Intergenerational friction, Carry On-style bawdiness and ecocide-era despair collide in Naturism, playwright Ang Collins’s mainstage debut – an 85-minute, bare-all comedy set on a remote bush block somewhere in Victoria.

For the past few decades, three Gen-X naturists have been building an off-grid utopia among the gum trees, convinced they’re living sustainably and in harmony with Mother Earth.

Here, they are free – free to pursue their dreams, free to be gloriously naked. Yet for a community founded on freedom, it’s curiously rule-bound, thanks mostly to commune leader Ray (Glen Hazeldine), a former CEO turned guru who has codified his wisdom into a tome of commandments known as The Thingy.

Hannah Waterman and Nicholas Brown in Naturism. Photo © Brett Boardman

Resident philosopher Sid (Nicholas Brown) finds comfort in the rules, his zeal for order making him Ray’s ideal and indefatigable disciple.

But for Helen (Hannah Waterman), a former performance artist now marooned in a loop of craft projects and birdwatching, the idyll has gone stale. After years estranged from her creative life – and from the messy, alluring chaos of the city – she’s ready to reach for her stash of hallucinogenic mushrooms. After all, there’s only so much joy to be wrung from weaving hats for the same three people.

Disruption, novelty and terror arrives in the form of Evangeline (Camila Ponte Alvarez), a burned-out twenty-something Instagram celeb. She wants to stay, recover, process the abundant contradictions of her content-making … but according to The Thingy, “intruders” are not welcome. 

Can Evangeline convince the naturists that she’s genuine? Can Ray, Sid and Helen even understand a word she’s saying?

Nicholas Brown, Hannah Waterman, Glenn Hazeldine, Camila Ponte Alvarez and Fraser Morrison in Naturism. Photo © Brett Boardman

Performed almost entirely in the nude, Naturism is a comic essay in exposure — of bodies, yes, but more so of delusion: that one can wall oneself off from a collapsing world, transcend the rabble through enlightenment, or attain authenticity via viral fame.

Collins’s writing is funniest when skewering the contradictions of idealism and self-importance, and under Declan Greene’s brisk direction the gags come thick and fast. Manic pacing and some underdone staging sometimes undercuts the play’s sharper insights, however, and around the hour mark, Naturism hits the doldrums. A late-revealed subplot from Ray’s corporate past feels like an encumberance.

Still, the cast are all deft comic players and they find pathos in the brief moments of stillness granted to them. In one almost poignant scene, Evangeline and newcomer Adam (Fraser Morrison) – a would-be rapper-entrepreneur – offer us a glimpse of Edenic calm amid the absurdity.

Maybe it’s in these moments that Naturism earns its most resonant truth: that nakedness, whether literal or moral, is never as simple as it seems.

Naturism plays at the Wharf 2 Theatre, Sydney Theatre Company Walsh Bay until 15 November.