The “Gripping Dramatic Yarn”

Abstract

This chapter presents further findings from our study on the five health education works led by Kamarra Bell-Wykes and produced by Ilbijerri Theatre Company from 2006 to 2019. These findings draw on interviews conducted with eight practitioners who were involved over the years as performers, production staff, and advisors, a research yarn conducted between co-authors Sarah and Kamarra, and Kamarra’s own critical reflections while putting together this volume. We also analysed documents and data from Ilbijerri’s corporate archive and published works such as those by Clare Keating (‘Chopped Liver’ Evaluation Report. Effective Change Pty Ltd. Melbourne: Ilbijerri Theatre Company. Supplied,2009) and Blayne Welsh (The Hepatitis C Trilogy: A Case for Indigenous Theatre as a Contemporary Manifestation of Traditional Healing Business. Australasian Drama Studies 73: 20–41. https://search.informit.org/doi/abs/10.3316/ielapa.146479491877297, 2018). Utilising a quote from Isaac Drandic (one of the study’s interview subjects), this chapter explores the second of three prominent themes within the data: the framing of the works as “gripping dramatic yarns” that centred cultural storytelling infused with authenticity, engaging characters, humour, and strong acting and performance skills. As we explore in Chap. 6, these elements enabled the works to deftly walk the line between entertainment and education, effectively promoting audience engagement and connection and supporting the health education and messaging. As such, we continue to argue that the works progress the dramaturgies of wellbeing, strength, and resistance that characterise contemporary First Nations theatre in Australia.

In his 2021 interview for this study, Isaac Drandic, an original cast member from Chopped Liver and acclaimed theatre maker in his own right, described the work as “a gripping dramatic yarn.” His comment was made in the context of a discussion about why the work was so successful in engaging audiences and enabling them to talk safely and openly about hepatitis C. While scholar Emma Brodzinski (2010) notes longstanding criticisms of theatre for health education as being message focused over and above artistic considerations, the works discussed in this volume have been carefully crafted to walk a convincing line between education and gripping theatre. Although some performances were more successful than others at doing so, as will be discussed further below, it was achieved through a combination of strong cultural metaphors that supported the health messaging; compelling, authentic storylines that reflected the audience’s experiences; engaging and nuanced characters; the inclusion of humour and comedy; and sophisticated performance aesthetics that included high levels of acting and performance skills. In essence, this supports the cultural framing of the works as ‘yarns’ both as true-to-life stories told in elegantly simple, entertaining ways for the purpose of transmitting important cultural messages and as vehicles for creating safe spaces for open talk or yarning about the health issues being explored.

Cultural Framing Through Storytelling

Kamarra: When you’re sitting around a fire at night … it can become a little bit competitive. You know, who has the best yarn? So, we’re really entertaining each other. … We’re all historians. We’re storytellers very innately, and so I think … we’ve got a lot of good storytellers and we’ve got a lot of funny storytellers. … So, we really, we put some effort in to how we set it up and how that timing comes in … there’s a kind of standard, I think, that comes from the community. (Interview, 2021)

Melodie Reynolds-Diarra reflected on how a good story “can be told anywhere with just the bare essentials or just the voice” (interview, 2021). Isaac Drandic discussed how this was vital for Chopped Liver, which needed to be toured economically in terms of set and production equipment: “The story has to be interesting because you’ve got nothing [else] to fall back on.” Nazaree Dickerson pointed out how this minimalism was part of the “magic” in productions, where their “scaled back” simplicity was integral to the yarn. She recalled audience members “getting a kick” out of a scene in Chopped Liver where a baby was represented by just a blanket wrapped up.

