama is not clear, but it is entrancing.

Set across a single night, from sunset to sunrise, the production unfolds within a forest world that shifts almost imperceptibly.

The Man (Ewen Leslie) and The Woman (Otto) are finding their feet in a new relationship, but already the lovers complete each other’s sentences and bicker like an old couple. However, as they share moments from their past, we see shades of darkness — stories edged with something unsettling. Thanos’ past works, Furious Mattress and A Mirror, have touched on this too: moments of uncertainty, edging into fear, that place the audience on edge.

As the story continues, a new woman enters. Andrea Demetriades (the Other Woman) brings a playful, teasing and sexual energy to the role. Whilst it’s not clear who she is — a past lover or one yet to come? We see the subtle differences between the two women and their relationship with The Man.

Leslie is a stoic character, epitomising the mysterious fisherman, especially as he sharpens his knives with a sinister gleam, set to classical ballet music. From gutting a fish to cooking, there are more moments of the cast doing things than speaking. These moments of silence give the audience time to think, question and wonder.

Anna Tregloan’s remote cabin in the middle of the woods is an exposed, open-frame room, allowing the audience to see the surrounding, menacing forest. Damien Cooper’s lighting is spectacular, working in perfect cohesion with Sam Cheng’s soundscapes. The pair create a dark, stormy atmosphere, with loud claps of thunder and flashes of lightning that have the audience jumping in their seats. Cooper cleverly extends light and shadow into the auditorium at key moments, while Cheng’s use of sound feeds into the cavernous space with a slight echo — a nod to the stories echoing over time. The music is dramatic and tense, reflecting the scenery and story.

Cooper notes in our Creator Conversation: “There’s a lot of subtext in The River. The audience could be thinking in a lot of different ways. Everyone could have their own internal monologue about the play.”

The River continues to twist in the mind long after leaving the theatre. What happens throughout the play, let alone at the end, is open to interpretation. This is a play that will result in confessions of “I don’t get it” or questions of “what do you think happened?” It’s theatre to discuss and ponder.

4 stars

Presented by Sydney Theatre Company The River is playing at Bennelong Point, Sydney until 16 May 2026.

Run Time: 80 minutes (no interval)

For tickets visit Sydney Theatre Company