Holding the Man (State Theatre Company of SA)

The State Theatre Company of South Australia’s final play for 2011 is a deeply moving production about love and loss, based on the acclaimed memoir by actor and playwright Timothy Conigrave.

Posthumously published in 1995, just a few months after Conigrave’s death from HIV/AIDS, Holding the Man tells the charming, frank and touching story of Conigrave’s relationship with his partner John Caleo, who he met in 1976, while the pair were still in high school. Despite their differences (John was the captain of the school football team; Tim was an aspiring actor) and the challenges posed by conservative parents, infidelity and occasional separation, their love flourished for 15 years, until John’s untimely death from an AIDS-related illness in 1992.

This new production of Holding the Man (originally staged in 2006 by the Griffin Theatre Company, and adapted for the stage by Tommy Murphy) is directed by Rosalba Clemente, a former Artistic Director of the State Theatre Company of South Australia. It stars Luke Clayson as Tim, and Nic English as John. The four remaining cast members (Catherine Fitzgerald, Nick Pelomis, Geoff Revell and Ellen Steele) play multiple roles between them, including various sets of parents, horny schoolboys, Tim’s NIDA colleagues, and the strutting clientele of a gay bar.

Dramatically, Holding the Man is a play of two very distinct halves. The first act plays up the comedy – most notably in a hilarious ‘circle jerk’ scene – but after interval the tragic aspects of the story come to the fore, with a particularly poignant sequence late in the piece utilising a puppet (designed by Stephanie Fisher) to great effect. By the time the curtain fell, there was barely a dry eye in the house.

I was not entirely convinced by Luke Clayson as Tim, who never quite sold the conflicting charm and bluntness of Conigrave, but Nic English as John was superb; quiet, gentle and charming. As a couple, their chemistry was perhaps a little subdued, though both actors gave their all to their respective roles.

Of the supporting cast, Nick Pelomis was particularly memorable in his multiple roles, especially as the surprisingly compassionate mother of Tim’s friend Juliet (Ellen Steele). Catherine Fitzgerald also impressed.

When not part of the action, the actors sat in plain sight at the side of the stage, one of many insightful additions to the already deliberately theatrical script, which, as befits a play about a theatremaker, makes use of numerous stage techniques – mime, improvisational games, puppetry – to tell its story.

Morag Cook’s simple but striking design frames the action under a series of large wooden bookcases to which props are added as the story unfolds – a scrapbook, a wig – mementos of Tim and John’s shared life.

Other elements of the production, such as Mark Shelton’s subtle but focused lighting design and composer Stuart Day’s score, are equally accomplished and never intrusive. Direction in the first half felt a trifle heavy-handed, though the second half proceeded with a lighter touch, ensuring the drama flowed naturally and was never forced.

The book of Holding the Man is already an Australian classic, and I have no doubt that Tommy Murphy’s play will also come to hold such status in 20 years time. This fine production by the State Theatre Company of South Australia, while not quite up to the remarkably high standard set by the original Griffin production, will also, no doubt, be talked about for many years to come.

Rating: Four stars

Holding the Man
By Tommy Murphy
From the book by Timothy Conigrave
Director: Rosalba Clemente
Designer: Morag Cook
Lighting Designer: Mark Shelton
Composer: Stuart Day
Cast: Luke Clayson, Nic English, Catherine Fitzgerald, Nick Pelomis, Geoff Revell and Ellen Steele
Duation: Approximate 135 minutes including interval

Dunstan Playhouse, Adelaide Festival Centre
October 21 – November 13

This review first appeared at Arts Hub on October 29th 2011.

Review: Holding the Man

Holding the Man, which actor-turned-playwright Timothy Conigrave completed only a few short weeks before he died of an AIDS-related illness, is a frank and heartfelt memoir about his 15-year-long relationship with John Caleo.

In 1976, as high school students at Xavier College, the pair fell in love, and started their lives together. In 1985 they were both diagnosed HIV positive. John died on Australia Day, 1992, with Tim by his side. He followed his lover to the grave two years later.

Written in decptively simple yet detailed prose, Holding the Man details the highs and lows of the turbulent, passionate relationship between these two men. Conigrave pulls no punches, describing his numerous infidelities with the same unflinching eye for detail as he devotes to growing up in 1970s suburban Melbourne, and the terrible impact of AIDS as it ravages both his body and John's. It's an incredibly tender book; a testament to John and Tim's love; and an incredibly painful book, which has reduced so many of its readers to helpless, wracking sobs.

The stage adaptation of Holding the Man by playwright Tommy Murphy, which opened at the Malthouse on Wednesday night, perfectly encapsulates the story Tim and John's love. It is a remarkable dramatic work, and the single most captivating and emotionally devestating theatrical production I have ever witnessed.

As with the book, the play is told from Tim's point of view - often directly, in droll asides to the audience by Guy Edmonds, who is utterly convincing in his role as Tim Conigrave. The first act opens with a young Tim witnessing the landing of Apollo 11 and Neil Armstrong's first steps on the moon, then launches into a series of quickly-sketched vignettes which collapse years into a succession of key scenes from Tim's life.

