By Adam Rafferty
Both historical and contemporary Indigenous Australian truth-telling forms the basis of writer/director Andrea James’ The Black Woman of Gippsland, an exposition of black deaths in custody that echoes across the white settlement of Australia.
Those who’ve studied the colonisation of Victoria may already be familiar with the story of ‘the white woman of Gippsland’, an allegation made by Scottish explorer and pastoralist Angus McMillan that the Gunaikurnai people encountered in the area now known as Port Albert in Gippsland were supposedly holding a European woman against her will. Accounts at the time had assumed she was one of two women travelling aboard the Britannia, a ship which wrecked on Ninety Mile Beach in 1841. The resultant persecution of the Brataualūng people for what they were imagined to have done is a shameful episode in Australia’s history, making it unsurprising that the story isn’t as well-known as it could be. As a Yorta Yorta/Gunaikurnai woman, James is looking to rectify the situation with this moving piece of theatre.
A century and a half after the poisonous legend was told, this story tells of Jacinta (Chenoa Deemal), a Gunaikurnai academic who is struggling to write a treatise on the subject. She’s resolute in her goal of revealing the truth behind the myth of the ‘white woman’ who supposedly lived among the Brataualūng people in the 1840s, but the process is frustrating. Her professor (Ian Bliss) doesn’t seem to understand that oral history won’t conform to classical written history research deadlines. Meanwhile, her attempts to work at home, a pokey caravan in the backyard of her Auntie Rochelle (Ursula Yovich), are disturbed by her rambunctious cousin Kyle (Zach Blampied) and demands by her Auntie to show more support of the family around the house.
In an effort to find peace and collect her thoughts, Jacinta holes up in a motel haunted by the ghosts of the shipwreck, the white woman and her ancestral people, sparking a missing person report from Rochelle to the local police Sergeant (also Bliss) that exposes wounds far more recently inflicted on her family.
James’ storytelling is brisk and engaging, providing a fascinating narrative to new listeners and contemporising the story for those more familiar. The no-nonsense plot progression does mean that motivations seem a bit abrupt at times, with characters not being given enough time to develop the reasons behind their actions, but it doesn’t risk comprehension and does allow the story to set a cracking pace. Considering this, the cast do a superb job of creating empathy and authenticity in performance, particularly Yovich’s Rochelle, who has to embody the frustration of ages of abuse. Deemal has the tough job of providing the complicated exposition of the story, only faltering momentarily as she imparts the complexities of songlines. Bliss is unwavering in the thankless white roles, including the embodiment of colonial wrongdoers. Blampied is thoroughly charming as cheeky Kyle and performs beautifully with Brent Watkins the traditional dances that also help illustrate the story.
Romanie Harpers sets are brought to stunning life by Rhian Hinkley’s gorgeous AV designs that animate the storytelling most beautifully, and aid in communicating the more complex parcels of information as Jacinta shares them. This is also enhanced by Verity Hampson’s lighting design and James Henry’s sublimely immersive sound.
To explain the full story of the recorded history of the ‘white woman of Gippsland’ here would be to spoil the gut-punch that is James’ denouement, however it is the extra layering that she adds and the Gunaikurnai point of view which makes The Black Woman of Gippsland a compelling tale that rightfully brings new light to this dark corner of Victoria’s past.