Venue: SBW Stables Theatre (Darlinghurst NSW), Sep 27 – Oct 8, 2022
Playwright: Mel Ree
Cast: Mel Ree
Images by DefinitelyDefne Photography

Theatre review
Mel Ree performs her own writing in Mother May We, a meditation on identity, heritage, aspiration and liberation. A vulnerable collection of thoughts, scant with autobiographical details, placing emphasis instead on the translation of deep personal feelings, into words. It is the essence of Ree’s being that emerges, from these poetic scenes, retaining for the subject a certain mystique, but leaving us a strong impression about the riveting personality we encounter.

With magnetism seeping from every pore, Ree makes an hour in her presence feel a fleeting moment. She charms and delights, with masterful control over her physicality, along with the silkiest of voices, Ree effortlessly but powerfully keeps us under her spell for the entire duration. Her presentation oscillates between humour, poignancy and eccentricity, serving up testimony from the perspective of a queer woman-of-colour on these colonised lands.

Whether flippant or sombre, the tone of Mother May We constantly morphs, but what it reveals is always and only the truth. In allowing that truth to occupy space so absolutely, Ree stands for something radical. There is a transformation that she synthesises, that we are made to be a part of, when we open ourselves to the autonomy of her storytelling. The audience is forever changed, as a result of encountering a soul, so insistent and so defiant, in the assertion of something that can only be described as the artist’s sense of authenticity.

The poetry is enhanced by an intricate sound design by Steven Khoury, who twists and turns our sensibilities, so that we connect with the various dimensions of quirkiness, that Ree brings forth so gregariously. Lights by Frankie Clarke and video by Nema Adel, mesmerise and titillate, much like the star of the show, full of surprises, and always with an underlying but distinct air of glamour.

It is perhaps the job of feminism, to wrestle with uncertainty and that which is undecided, because convenient answers have proven to only serve hegemonies that we know to rile against. In Mother May We things seem to be in flux, seeking for destinations that we discover ultimately to be further transitory points. It is our idiosyncrasies, that we should learn to honour. To cultivate a capacity for individuality in our humanity, and to resist that which demands uniformity and conformity. Feminism holds us at every inevitable occasion of chaos, when we are able to get to the truth, and it teaches us to be apprehensive, when things fall too neatly into tidy little boxes.

www.griffintheatre.com.au

Venue: SBW Stables Theatre (Darlinghurst NSW), Aug 19 – Sep 23, 2022
Playwright: Dylan Van Den Berg
Director: Declan Greene, Amy Sole
Cast: Callan Purcell, Guy Simon
Images by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
It was the dawn of colonisation, somewhere on this land now known as Australia. Teenagers Neddy and Ty, mountain mob and river mob respectively, would meet at every moon to exchange information, on what the white man is up to, as indications point to their presence beginning to seem a threatening one. Dylan Van Den Berg’s sensational new play, Whitefella Yella Tree tells a multi-faceted story of great importance, with scintillating humour, extraordinary tenderness, and shattering poignancy. Everything one could possibly ask of a playwright, Van Den Berg delivers, through the greatest of acuity and sophistication.

As a work of romance, Whitefella Yella Tree is likely one of the most moving pieces to encounter. Its narrative ventures into the sweetest terrains of innocent young love, only to deal a devastating blow, when it all goes wrong, for two characters we had fallen hopelessly for, from the very first minute. Furthermore, politically, and socially, what the play is able to articulate, are perhaps some of the most pertinent and urgent messages of our time, presented with unparalleled clarity, yet bears the elegance necessary to make the tough pill easy to swallow.

Van Den Berg demonstrates the real power of theatre, as a communal space of imagination and creativity, capable of creating meaning, understanding and consensus. Away from the grips of capitalism, in auditoriums still deemed to be sacred, we congregate to share vulnerabilities and seek truths, and in the case of Whitefella Yella Tree it all happens in only 90 magical minutes.