The focus, naturally, is on Tim's relationship with the laconic John Caleo (a wonderfully subdued and understated Matt Zeremes). Thus we see a teenage Tim mooning over this boy he hardly knows, followed by a comical flirtation which is aided and abetted by a pencil case; and at last, their first kiss, played out in a way which perfectly captures the scene as Conigrave describes it in the book:

"I turned to face him. He shut his eyes and pursed his lips. Everything was in slow motion as I pressed my mouth against his. His gentle warm lips filled my head. I body disolved, and I was only lips, pressed against the flesh of his. I could have stayed there for the rest of my life..."

The chemistry between Edmonds and Zeremes is remarkable, and utterly convincing, whether early in the play, when the boy's love is fresh and innocent, or later, when Tim's infidelities and out of control libido threaten to once more drive the pair apart.

Less convincing are the many minor characters which come (or cum, as in one especially comic high school scene) and go throughout the many short scenes of which the play is comprised.

The supporting actors, Jeanette Cronin, Nicholas Eadie, Eve Morey and Brett Stiller, are subject to numerous rapid costume changes in order to play a range of characters including school friends (Stiller is especially memorable as Tim's daggy mate, Biscuit), the boys' parents (Cronin and Eadie double up, playing both Tim's and John's mum and dad), actors, doctors, AIDS patients and more. Many of them are played strictly for laughs, as broad caricatures whose purpose is to be instantly identifiable and just as quickly forgotten due to the play's manic pace. That said, they are also played well, signalling key people or moments in Conigrave's all-too-short life.

As the second act unfolds, the need for such a heavy emphasis on humour becomes apparent; it's a much-need balance for the tragic scenes to come.

As John's once strong and healthy body is wracked by illness, the mood of the play darkens, and while there are still opportunities for laughs - usually as a result of Conigrave's wit and unfortunate habit of speaking his mind without due thought for the consequences - more often I began to hear muffled sobs emanating from the audience around me. Often the sobs were mine; tears freely coursed down my cheeks for much of the second half of the play, and by the time of its heart-breaking final scenes, I was bawling my eyes out.

Director David Bertold has ensured that Edmonds and Zeremes never overplay their roles; the pair bring a quiet dignity to their every scene; a fitting balance to the broad comedy sometimes played out around them. Brian Thompson's minimal and versatile set, which we first see covered in dust sheets, a condition to which it ultimately returns, is a perfect counterpoint to the dramas played out on stage; and Micka Agosta's costume designs, like the lights and sound, never draw attention to themselves, instead modestly and effectively highlighting the passage of time over the 15 years of the story.

Of particular note is the sporadic use of puppetry, which is utilised in the opening scene of the lunar landing, and is at its most effective when presenting the ravages of AIDS on the human body. Another memorable scene involves a grotesque yet tender dance between Tim and a dying John, in which Tim is supporting his lover, yet also a puppetmaster, pulling John's strings. It's an ambiguous and powerful scene, and like the production overall, fittingly theatrical, given that Tim Conigrave was, at heart a theatre-maker and practicioner.

Despite the regular presence of humour, Holding the Man is not an easy play to watch. By the time of Guy Edmond's final, heartbreaking monologue, I, like those around me, was reduced to wracking sobs. Some will find its sexual frankness confronting. Others might wish its narrative was less cluttered, its pace less rushed. I myself have no such qualms. Holding the Man is a magnificent, moving piece of theatre; a superb realisation of a great Australian love story; and a more than fitting tribute to the late Timothy Conigrave and the great love of his life, John Caleo. If you only see one piece of theatre this year, I implore you, see this show.

Holding the Man at the CUB Malthouse Theatre until April 19. An MTC presentation of a production by the Griffin Theatre Company.

Review: THIEVING BOY/LIKE STARS IN MY HANDS

These two short plays by Tim Conigrave were first produced in July 1997, at the CUB Malthouse Theatre by the then-Playbox Theatre Company, under the direction of David Bell. I was lucky enough to have seen their return season, in January 1998, as part of the Midsumma Festival; and retain fond memories of their emotional impact and resonance.

Now, ten years later, Thieving Boy and Like Stars in My Hand have been restaged; this time by Fly-On-The-Wall Theatre at La Mama's Carlton Courthouse, again for Midsumma, under the direction of Robert Chuter.

Conigrave, who died in 1994 of an AIDS-related illness, was an actor, playwright and activist best known today for his remarkable memoir, Holding the Man, which details the 15-year love affair between he and his partner, John Caleo.

(In case you've been living under a rock, Griffin Theatre Company's acclaimed production of Holding the Man will be staged in Melbourne in a few months time, which makes this revival of Conigrave's plays even more timely.)

Of the two works, the first, Thieving Boy, was my favourite when I first saw it in 1998. In retrospect, my attraction for it was due in part, I think, to a crush I had at the time for a knockabout young sex-worker who I was seeing a bit of, and who reminded me of one of the play's main characters. Ten years later, it's now the second work, the more ambitious, impressionistic Like Stars in My Hands, which resonates for me more strongly...

