By Jennifer Beasley.
When you walk along the hopeless pit between salvation and redemption, how do you muster the courage to still the war inside yourself, and be free of the Yellow Line?
I love stories of redemption, especially based upon true events, and when the power of the Haka, the Māori war dance, is used to inspire and turn around the lives of five prisoners in the soon to be defunct maximum security Port Phillip Prison in Victoria, you know you are going to share a cultural and spiritual journey that is life changing.
Pacific and First Nations offenders are disproportionately reflected in our prison systems, which are often seen as institutions that strip cultural identities to make prisoners ‘fit in’ with little or no means to redeem themselves.
Brought to the stage by the Essence Theatre Productions (ETP) and Ngā Mātai Pūrua Inc. (NMP), this production over three days at Wyndham Cultural Centre is based on ex-prison guard and now NMP president Tyson Tuala’s experiences teaching the Haka to a group of dispirited and disinterested prisoners as a bridge to connect them to culture, family and their own lost humanity.
Co-written and directed by Berne-Lee “Nana” Edwards (NMP) and Alaine Beek (ETP), The Yellow Line, a reference to both a physical and metaphorical line that separates guards from the inmates, tells the story of Jordan (played by Kodie Heremia), a young Pasifka guard, who is tasked with teaching the Haka as part of a funding initiative by the prison system, while at the same time grappling with his own emotional struggles concerning the effectiveness of his teaching methods, and disillusion with the prison system. Faced with only five prisoners, after the initial interest of thirty inmates has whittled down, Jordan’s herculean task seems insurmountable as he faces three Māori, one white and one SriLankan prisoner, who are cajoled and promised the high stakes that they can perform the Haka to their families and friends, as well as becoming a show piece to the Governor and various dignitaries.
Kodie Heremia is phenomenal in this role. His experience as the dance leader of T’Honi, the Melbourne based Māori traditional dance group, is displayed with his comfort and presence on stage. And boy, does this man’s power in his masculinity shows through when he demonstrates both his softer side when he greets his fellow female prison guard, played by Bronwynne Adeang, using the traditional Hongi nose to nose greeting which also shows respect and care, to the air vibrating, chest thumping and visual feast that is the Haka.
With a cast of nine, and only three of them trained, there are some flat spots in this performance. In particular, the first forty minutes, where some of the direction of moving desks and chairs becomes wearing, and I felt this could have been better served by leaving these set pieces to the side, unstacked. Music also would have underscored the cultural message as well, swelling at pivotal points as a reinforcement of the themes.
However, after a short intermission, the pace picks up. We learn that the colonial representation of the male guard Mikey (Ross Daniels doing a star worthy turn and a talent that never fails to disappoint) and the Warden (Phil Cameron-Smith who lends authentic statue) both have hidden frustrations of their own yet seem helplessly burdened by the judicial system.
With a snapping wit and humour there are plenty of laughs to be found. Yet the script maintains control, never letting you forget that this is a maximum-security prison. Cam Ven really shines here in his role as the white inmate who has no anchoring culture, drifting murderously through life, desperately trying to find meaning. A stellar performance by DJ Ahipene as TJ, a sweet and talkative prisoner, takes a dark and frightening turn as the weight of his mental illness initiates a dangerous situation. Good natured Thisara Hewamanne bonds with Cam Ven’s character as the two outsiders yet depicts the welcoming and inclusive nature of Pacific Islander culture under Jordan’s tutorage. Elijah Logo does an amazing job as he struggles to cope with his shame around illiteracy, while Wiremu Morris as Kai is the older strongman and who comes into his own true power as a leader.
There is a lost moment of tension as the Yellow Line is laid down on the stage – a chance to really initiate conflict, yet nothing comes of it. It’s a pity as this would have made more dramatic sense and been ultimately more satisfying as the prisoners’ grapple with their internal war of redemption versus anarchy.
The final minutes of the play gives rise to the most incredible performance of the Haka I have ever seen, resulting in the mainly Māori audience giving a standing ovation. As a bonus, once the audience left, I remained to hear a female prison guard speak to the actors and crew on stage where, to honour her, both men and women performed the Haka. Incredible.
I hope that this production can tour so that others can see this performance. Where I live in the south-east of Melbourne, the local secondary school has introduced the Haka to the students in a bid to reconnect them to culture but also to give any teen the chance to empower themselves and deal with the ‘big emotions’ that can be released by the Haka. It is rare that a play can facilitate change and I certainly feel that The Yellow Line is one of those.
Highly recommended.
Image: Cameron Grant