Declan Greene and Amy Sole are co-directors, marvellous at turning word to flesh, so that we can be thoroughly immersed with all our senses, into the astonishing world of Neddy and Ty, and everything their story represents. Greene and Sole bring incredible detail to the presentation, with resonances to be discovered everywhere our attention resides. The show says so much yet, quite incredibly, Greene and Sole ensure that we are able to absorb it all, helping us form comprehension about each and every issue being raised. Additionally, the show is full of irresistible charm, effortless at eliciting laughter and tears, for an experience as intense with the emotions it provokes, as it does the ideas it inspires.

Designed by Mason Browne, the set evokes our mountainscapes with little fuss, and makes a statement about territories being stolen, through a visual emphasis on the very portion of earth, on which the titular tree stands. Browne’s costumes are a delightful expression of Indigenous youth identities, choosing contemporary garb over speculations on what might have been, ironically brings authenticity to the personalities we meet. Lights by Kelsey Lee and Katie Sfetkidis, along with sound and music by Steve Toulmin, manufacture high drama for key revelatory moments, utilising the theatrical form to full effect, addressing both our instincts and intellect, in a show that requires us to think and feel, at every juncture.

Brilliantly performed by Callan Purcell as Ty, and Guy Simon as Neddy, the pair brings vigorous life to the stage, riotously mischievous at every opportunity. Bringing new meaning to the word “play” in a theatrical context, the two are infectious with their unbridled joy, as they discover the first pangs of passion and lust, in a decolonised tale about boys in love. As the story darkens, the gravity they introduce becomes unequivocally sombre and palpable, with a soulfulness that defies any attempt to disconnect, from all that they wish to impart.

The process of decolonisation may involve a conceptual returning to the times before, but it mostly involves reinvention and imagination. It requires that we interrogate values that are harmful to all who are Indigenous to this land, and seek ways to have them amended, remembering in the process that to address the injustice on Indigenous peoples, will always result in the aggregate progress of all on this land. We simply must no longer accept, that the displacement and disadvantaging of any minority, is a necessary evil for us to sustain a sense of nationhood. A new identity is being forged, and the colonial ways need to be eradicated.

www.griffintheatre.com.au

Venue: SBW Stables Theatre (Darlinghurst NSW), Jun 24 – Jul 30, 2022
Playwright: Merlynn Tong
Director: Tessa Leong
Cast: Merlynn Tong, Charles Wu
Images by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
Girl, 14 and Boy, 21 find themselves orphaned upon their mother’s suicide. Having only each other to depend on, the two quickly grow closer, in a social vacuum that sees the wayward older sibling exercise increasingly undue influence on the innocent teen. Merlynn Tong’s Golden Blood takes place in late 90s Singapore, where unlawful gang activities, of which Boy was a committed member, were still making the news. In fear of bringing embarrassment to their family legacy, the young pair hatch creative but corruptive plans to make their fortune, on a land that places veneration on all things gold.

Tong’s writing is exciting and exceptionally colourful. Much of the dialogue in Golden Blood is in Singlish, but the “creole” is carefully crafted, in order that standard English speakers are not left behind. The humour in Tong’s work is thoroughly scintillating, with a broad appeal that transcends cultures. Furthermore the incorporation of Australia as a symbol for Girl’s escapism and ambitions, helps position the play at a point that gives psychological access to viewers here. As the stakes escalate in its narrative, Golden Blood turns melodramatic in a way that some might find alienating, but its concluding moments are unquestionably moving.

Directed by Tessa Leong, the show although never sanctimonious, is an intense and urgent exploration of modern youth. Replete with energy and an unmistakeable air of anxiety, we are compelled from the very start to invest in this unusual coming-of-age tale, of good intentions gone bad. There are slight incongruities with the inclusion of smartphones and certain clothing items, that can cause momentary confusion regarding the era being discussed, but they are ultimately a negligible oversight.

Set and costumes by Michael Hankin are efficiently rendered, and appropriately simple. In tandem with Fausto Brusamolino’s exuberant lights, visual aspects of the production are dynamic, and effective at keeping the audience in a state of consistent tension and tautness. Sound and music by Rainbow Chan are similarly spirited, with cross-cultural influences that convey a valuable complexity, in relation to time and place for this story.

