By Jennifer Beasley
Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright
In the forest of the night (William Blake)
I Hope This Means Something is the quest that Writer/Performer/Producer Patrick Livesey’s character, Corinthian, sets out to answer. A brilliantly written one-act play, this monologue hangs themes of climate change and the mental toll it inflicts upon them in a seventy-minute tour de force at The Loft (Chapel off Chapel Theatre).
Underpinning these themes runs the thread of isolation. Corinthian’s desire to be loved, their complicated relationship with their mother and their belief from her that they are special and destined to change the world, transpires into a deeply flawed character, one whose hopes and passions are often not fully understood by their colleagues, although, in turn, Corinthian also seems to misstep social interactions.
This is most notable with Corinthian’s frantic speech, interspersed with rapid movement. As a counterpoint, Livesey segways into seven other characters, using their superb physicality to transform into their chain smoking mother, Corinthian as a child, their boss Grace, work colleague (and crush) Evan, a brief romantic interlude with a man who questions why he is working at 2am, school teacher friend of their mother- Jarv, Ari from a South Pacific island threatened by rising waters, and even a worker in a field. Whew! But not once did I feel confused. Quick scene changes and expeditious flashbacks build and round out the characters and their intentions.
The director, Benjamin Nichol, has done a remarkable job in supporting Livesey’s vision. The pacing is excellent, the use of humour offsets the darker moments, and this shading of light and dark perfectly aligns with the black and white tile pattern on the carpeted floor. M’ck McKeague has dressed the set with potted plants and garden furniture, which act as both the passion of Corinthian’s mother and as a symbol of climate change. A nod to Corinthian’s costume too, a simple assemblage of yellow stripped t-shirt and red pants, a reflection of the themes in this production. Supported by seductive lighting from Natalia Yelasco Moreno, and a solid sound background from Ethan Hunter, this performance also intersperses video (by Lara Gabourt) of Livesey and occasional psychedelic trees projected towards the theatre rear, all of which aids in building towards dramatic tension and adds as visual cues to Corinthian’s degrading mental state.
Through evocative language, Livesey paints a descriptive world. Corinthian, a degree in communication burning in their mind, finds their feet working as a media expert with a research-based climate change organisation in Melbourne. Here we see Corinthian’s passions ignite. They overstep boundaries, frequently veers off course from directives from their boss, Grace, and read more into Evan’s conversations than they should. Corinthian’s eager passions grow. They become fixated on climate change protests, in particular, self-immolation. Corinthian’s manic disposition roars into life. The Tyger is released.
Livesey punctuates their performance with references to self-immolation as a form of protest. Self-immolation is not regarded as suicide, rather, as per the Buddhist dogma, it is done to highlight the concept of burning with compassion, as an act to save humanity. References to Thich Quang Duc, the Vietnamese Buddhist monk whose protest was immortalised in a famous photograph during the Vietnamese war, and David Buckel (died 2018) and Win Bruce (2022), we watch, tense with expectation, as Corinthian runs wildly with this concept. They are the train about to crash into the dam wall. The dread is palpable, and my sweaty palms not attributed to the warmer night! However, as a writer, Livesey is the perfect master of directing the audience where they wish. Our Tyger has a few tricks in their tail, as the audience is whiplashed towards an unexpected direction entirely.
Ruminations on the effects of grief, the dangers of isolation, and the underlying message of waking up to climate change or it will consume us and this green world we share with so many life forms, is the kernel of this play. As Jav says at the end, ‘hope through action’ is the only way forward. Wake up. Action. There is only one life that Livesey says we must grasp, we must live, even if it means you become a Tyger to do so.
I Hope This Means Something performed at Chapel Off Chapel until October 13th.
Image: Jacinta Oaten