That’s what … so many of our cultures hold is that storytelling and playfulness that comes so naturally … so the fact that you get to do this in contemporary theatre is what I love and then showing Mob how easy it is. Because any blackfulla can tell you they see their family members do this all the time, tell a yarn. There’s always somebody that can tell a yarn really playfully and use something, a mundane object, like a remote, to be a phone or things like that. That’s what I loved about it. (Interview, 2021)

In approaching the writing, Kamarra has always been clear that finding a compelling story first was critical and that the health messaging would then follow. For her, this entailed making the right choices around character, world, and truth and finding the emotional arc of the story. Chopped Liver and Viral – Are You the Cure? were successful in this regard because they depicted multiple perspectives on the issue through a range of characters. This ensured that the hepatitis C virus was represented not just through a single story but through an intergenerational relationship where different stories came together. Kamarra sees this as vital to representing a diversity of community experiences and taking care not to represent First Nations peoples or at-risk groups as homogenous. Within this, Kamarra experimented with different styles of theatre and performance so that the work could capture different yarning styles in approaching audiences. Works such as Body Armour and North West of Nowhere were not quite as successful in this regard, due in part to the fact that there had been some interference from a reference group member, who wanted specific health facts and messaging to be inserted into the scripts. This heavy-handed approach to messaging, discussed in more detail in Chap. 6, could be seen to compromise the artistic integrity within the works that reflects some of the criticism levelled at theatre for health education mentioned above.

Extending on this, Melodie Reynolds-Diarra spoke at length about the legacy of colonisation that has led to First Nations peoples regarding health information and statistics with fear and suspicion because they are usually delivered by non-Indigenous people in “oppressing” ways. From her perspective, the framing of such information through a “playful” and engaging dramatic yarn helped audiences, particularly in prisons, to lower their guard and connect with a more child-like curiosity:

In that moment there you get the information through, you get them remembering and [feeling the] emotion and what happened in that scene, [as] opposed to the statistics. … I keep on coming back to the word, ‘visceral’ because I suppose it’s harder to tune off from someone standing in front of you telling a story. … It opens up all that thing to that child within; you know, ‘Let me sit down now, [be patient], let me tell you this yarn, and throughout this yarn, it’s about these two people here. This is what they went through.’ … That’s not pushing anything onto anyone … it leaves it open.

This points to the strength of these works in terms of their primary purpose—to impart important health information—which will be discussed further in the next chapter. However, it also highlights the need for such information to be delivered in an aesthetically engaging, culturally safe, culturally relevant way, that is, through entertaining yarning. In a sense, it decolonises health promotion and education so that audiences feel empowered, rather than oppressed, by a meaningful exchange of information through storytelling.

Findings from the data show that a key strength of the five health education works was their cultural framing, which included engaging storytelling as discussed above, as well as potent cultural metaphors, imagery, and reference points from both contemporary First Nations cultural experience and more traditional elements of history, ceremony, and spirituality. These will be unpacked in more detail in the sections that follow; however, they are undoubtedly key to the levels of engagement from audiences and the capacity for the performances to deliver health messaging and education effectively. As Blayne Welsh (2018, 39) pointed out in relation to Viral,

In the making of Viral, the director Kamarra Bell-Wykes employed historical Indigenous performance practices—such as the use of humour, dance and story—to communicate a particular trauma (sorry business) associated with living with hepatitis C. In presenting [it] through a cultural framework, the performance spoke directly to the issues and allowed knowledge transfer in a way much like we have done for thousands of years.

Peter Waples-Crowe highlighted the importance of having “an intertwined cultural story” in the works and how this was a signature of Kamarra’s work, “It might be—not a Dreamtime story—but a story from Country that relates to it,” giving the example of the brolga that featured in North West of Nowhere (interview, 2021). The striking presence of the tree in the set for Scar Trees embodied the narrative’s cultural metaphor foregrounding the resilience and strength of scar trees (Fig. 2.5).