Tong herself takes on the role of Girl, profoundly moving as the misguided ingénue, but also disarmingly hilarious with her exquisite comic timing. Boy is played by Charles Wu, fantastic with the animated physicality and incredible voice he brings to the part. Their chemistry as a team is unbelievably flawless. Both actors bring a marvellous sense of depth to the characters they inhabit, allowing Golden Blood to venture into outlandish and wondrous spaces, without compromising even a fragment on authenticity.

When the definition of success is narrowed down to mean little more than material wealth, the result is an existence that can only ever be empty or exasperating. Girl and Boy were never taught right ways to be, not by their families, and not by the wider communities of which they belong. All they perceive are superficial markers of happiness, designed mostly to obfuscate and not reveal the truth. In Golden Blood we see, that the truth is persistent, even when we try hard to avoid it, and to honour it, is perhaps the only meaningful way to be.

www.griffintheatre.com.au

Venue: SBW Stables Theatre (Darlinghurst NSW), Nov 5 – Dec 11, 2021
Playwright: Kendall Feaver
Director: Tessa Leong
Cast: Tony Cogin, Emily Havea, Mark Paguio, Jane Phegan, Fiona Press, Julia Robertson
Images by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
When Paige Hutson is raped in her own room, barely a week into life as a fresher at one of Australia’s oldest residential colleges, it becomes apparent that sexual assault on campus is exceedingly commonplace, and that entrenched mechanisms purporting to deal with these egregious trespasses serve only to protect the system, and not the victims. Kendall Feaver’s “Wherever She Wanders” is a strangely polite look at how a young feminist Nikki Faletau navigates her activism, within the conservative walls of a structure that is perhaps the most patriarchal of all our institutions.

The play’s ideas are modern, but not radical by any stretch of the imagination. It may even seem to occasionally be sitting on the fence, in its attempts to prevent characters from turning caricature. While “Wherever She Wanders” may not convey the incendiary passion often associated with political movements of our time, it certainly paints a cogent picture of the dynamics at play. Feaver takes a lot of care to map out many issues unearthed by that one horrific incident, but it is debatable if the granularity at which it examines them is necessary, at a time when matters of this nature are already stringently scrutinised in so much of  our discourse.

Staging of the piece is humorous and jaunty. Directed by Tessa Leong, the show never fails to feel spirited, with an excellent attention to energy levels, aided by the commendable work contributed by designers, most notably Govin Ruben on lights, and James Brown on sound and music. “Wherever She Wanders” is engaging at every juncture, if slightly deficient in terms of the intellectual rigour, that a narrative of this nature should be able to provide.

Presented by an amiable cast, with the vivacious Emily Havea as lead, bringing a valuable intensity to the earnest advocate Nikki. It is her vitality that gives the production, and the topics of discussion, a sense of authenticity and gravity. Her adversary Jo Mulligan is College Master, and feminist from a bygone era. Played by Fiona Press, who demonstrates great empathy for the role, inviting us to think about the way gatekeepers operate in our daily lives. Actor Julia Robertson does marvellously to deliver for Paige, an abundance of complexity and nuance, so that we may locate both agency and integrity for a young woman in danger of being defined solely by an instance of violation.

Whether one believes that the systems have become broken through the ravages of time, or that the systems were always designed to fail so many of us, one should already have come to the conclusion that it seems only drastic measures, can address all the foundational and fundamental problems that plague our traditional institutions. We observe Nikki’s persistence as she goes about trying to change things, but there is no evidence that the complaints and conversations she participates in, ever result in significant progress. Where there is power imbalance, the subjugated always runs the risk of being patronised. As long as the powerful remain in charge, there is never any incentive for them to do anything more than to pretend to listen. Change does occasionally occur however, and persistence seems the only tool that the disadvantaged an hang on to, aside from the ever-present fantasy of  torching the whole place down.

www.griffintheatre.com.au