This is a superb play, beautifully performed.
Written by Declan Furber Gillick and directed by Mark Wilson, it’s the story of an indigenous man navigating between (what might be called, in the broadest sense) black and white cultures. But it’s also a deeply humane exploration of the concept of identity, and a magnificent example of the richness of the dramatic form.
Jacky lives in the city, far away from his family, and from his country. He rents a one bedroom place, but he’s making good money, and hopes soon to buy. He’s good-hearted and well-liked.
Because of some mischief at home, little brother Keith comes to couch surf. The contrast between the brothers is wonderfully, and hilariously, realised: Jacky the epitome of mature, common-sense responsibility, and Keith all youthful, high-spirited indolence. When pushed to finally find a job – the sort you’re expected to turn up to every day – Keith says wouldn’t the old fellas laugh at us. True that may be, but a longing for the pre-colonial way of life at this point in the play seems merely a risible excuse for lazy self-indulgence.
But Keith’s presence alerts us to how little Jacky knows about what’s actually going on back at home. What sort of life is he making for himself in town?
Follow the money. One source of income for Jacky is a traineeship he has with employment agency Segue. They want him on the books because, being black, he helps them maintain funding. His other source of income is as a rent boy. Even here, his identity is a selling point.
He’s a black man prostituting himself to white society. But it’s not a heavy-handed metaphor; rather, it’s a set-up that positions Jacky’s story as ideal for telling in the dramatic form.
But before I unpack that, let me talk about the performances. Guy Simon as Jacky is electrifying, perfectly embodying a gentleness that is suggestive of the many sources of that complex behaviour: confidence and intelligence, fear and despair. Danny Howard as Keith is brilliant: high-energy, fast-paced vocals coupled with a physical lethargy creates a tremendous portrait of the tension between youthful hopes and uncertainties. Mandy McElhinney’s Linda is pleasingly soft-spoken, reasonable, generous – and sublimely unaware of (or unconcerned with) the knottiness of Jacky’s position. It’s a stealthy and unsettling portrait of the white ally. Greg Stone as Glenn, one of Jacky’s clients who’s exploring some rather disturbing sexual fantasies, offers a powerful and utterly truthful mix of awkwardness, shame and brutality. It’s very funny, until it’s shockingly not.
Back to my comments about the use of the dramatic form. Presented in concrete, believable situations, and in deliciously natural dialogue, the resonances, echoes and parallels in the script are gloriously evocative: Jacky focusses on Keith’s supposed uncleanliness in a way that disturbingly echoes a client’s racist abuse; potential supporters of the employment agency seem overly interested in the gender of the Indigenous participants, recalling the sexual interest of Jacky’s late night customers; both Linda and Jacky compromise themselves for property, while other (offstage) indigenous characters are concerned with the integrity of country; Linda thanks Jacky for playing along, while Glenn thanks him for his role-playing in the bedroom; and, perhaps most perturbingly for a majority white audience, this particular racist client has a fascination with the art created by marginalised peoples.
Parallels and resonances aside, the fundamental tension driving the piece is that everybody wants Jacky to embrace his identity – just in different ways, and for very different reasons. One of the most painful and poignant moments in the play is when a fellow indigenous person tells him to get back in your box, Jacky. The reprimand he receives is completely deserved, and though my phrase isn’t the one used, it hints at an aspect of identity often overlooked.
What is identity? A case could be made that it’s a response of our psychological immune system. When we’re endangered, we make an identity. It’s a strength in times of trouble, but redundant in times of calm. (One of the things that binds Jacky’s family together is a shared love of Country and Western music. And, as Glenn says, that’s crying music.) Perhaps the fostering of identity is a type of honourable strategic withdrawal? (I’m not suggesting Furber Gillick’s script asserts this, but as a splendidly sophisticated piece of writing, it got me thinking. The final line of the play was a particular stimulus to this train of thought. Due to the spoiler rule, I can’t repeat that line, but it was the sort of declaration of defiance one makes most often in retreat. Accordingly, it was simultaneously inspiring and saddening.)
Jacky is an outstanding piece of theatre, composed with humour that entertains, honesty that engages, and sorrow that humanises.
Paul Gilchrist
Jacky by Declan Furber Gillick
Produced by Melbourne Theatre Company
At Belvoir as part of the Sydney Festival until Feb 2
Image by Stephen Wilson Barker
Theatre Red 