Kirra: Cos at first it’s like they’re not even there, the scars. Nobody knows unless you look. Then you first see ‘em and it’s kinda ugly, like it looks like the tree is in pain or broken or whatever. But then when you look closer, it’s like: actually it’s beautiful. Cos it shows the past. Shows that we were here. And how we lived. And that we existed. And what we went through. What the tree went through. And it’s alive still. You know? And if you frame it right and hold it in the right light, it is beautiful. (Scar Tree, 2019)

Perhaps one of the most arresting examples of an integration between traditional and contemporary cultural elements occurred in Viral, where the creative team developed a dance demonstrating the connection between intravenous sharing practices, ceremonial rituals, cultural substitution, and the impact of colonial disease. Starting in traditional form, the performers prepared and applied ochre together before dancing in harmony with Spirit around the fire. The ‘traditional’ rhythm was then interrupted by a banjo as the dance repeated and mutated to demonstrate the crushing, mixing, and sharing of a ‘dirty hit’. Finally, the ‘virus’ infected their bodies and the performers heaved and convulsed, eventually collapsing on the ground. Welsh (2018) describes how this dance was used in Viral to depict the contemporary rituals of drug use as being a colonising “replacement” for traditional cultural rituals (Fig. 5.1). This moves the work beyond simply depicting risky or harmful behaviours and towards a deeper understanding of the structural inequities that have led to such impacts on communities. Kamarra’s goal was to create a moment that spoke to the message as well as the deeper spiritual truths within First Nations cultures, and she was surprised at the effect it had on audiences. Audience feedback from the 2018 tour indicated that this scene had a powerful impact:

The scene where they shot up to the sound of the Indigenous rhythm sticks really blew me away and was such a powerful image.

A very powerful performance by all. I will be haunted by the scene where cultural ritual evolves in to shooting up ritual. (Audience survey responses, Viral 2018)

Fig. 5.1

(L-R) Jesse Butler, Laila Thaker, and Blayne Welsh, Viral – Are You the Cure? Image by Tiffany Garvie (2018)

However, the prison audiences surprisingly cracked up laughing at the dance and explained later, “You can’t do that in here! We can’t believe you did that!” with a joy that spoke to the dramatic freedom theatre can create inside the highly restricted context behind prison walls.

Jesse Butler described how important it was to include these kinds of performative elements but also how crucial it was for First Nations audiences to see themselves and their stories represented on stage:

Understanding what’s going to work and bringing Indigenous performance styles into what we’re doing also makes Mob feel a part of it. They feel like they recognise not just the words but also some of the things that are going on on stage, these little performances, and these rituals that we were involving in the show was something that they do as well. So, it wasn’t just a theatre show. It was like we’re doing what we do in life, and we’re doing it on stage. (Interview, 2020)

This points towards the critical element of authenticity that will be discussed further below. By integrating strong cultural metaphors with contemporary issues, audiences were able to relate deeply to what they were seeing. As one teacher noted of North West of Nowhere, “The performance was fabulous. I loved the cultural content and the contemporary nature of the dialogue. I am sure it benefitted our students in a range of ways” (Ilbijerri Theatre Company 2014, 6). Other elements, such as the style of storytelling and humour, were also critical in creating this kind of connection, as will be discussed further below.

Nevertheless, Kamarra and Isaac Drandic discussed how integrating cultural references and content could have challenges in terms of touring through diverse First Nations communities across the country. Isaac recalled touring in Kalgoorlie, where he had some cousins:

Their first language is Wangkatha, or Pitjantjatjara, or one of the desert languages out there, there would have been a kind of language disconnect. There would have been a cultural disconnect. Talking about Expo ‘88, they don’t know what Expo ‘88 is. Yeah, I do remember that actually. I do remember that it wasn’t the usual response that we got from pretty much 90 per cent of the other communities and prisons that we went to. Yeah, there was a huge kind of cultural gap there between us.

This was part of the reason why Kamarra was keen to develop a more community-responsive model such as that found in The Score, which would allow space for more diverse languages and cultural stories.

In terms of cross-cultural readings of the works, responses from non-Indigenous audiences in the surveys were positive, and several creatives interviewed for the research indicated that the themes and storylines being covered might be accessible to a non-Indigenous audience. Melodie Reynolds-Diarra suggested that non-Indigenous audiences who were “open enough” and “without prejudice” would “be drawn along” to see the plays. Speaking about Chopped Liver, Isaac Drandic pointed out,

There’s enough kind of stuff in there, relationship stuff and metaphors around wanting to be a big shot. The little skimp wanted to be a goanna and there’s enough connections in there that, yeah, connect to non-Indigenous folk as well, for sure.

