By Jennifer Beasley
Stories of domestic violence are difficult to tell. Done well, they can be a lighthouse igniting the quest for change, as we continue to see with Rosie Batty, a staunch campaigner against family violence, after her son was murdered by her husband in 2014. We also draw on Australian television series, such as Safe Home by Anna Barnes (2023), and Helen Gardner’s phenomenal novel, This House of Grief (2014), which investigates the murder trial of Robert Farquharson, whose actions caused the death of his three children.
These terrible events, notably Farquharson and in 2008, Arthur Feeman’s murder of his daughter Darcey in 2009, as noted in the playbill, influenced playwright Paul Mitchell to ask, how could anger lead someone to hurt their children? His author’s note states the You’re The Man will take audience on a journey through a relationship of love and anger to discover the red flags, and for survivors, to find their way to healing.
Told in 75 minutes in one act at the cosy La Mama Courthouse, this play flings the audience into the full rage of Mark (Justin Bell) and his wife, Phoebe (Emma Choy), a relationship that lives on the brink of the abyss, as the looming figure of Mark’s deceased father, Reg (writer Paul Mitchell), and their sixteen-year-old son, Liam (Ryland Mitchell) slam towards a tragic ending.
Ryland Michell (Liam), son of Paul Mitchell, does a mean drum introduction. Scene changes marked by his drum tap, builds Liam’s connection to the father. As the play switches back and forth between timelines (masterfully executed by Director Theresa Borg), the influence of Mark, and by association, the ghostly grandfather, bleeds into the present-day boy, whose presence above the stage demonstrates Liam’s sense of isolation. Later, Liam mirrors his father’s own drinking, anger outbursts and emotionally withdrawal.
The play is ambitious, cycling through sixteen years, the flashback scenes offering explanations to why Mark acts the way he does. We start the play with Phoebe giving birth to Liam, (the support actors, Miles Para and Philip Hayden doing a great job in their various roles) as we see the gentle side of Mark, singing sweetly to his newborn son. He is backed by a well-rounded vocal and musical composition done by Simon Mason (who is now on my playlist) which binds this play together. Effort is made to make Mark likeable, as he struggles to put a nappy on, then frustrated, it drops to the floor. And there it remains for the rest of the play. OCD me was itching to run onto the stage and clean it up, but readers will be pleased to hear that I restrained myself. Good thing too, as this item was used as a symbolic device. More on this later.
Then we have a disruptor; a rather bizarre song set that doesn’t add anything to the story. Thankfully, this isn’t repeated, and I managed to recover.
Throughout this play Mark yells, shouts, screams, bangs any object that he can and storms around, out and onto the stage. I admire the frenetic energy to maintain this level of intensity from Justin Bell (I’m sure I felt as exhausted as he must have by the end) yet the subtlety of an emotional build up were lacking. Through flashback scenes there are indications of love bombing, childish outbursts and victim blaming. But these are too few and require careful construction to indicate the insidious nature of domestic violence; how perpetrators attract and maintain control of their family.
For example, the scene where Mark hits Phoebe is done extremely well, thanks to the lighting design (Finnegan Comte-Harvey), and the amazing Movement Consultant (Freya List) and Intimacy Consultant (Eve Morey). This would have had more impact if some restraint was applied to the verbal abuse, leading to this moment, and perhaps some pervious signs of injury, arm bandage etc.
Emma Choy’s range of emotions are heartfelt. As a Survivor she manages to convey the depths of despair in her interactions with Mark, the counsellor, her father (as a monologue) and her son, however, we don’t get to see her resisting, or being gaslighted, belittled and depowered, which would round out her character a bit more.
Now, to return to the nappy. As the play progresses further objects litter the stage-clothes, beer cans and bags. Symbolically, these demonstrate the dissociation of Mark, and potentially of Liam, as he also throws down from his tower a fishing rod. Once I adjusted to this director’s device I thought it worked well, and thanks to Theresa Borg she was able to flesh out this subtext to foreshadow the final act.
The ending is a Shakespearean tragedy, made worse in the knowledge that this play has drawn on real life. Does this play get inside the psyche of a damaged man? I think that question is multidimensional, but I would answer, partly. As this is the premiere, I would say in Paul Mitchell’s own words that this is “a challenging story..for thought in your own lifelong human processes of making, braking and healing relationships.” (La Mama Playbill).
Playing until September 14th at La Mama Courthouse in Carlton, this show displays strong potential.
Image: Darren Gill
