“Good evening, Australia, my name is Margaret, and here is the evening news,” the distinctly female voice intones over the radio as a group of people listen on in shock. “It’s a woman,” one cries, followed by another’s wide-eyed disbelief: “On the wireless!”
Margaret is a fleeting, unseen character in the new SBS series While the Men Are Away, but her presence captures the show’s raison d’être: centring characters whose stories are rarely crucial to a traditional war narrative.
Set on an apple orchard in rural Australia, the playful, fictionalised eight-part dramedy is not interested in battlefield heroics nor the halls of power; rather it’s curious about power itself and what happens when a vacuum is created by the absence of those who normally hoard control.
If the men in Australia are off in Europe and the Pacific during the second world war, then a woman is “allowed” to be a newsreader on the radio or she is “allowed” to run a farm. In essence, she is finally “allowed” to call her own shots. But it’s always more complicated than that, isn’t it?
The orchard at the centre of the drama is run by Frankie (Michela De Rossi), an Italian immigrant who married Harry Whitmore, a man from a respectable local family. Harry has – allegedly – enlisted for the war, and firecracker Frankie and Kathleen (Phoebe Grainer), an Indigenous “domestic”, are joined by two city recruits from the Australian Women’s Land Army: rich girl Gwen (Max McKenna) and naive Esther (Jana Zvedeniuk). There is also Robert (Matt Testro), a conscientious objector with a drawer full of white feathers.
Frankie has a secret. Actually, Frankie has many secrets but chief among them is what really happened to Harry. Her position as farm proprietor is only semi-safe as long as she is Harry’s wife, otherwise she may be rounded up into the prisoner-of-war camp being built on the neighbouring land by Harry’s brother Des (Benedict Hardie), a squirrelly, small-minded man desperate for Frankie’s affections. Des is just one of the threats Frankie and co face, as their would-be paradise comes under pressure from the forces of patriarchy, racism and homophobia. Even with most of the men away, prejudice remains.
![Apple pickers in a line in While the Men Are Away.](https://i.guim.co.uk/img/media/bafc2d1cea027ae2c544e7b53c60d971278c9412/0_0_3543_2363/master/3543.jpg?width=445&dpr=1&s=none)
Like the too-quickly-cancelled streaming reboot of A League of Their Own, with which it shares narrative and thematic similarities, one of the most compelling aspects of While the Men Are Away is the show’s exploration of secreted LGBTQIA+ communities. Frankie has an illicit hook-up partner, which stirs something in Gwen. And through Robert and Des, the show examines notions of traditional Australian masculinity and the damage it can wreak.
There is also a subplot involving the Indigenous experience. Kathleen is underpaid and disregarded, and the spectre of separation from her young brothers is ever-present.
The series’ core creators are largely women, including Kim Wilson, Alexandra Burke and Monica Zanetti, director Elissa Down, producer Lisa Shaunessy and cinematographer Meg White. That translates to While the Men Are Away’s lens, which always foregrounds the outsiders.
The first two episodes are a little wobbly as it tries to settle on a tone that is farcical without being slight. But once the series hits its stride, the jaunty story maintains a springy pacing. And, without realising it, you become invested in the characters. They’re more than just archetypes, even though their individual journeys chart familiar emotional challenges.
Perhaps it is this familiarity that grounds While the Men Are Away as a show with real resonance and one that is fresh in its perspectives and the stories it showcases. And it does so with a cheeky laugh.
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