On the other hand, there was a sense that the performances would connect more strongly for a First Nations audience, given that, as Jesse Butler pointed out, the plays were “written mostly for Mob.” Melodie observed that in some spaces such as prisons, there could be a more “immersive” relationship between First Nations and non-Indigenous people, resulting in a shared understanding of jokes and other references but that the strength of cultural references sometimes resulted in a satisfying power shift:

So, they got our jokes, they already got our humour but sometimes … there’s a moment where you see a power dynamic in an audience where the blackfullas are, ‘This shit—this is our song.’ So that they’re appreciating it in a different way to the non-Indigenous people that are in the audience, and it just actually creates a bit of a power dynamic; like, ‘This one’s for us,’ you know? And it’s just nice to see that shape—that power kind of shift sometimes in those spaces because it’s generally the other way around.

This points towards a critical quality of the performances as being empowering for First Nations audiences, which is discussed further in Chap. 6.

Performances of Viral to largely non-Indigenous school students were not as successful. Kamarra observed, “You could see they wanted to connect, but it was like, this is not your lived experience. …I don’t think they kind of knew what to take away from it as well, though they tried really hard” Jesse agreed with this assessment:

I think with the Indigenous kids we’ve got that connection straightaway. … Maybe they’ve had a relative in some situations, whereas even an Indigenous person who hasn’t been through anything like that has Mob. … Every Indigenous kid knows an alcoholic, or a drug addict, or someone who’s been thrown in jail, or someone who’s been racially vilified—something. There’s always something to connect with.

Jesse went on to discuss his experience of performing to non-Indigenous health workers: “We’d be in some health centre with all white health workers. The show is just going over their heads and they were like - and you’re kind of like, ‘That was hard.’” Later, he also discussed how potentially disempowering for First Nations audience members it could be to have non-Indigenous people in the yarning circle afterwards sharing their own stories and experiences in detail: “That’s great but we’re not here for that right now. Read the room.” Kamarra has always been adamant that the primary audience for these health education performances is First Nations peoples, despite there being occasions on some tours when the work has not necessarily reached that audience to the optimal degree.

The evidence above supports the framing of the health education works as “gripping dramatic yarns” with cultural storytelling at their heart, deliberately aimed at First Nations audiences, and explicitly dealing, not only with the complexities of the health issues themselves but also with the wider structural inequities that have disadvantaged Australia’s first peoples since colonisation. We now dig more deeply into four specific features that supported these gripping yarns as highlighted most prominently within the data: authenticity, humour, characters, and strong acting and performance skills.

Authenticity

The element of authenticity within the health education works might seem somewhat artificially separated from other elements that contributed to their effectiveness as “gripping yarns.” It was no doubt a combination of cultural elements, storylines, characters, dialogue, and emotional content of the productions that felt authentic or true to life for audience members. Nevertheless, this was a theme that repeatedly came up in our research and is a signature of the way Kamarra approaches this kind of work. For her, writing Chopped Liver was a deeply personal project, given that she was, at the time, living with hepatitis C.

I guess the thing that was a little bit strange about the whole process was—and I don’t know whether the person that approached me as the writer knew this or not—but I was living with hepatitis C, and I hadn’t told anybody about that. [And] despite that, I still didn’t actually know that much about the virus, although I knew a lot about the shame, and I knew a lot about the emotional truth, and I guess that was the thing that really made a big difference.

Kamarra’s commitment to finding the emotional truth within the works has remained in place ever since, with a strong conviction that this is the only way for these kinds of works to resonate on a personal and cultural level for audiences so that they can then swallow the “medicine” of health education and messaging.

This was also reflected elsewhere in the data. As Jesse Butler observed of the Viral workshops and performances in prisons, “It’s their story. That’s why it has such an impact.” Blayne Welsh (2018, 32) describes in his paper, “In referring to how similar some of the character’s … experiences were to his own, one inmate asked, ‘Have you been to my house?’” Isaac Drandic described how the story and dialogue in Chopped Liver were “very identifiable to people.”

