The history of Aboriginal people and Aboriginality in Tasmania is a tumultuous one. The colonisation of our history books provides little clarity on the horrors of oppression, displacement and genocide that led to the claims that Tasmania’s Aboriginal population is extinct. The narrative of “the lost tribe” combined with an assimilation policy that was in place until the 1970s made it difficult for Tasmania’s First Nations peoples, such as the Palawa people, to claim their Aboriginality.
“How might Aboriginal identity manifest itself in Palawa people, when we have been officially pronounced as extinct?”
Returning to Belvoir St Theatre with the original cast before heading on a timely national tour, Nathan Maynard’s At What Cost? is a thundering and informative exploration of Palawa’s competing histories, identity politics and the human need to be part of a collective.
At once a tragedy and an awakening... essential watching leading up to the voice referendum
Boyd (Luke Carroll) is a respected man in the Palawa community, which has recently reclaimed Putalina land (in Lutruwita, Tasmania). He moved there with his pregnant wife Nala (Sandy Greenwood), and his cousin Daniel (Ari Maza Long) followed from Melbourne shortly after. Now, about eight months later, Boyd has been chosen by the Aboriginal Land Council to protect William Lanne, a Palawa ancestor whose remains are returned from a British museum so that he can be cremated through the Palawa traditions and be passed on to his ancestors in the sky.
While in Putalina, Boyd has become increasingly aware of people showing up and claiming to be Palawa. He costically refers to them as “tick-a-box”-ers – people who claim Indigenous identity in the Census – but only for claiming identified roles in workplaces, or when applying for Government grants – when they have no known connection to the community or their bloodline. So when Boyd finds that non-Indigenous woman Gracie (Alex Malone) has put up a tent just outside his land, claiming she is doing research, Boyd is suspicious, and Nala and Daniel get caught in the middle.
Maynard’s mature hand navigates the audience through the differing perspectives on Aboriginal identity with unassuming clarity. Instead of picking a side, or trying to push a point of view, he patiently builds a picture of a system in which identity is a commodity, and each individual is a player in a game where no-one wins. It is at once a tragedy and an awakening.
One which director Isaac Drandric takes and infuses with a palpable and rising tension. From the moment the show starts, there is an indisputable sense of anticipation that something is not right. Even in the opening scenes where Maynard’s text is playful and intimate, setting up Boyd and Nala’s loving dynamic, there is a simmering tensity, as if even they know that this won’t last long. The anticipation is sustained through most of the first half via composer Brendan Boney’s atmospheric score, which takes traditional Aboriginal songs and modern electronic sounds and intersperses them with whispers in Palawa language, suggestive of the spirits calling out to Boyd, warning him.
Chloe Ogilvie’s subtle and suggestive lighting design takes us from Boyd’s home on country to inside his dreams, where his deepest fears are realised, then to the funeral pyre where Boyd performs Lanne’s last rights – donned in kangaroo fur and marked with the earth of his ancestors – and finally, to the night sky. A dark panel with small lights depicts the stars, transporting us to Palawa country.
With the set-up established, Maynard’s commentary on tick-a-boxers becomes more overt. Gracie becomes a parody of the way non-Indigenous Australians adopt sayings like “culturally safe” and “connection to land” when it serves them. The audience on opening night audibly cringed at the gaul of Gracie, a testament to Maynard’s honesty as he represents realistic community sentiment.
Despite the need for that pointed commentary in a time where “box-ticking” is rampant, I have to wonder if Maynard’s messages around competing histories would have had more impact if the audience never knew whether her claims were legitimate or not. It seems an antithesis to Maynard’s complexity-laden approach to paint one character as the traditional ‘bad guy’ when the reality, as the rest of the show portrays, is much more grey. I would be interested to see how this message lands as the show travels, as there is clearly still work to be done to create awareness of those who are wrongfully claiming Aboriginality.
The crescendo of Carroll’s performance is a sight to behold. It taps you on the shoulder like a crisp breeze before intensifying like a hurricane, and then, is suddenly serene. His monologues are engulfing, they sit more deeply within his bones more than some of the earlier banter between him and Greenwood. The dynamic between Carroll and Long is brotherly and teasing. Long does a lovely job holding dissension and fear in his face when moving in and out of interactions with Carroll and Malone, another way in which Drandric teases out simmering moral conflict. Malone plays her ulterior motives with earnestness, but her interactions with Long rarely plays like more than a manipulation.
At What Cost? is a conversation starter that provides a snapshot of the trials of post-colonial identity and the ongoing fights faced by First Nations peoples. It is essential watching leading up to the voice referendum, and will have you eagerly clicking the search button afterwards.
At What Cost? is playing at Belvoir St Theatre, Surry Hills, until May 21, 2023 (before touring to Brisbane, Adelaide and Hobart). Tickets range from $37-$94 and you can find your tickets here.