Both plays are simply produced, with minimal set dressing: projection and a few props helping to flesh out the scenes. Performances are passionate, though not always entirely appropriate to the material the actors are working with (see below for details); and while the lighting predominantly counterbalances the lack of set dressing, it can't always do so. Additionally, the short production time afforded Chuter and his cast, which he refers to in the programme, shows in a few clumbsily blocked scenes. Opening night jitters also distracted on occasion, but overall, I thought most of the cast across the two plays rose well to the occasion.

Thieving Boy, as detailed in chapter nine of Holding the Man, had already been extensively workshopped prior to Conigrave's death.

The play tells the story of Moxy (Daniel McBurnie) a 22-year old inmate of Malabar Training Centre at Long Bay Jail, who is let out on day release in order to enable him to visit his dying father, Brian (Chris Gaffney). Waiting for Moxy on the outside are his mum, Jude (Francesca Walters) his little sister, Tracy (Stephanie Lillis) and unwitting ex-boyfriend, law student Tom (Heath Miller) who we first meet while he is working as a department store Santa, drying his costume after an incident with an excitable three year old's bladder.

It's a simple, naturalistic story; the drama propelled by Moxy's complex relationship with his father, his feelings for Tom, and his own carefully guarded emotions. The play's emotional punch on opening night was slightly reduced due to an at-times uninspired performance by McBurnie, whose accent and bearing as the cocky, working class Moxy failed to thoroughly convince; while the spartan production meant that, in some scenes where they were peripheral to the action, actors stood about awkwardly. Some 20 minutes into the play, however, the cast clicked, and by its final scenes I was wiping away tears. (And to be fair to McBurnie, who I spoke to after the show, his performance on opening night was affected by his fretting for the first 20 minutes or so that he'd forgotten his director's instructions about his character's signature gesture upon first walking on stage.)

Overall, Thieving Boy remains a simple yet powerful play about grief, love and family; themes which are explored in greater detail, and to better effect, in Conigrave's second play, to which we returned after the interval.

Like Stars in My Hands was incomplete at the time of Conigrave's death, resulting in some substancial changes to the script by editor Tony Ayres.

A meditation on love and loss, it's a considerably more complex work than the kitchen-sink drama of Thieving Boy; and focuses on the complex relationship between Simon (a superb performance by David Forster) his lover Marcello (a understated Luke Arnold) and their friend Jimmy, an up-and-coming commercial photographer (Gary Abrahams).

Simon is dying, but doesn't want Marcello to be lonely when he's gone. He's identified Jimmy as a potential new boyfriend for Marcello, and goes about setting them up together despite the jealousy and anguish this causes him. Prickly, demanding and difficult, Simon is a complex character whose fear of his impending death is tempered by his conversations with Ganesh, the elephant-headed Hindu god of writing and beginnings and the play's fourth character, voiced by Francesca Waters.

Conigrave's grasp of theatre's visual language is considerably more developed in this play than in Thieving Boy, as typified by its opening scene; which shows Simon standing naked in a bath, after which he is tenderly dried by his lover. Already Simon is isolated, the scene tells us; and while it shows us the strength of Marcello's love, it also tells us that, already, at least physically, Simon is relegating their relationship to the past, as his immediate concerns - death, and its impact on his lover - come to the fore.

In this play, the production's stark set comes into its own, thanks to a beautiful set of projections by Ian de Gruchy which enrich the drama and flesh out the proceedings, suggesting at various times the industrial confines of Jimmy's warehouse apartment, the night sky, a gay and lesbian dance party, and the half-world in which Simon's conversations with Ganesh take place.

Direction and performances are excellent, with the emotional intensity of the play's relationships displayed through a handful of passionate sexual encounters as well as by the emotional fireworks of Conigrave's dialogue. The play doesn't flinch away from the ugly side of dying, nor from the urgency of need; typified by two wonderfully staged, concurrent scenes where we see Marcello cleaning Simon's bedsores, wincing in pain at the hurt the process causes his lover; followed by a passionate and sensual sexual encounter.

Considered as a whole, Like Stars in My Hands is a more complex, confronting and rewarding work than Thieving Boy; although like Conigrave's earlier work, by its conclusion tears were once again freely coursing down my face.

It seems to me, in retrospect, that perhaps a little more care and time has gone into Like Stars in My Hands than on Thieving Boy, but some clever touches ensure connections between both plays (such as a cameo by Forster as Simon, clutching a Minnie Mouse doll, in a hospital scene in Thieving Boy).

Despite some minor flaws, these were well-realised and deeply affecting productions, reminding us once again of the major theatrical talent Conigrave would have undoubtedly become had his life not been cut so tragically short.

Fly-On-The Wall Theatre's production of Thieving Boy and Like Stars in My Hands
Now showing at La Mama's Carlton Courthouse Theatre, 349 Drummon Street, Carlton, until Saturday February 2.
Bookings: 9347 6142 www.lamama.com.au