We were speaking the language that they speak. It wasn’t ‘Home and Away’ language, it wasn’t upper end kind of language, it wasn’t Shakespeare or anything like that. It was plain talk. We sounded like the people that we were taking the show to.

Written audience feedback in both the post-show surveys and the guestbook for Viral contained numerous references to the truth of the performance:Verse

Verse Fantastic. Beautiful and emotional and real. Thank you. Realistic, triggering, emotional, raw, brilliant. The show was amazing. The emotion that was experienced was truly real. Well done. Very powerful. Had me feeling it was real and not acting. Great performance, great acting, really engaging. I love the realness. Thank you for spreading the word and encouraging healing in the community. Fantastic and very creative production. Very realistic scenarios. I was very moved by this play. I liked the honesty even though it was very confronting.

The quotes above illustrate how important the emotional intensity and authenticity of the story were in enabling audiences to sit with some of the confronting aspects of the performance. As cited in the previous section, Melodie Reynolds-Diarra explains how this emotional truth is key to communicating the deeper complexities of the issue behind the health facts and statistics. Peter Waples-Crowe echoed this sentiment, describing how important it was to integrate the messaging with an “honest” story:

The plays dealt with issues that are often supressed, or not talked about, or so stigmatised, and they did it in a really realistic, honest way, upfront and… I think a lot of people know messages, but when they’re intertwined into people’s lives, then it can make a really big difference.

Jesse Butler had much to say about the authenticity of the stories and performances and seemed to connect with this idea deeply as an actor. For him, it was extremely intimidating yet satisfying to interpret the role of Kev/Doc in Viral in front of a prison audience:

Kamarra is an incredible director and very authentic herself. So, she really wants that in the performance. That was kind of drilled into us, how real we had to be and it was such an incredible acting experience it made me a better actor to be in those situations.

He went on to discuss how the authenticity of the story and its telling were connected directly to the cultural practice of yarning:

That’s what authenticity is all about, it’s just about being real in that place and not trying to do this show. You’re not trying to… perform in front of them. You’re just telling a story. You’re having a yarn. That’s the beauty of performing in front of Mob as well because I think they—Mob understand performance.

Melodie Reynolds-Diarra discussed how important authenticity was for the Chopped Liver performances to hold the attention of audiences in prisons, where few people would be used to watching live performance, while at the same time delivering a health message that might otherwise be stigmatising. For her, it was Kamarra’s “non-judgemental” and “engaging writing” that enabled the works to overcome these hurdles:

[The] writing grabbed people because it was at their vibrational level, their lingo, their recognition in historical events that were placing them in the moment. It was an honest story of two people that they could relate to but it’s not pointing fingers at them. …As soon as you have the non-judgemental stuff coming through, you’ve got an opening for it to be healed in a way of the inmates and people like - feel like it’s easier to talk to someone about it because they’ve just seen it live and it’s not removed on television or a screen as such. It’s someone viscerally feeling and saying those words and those emotions and getting through their problems.

Here, Melodie not only describes the authenticity of the performances but also their “visceral” power as live events, opening a space for connection and discussion.

An additional element of authenticity in Viral’s second tour was the presence of Shannon Hood in the role of Merv, whose own life experiences mirrored those of many audience members and whose role as a recognisable community member with no previous performance experience had impact and currency. Jesse Butler reflected on this:

There were a lot of comments from other people [about] how much they appreciated him … because he had been through so much himself and I think he knew a lot of people we were actually performing to and … the thing that really struck me was how it was so real, and it was about more than a performance.

Shannon’s presence in the show added a layer of engagement for audience members who could see themselves, not only in his character but also in the man himself and his story. This had wider implications for both Shannon and his audiences that will be discussed further later, but certainly the presence of a person on stage with lived experience of the issues under investigation contributed to the authenticity of the piece. It was Shannon’s presence in the performance as an untrained actor with lived experience that in part informed Kamarra’s decision to adopt the participatory model for her most recent work The Score, where community members would be inducted into performances, thereby increasing potential connections and engagement for community audiences.

