Black Pearl Of A Play
Sydney Morning Herald
Tuesday June 9, 1998
WELCOME TO BROOME
Belvoir Street Theatre, June 6
BROOME is acquiring a mythical aura. Like Vegas, Paris and Timbuktu, it is no longer just a dot on the map; it's a destination in the mind, symbolising freedom somewhere far away. A place to which people flee, arriving at the other end to discover most of their emotional baggage has travelled with them.
At interval, I was reminded of the structural shortfalls compromising Bran Nue Dae, a cheerful work whose success has been driven more by enthusiasm than discernment. And it's true: a little something is missing from the first half of Welcome To Broome. It's all mood, hinting at, rather than hitting on, big themes. Even a bit more pace could help.
The good news is that it has all been stored up for the second half. Not the ideal design strategy, but that doesn't stop this play, by the end, from bowling you over.
Welcome To Broome is set in the yard of an old pearl-diver's house. A young Aboriginal woman, Chrissy (Margaret Harvey), is living with her white muso husband, Rob (Desmond Connellan), and a small child. There's a happy neighbour in Charlene (Sher Williams-Hood). Other characters come and go, black and white, some blood-connected, creating one big, casually extended family.
However, all is not well with the marriage. While nothing much is said at first, we feel the tension in this finely nuanced production by Michael Gow.
One night, Ferris (Geoff Kelso) turns up, a no-hoper fleeing a series of catastrophic life choices. He is an old friend of Rob, less so of Chrissy. Just before interval, we have news of a death in Chrissy's family. They must pack up and leave for Fitzroy Crossing, leaving Ferris and Charlene to mind the house. Not long after, a sick white man from Perth staggers into the yard.
Soon after interval, the many submerged motifs are pulled to the surface and this play quickly accumulates significance and power. Chrissy eventually bursts with what she sees as Rob's problem: he really does not understand her people's way of life, the complex, extended kinship, protocols or loyalties.
In his defence, as a well-intentioned outsider, Rob finds it hard to sit down and drink himself into a stupor with the men, now that the booze has insinuated itself into the traditional ritual codes. But, as we learn, we must look to tolerance and bridging the gaps. Not just fine words. The goodwill of all becomes focused on the dying stranger, even Ferris finding competence and compassion in his role as an impromptu carer.
Richard Mellick's play is neither sentimental nor naive. He knows the texture of life in the large metropolis as well as in the small, distant town of Broome. The issues he explores are substantial.
He is superbly supported by Gow as director, ironing out the bumps, highlighting the work's strengths. All the cast are good; Kelso is superb as the runaway fool who, in more than one sense, finds himself in Broome.
Harvey's Chrissy is tender, while most whitefellas will identify with the complex cultural predicament faced by Connellan's unhappy Rob. Another highlight performance comes from Kelton Pell's impressively natural Uncle Barney. Barney might like to grog on a bit too much, but when it comes to his ceremonial duties, he is staunch.
This is a play that does not just talk about healing. It shows how the healing is done. The characters in this play are all connected, one way or the other. Some by blood, others by circumstance. Welcome To Broome proposes several different notions of family: all are valid and none exclusive.
Robert Kemp's low-lying bungalow sits well on the Belvoir Street stage, with help from Mark Howett on lights and Iain Grandage's music.
© 1998 Sydney Morning Herald
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