We discuss specific elements such as character, humour, and performance skills below; however, it is important to note that the sense of authenticity within these performances contributes on a broader scale to the project of decolonising both theatre and health education or promotion. As Maryrose Casey (2012) suggests, notions of authenticity in contemporary First Nations theatre have often been dictated by the colonising powers, who have historically set the parameters and expectations for what are considered authentic representations of “Aboriginality” on Australian stages, creating an “economy of authenticity.” Paola Balla (2017) similarly discusses how White people’s expectations are “tied up in authentic ideas about Aboriginality itself. It correlates with the idea[s] about traditional art and traditional people, and us being urban, so therefore…not real” (as cited in Thorner et al. 2018, 279). Works such as the ones we discuss here, led by First Nations creatives and made for First Nations audiences, therefore assert sovereignty over the stage, foregrounding the authentic stories and nuanced identities of contemporary Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples and (in this case) their authentic experiences of structural health and wellbeing inequities in settler colonial Australia.

Engaging and Nuanced Characters

A key aspect of creating a sense of authenticity in these works was to incorporate heightened yet familiar characters whom audience members felt they could recognise from their own communities. The lead characters in Chopped Liver are “Uncle” and “Aunty” archetypes Jim and Lynn, a likable couple haunted by their high-risk pasts and seeking a better future. These characters appealed to a broad First Nations audience regardless of their experience with hep C and were great vehicles to explore the associated stigma, shame, and daily survival associated with the virus.

Jim::

Deep down I love her more than life itself but this hep C thing’s floored me. Like someone’s punched me in the gut and I can’t get my breath back. Can’t unsay what I’ve said. Can’t!

Lynne::

Can’t look me in the eye. Deep down I know he doesn’t mean it. He wants the baby more than I do but can’t talk things through… Says forget it—we’ll forge on. I think if he can forget it, maybe I can. (Bell-Wykes 2018a, 29)

For Body Armour, which addresses hep C transmission among adolescents, the characters needed to demonstrate the various societal and cultural intersections of the issue while creating an engaging performance for young people.

For Viral, the artistic team—informed by the community workshops—created three characters who were at different stages of the virus. This was essential in representing the diversity of the community and the different reasons people were not taking up the available treatment. Some of the audience feedback for Viral identified the characters specifically as being integral to the success of the play:Verse

Verse The characters were really well developed and their complexities showed so well. It was fantastic. Very complex, powerful, and thought provoking. It dealt with the characters in a respectful and compassionate manner. The play was great and I think theatre is great educational tool and people can identify with the characters. (Viral 2018, audience survey)

Shannon Hood reflected on the challenge of playing dual characters in Viral, Lewis, one of the white documentarians, and Merv, the older protagonist who had contracted hepatitis C. Shannon joined the cast, completely new to acting, and drew on his own lived experiences to play Merv:

I felt like I had a bit of Merv in me anyway. It was just about trying to adapt that to a character that the people in the audience could relate to. Whether it be their uncle, their father, their brother, something like that. But I think everyone out in the community has a Merv in their life so it was just about putting Merv across in a sense that, Merv was bitter and angry, but also Merv was sorrowful and remorseful about his relationship with his daughter. It was just trying to get that balance in between. (Interview, 2021)

Shannon then spoke about how important it was to give nuance to the character, not only for the integrity of the show but also for his own emotional wellbeing in performing the role:

I didn’t want to make Merv to be an angry, old black man that just hated the world. I wanted Merv to come across how I felt when I got over my addictions and all of the things that I thought about when I was going through that. I just tried to sprinkle a little bit of that on top and that also made me feel a little bit comfortable and not be triggered or anything like that with any previous problems that I had.

As discussed earlier, Shannon’s portrayal of Merv, particularly in the prison shows, contributed to the authenticity of the work and strengthened the messaging by presenting a peer with lived experience who could therefore be seen as a role model to audiences.

Shannon’s instincts to go for nuance in his portrayal of Merv highlight another important factor in the success of these works. In all the works, Kamarra was committed to portraying a cross-spectrum of characters. This may include stereotypes—as there are truths to stereotypes and they can serve a purpose—but a range of other more nuanced characters who make different choices was included as well. There was also care taken around representation, where, for example, in the portrayal of the Nella in North West of Nowhere, who is ‘slut-shamed’ by her peer group claims back her power over her sexuality and identity by challenging the toxic assumptions commonly projected onto young women. Another strength of the works is the representation of First Nations communities in all their own diversity, including avoiding heteronormativity. As health worker Peter Waples-Crowe observed, “I was always uplifted to see that there were queer characters in the plays as well.” Writing about theatre-based HIV prevention programs in the Asia Pacific region, Helen Cahill (2017) cautions against goodie/baddie tropes, suggesting that these can often reactivate stigmatising constructs that connect morality to disease. She highlights how focusing on relations between characters can assist in exploring how cultural codes and expectations often dictate behaviour, and this is an approach that has typically been adopted for these works. There is also a sense that the characters must serve the action and authenticity of the story and the relationships within it, rather than be shoe-horned into the performance as didactic vehicles for health messaging—as can often be the case in educational theatre. Even in North West of Nowhere, where Kamarra felt some pressure to include a health worker character to convey some of the key health information, she developed this character into an old man shapeshifter—a recognisable cultural archetype—in an effort to retain some of the authenticity and integrity of the play.

As in many educational plays, the ‘hero’ or protagonist in North West of Nowhere—Wyatt—was portrayed as someone with a choice to make, who was not endowed with risky behaviours but was rather in the stage of contemplating doing things differently. The risky behaviours were represented by an older antagonist, still likeable and recognisable to the community. Cuz, another recognisable cultural archetype, reflects the idea that everybody has an older bad-influencing cousin or relative who acts like a clown and should know better but does not. This allowed young audiences to witness an older person behave stupidly and presented an opportunity to exercise better judgment. Even though Wyatt is being teased for not being ‘cool’, he has an opportunity to make the harder choice. This approach echoes educational theatre works that are influenced by Theatre of the Oppressed (Boal 1985), offering the audience a protagonist in whom they can invest, supporting them to make healthy choices, while potentially being influenced by an antagonist, in this case Cuz. The two older characters (Cuz and Ol’ Man) also represent the intergenerational scope of health and wellbeing in communities, which is also reflected in Chopped Liver, Viral, and Scar Trees. This demonstrates how knowledge is transmitted in Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander cultures, also creating access points for diverse community audiences and situating the responsibility for community wellbeing with the whole community rather than centring the behaviour of specific individuals.

Humour

A vital aspect of the “gripping dramatic yarn” from a cultural perspective is humour, which was consistently deployed to great effect throughout the health education works discussed here. Humour not only provided a counterpoint to the seriousness of the issues being discussed but also gave depth and dimension to the characters and stories. It was also used as a vehicle for mocking the colonial systems surrounding health and wellbeing for First Nations audiences, as in the case of the non-Indigenous documentary filmmakers in Viral, who embodied the patronising, ill-informed, inappropriate behaviours of White “do-gooders” (Welsh 2018, 28). In Viral, the cameo roles of caricature prison guards Shaz and Daz brought comic relief while expressing the systematic failures of the prison system, proving to be an audience favourite particularly amongst incarcerated audiences.

Shaz::

It’s a cesspool.

Daz::

I call it the ‘Core’.

Shaz::

Where molten lava of shit goes down on a daily basis.

Lewis::

Can I ask about the drugs that get through here?

Shaz::

No comment.

Daz::

I do not know what you are talking about. (Viral - Are you the Cure? 2018)

The inclusion of humour was critical to winning over audiences in prison, where Kamarra was aware that performances would need to be especially engaging to break down suspicion and avoid being seen as “naff.” The drug mixing and injecting dance in Viral described earlier provided the kind of shock value for prison audiences associated with dark comedy, eliciting strong reactions and laughter at the audacity of showing this in front of prison officers in a highly restricted environment.

To engage its young audiences, in North West of Nowhere, Kamarra decided to ridiculously signpost the “insert health information here” with an absurd but very real comical prop—a box of plastic “cocks” concealed as shiny bright bananas, much to the despair and delight of the audience.

Old man: Those are the latest model. Very realistic. Somehow people feel more comfortable when they’re wrapped up in something –still cant get ‘em to use a bloody condom though – go figure. (Bell-Wykes 2018b, 36)

This somewhat clunky but playful action became the show’s highlight and served to mock the theatre in education form itself and good-naturedly undercut the idea of ‘serious’ messaging (Fig. 5.2).

Fig. 5.2

(L-R) James Henry, Carly Sheppard, and Ian Michael, North West of Nowhere. Image by Brent Edwards (2015)

Helen Cahill (2017) notes that humour can give permission to participants to engage freely with explicit sexual content and taboo topics. Humour provides an opening for people to relax, let down their guard, and feel more able to connect with the story and the performers on stage. It is therefore a critical aspect of reducing the stigma associated with challenging topics such as addiction and sexual health. As one teacher pointed out after a performance of Body Armour at their school, “What a fantastic performance. Students laughed and learned - a great combination” (Ilbijerri Theatre Company 2013, 5). Kamarra’s tenet (under John Romeril’s wise advice) to “Get ‘em laughing then punch ‘em in the guts!” (see Chap. 2) was particularly relevant to the first energetic and comedic scenes of Chopped Liver, which worked to “win the audience over” before any mention of hepatitis C. Audience reflections from the first tour highlighted this vital combination of drama and humour:Verse

Verse The play has dignity and power. It is so ‘un-pious.’ To turn sadness into humour is a great achievement. How well the play is written – its ability to deal so seamlessly with so many complex issues about health and life and relationships, with both drama and humour. Yeah, deadly as. Great way to inform people. Funny side of a disease that has a big impact on a lot of people. Good to let people know to get over the shame job and get checked out and learn how to live with it. Transforming ‘heavy duty messages’ about hepatitis C through the humour and humanity of the play, which in turn ensures that the messages are actually received and recalled.      (Keating 2009, 6–17)

In a recent literature review of “humour-based strategies” in 13 global public health studies (Miller et al. 2021, 568), humour was identified as a “useful tool for increasing awareness and help-seeking behaviour for public health priorities, particularly those associated with stigma.” In addition, there is a strong cultural tradition of using humour in performance, particularly to provide a counterpoint to serious or traumatic material. As Kamarra pointed out,

When you’re writing a play about something that’s really heavy, it’s like you’ve got to go even harder the other way to find the humour and the light. …And particularly because it’s such a language of blackfullas, that humour, cracking humour is essential.

Blayne Welsh (2018, 36–37) also describes the crucial role of humour in First Nations storytelling in relation to Viral:

Just as our ancestors have done for thousands of years, in Viral, community and inmate audiences were given permission to laugh at the everyday trauma of living with hepatitis C, and being incarcerated, providing the opportunity to potentially make some light of their immediate realities.

As discussed in Chap. 3, Maryrose Casey (2013) notes that many of the monodramas in her study used humour to undercut trauma and the painful experiences of racial prejudice. Jacob Boehme’s Blood on the Dancefloor provided a unique lens on the issue of HIV by incorporating irreverent “black humour” (Campbell and Graffam 2018, 352). Incorporating humour is therefore much more than just a way to engage audiences and pull them into the health messaging. As First Nations scholar Angeline Hurley (2015) states, “Considering the impact of colonisation, racism, conflict and oppression, the health and wellbeing of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples prevails through humour.”

Strong Acting and Performance Skills

The strength of the acting and performance skills demonstrated by cast members since Chopped Liver premiered in 2006 is another element identified throughout our research as being critical to the success of the health education works. While applied or educational theatre’s artistic value is often criticised in comparison to mainstream or mainstage productions, Kamarra has always maintained a sense of determination that high production values, acting, and performance skills must not be compromised in these works. Audience feedback for Viral highlighted how important this element was in conveying the story and messaging:Verse

Verse So powerfully, very moving. The acting was wonderful. Thank you. I really enjoyed this play. Honestly think yous [sic] are very good actors and should continue your plays. The actors drew us in and had us there the whole time which is the best thing you can to so well done to all of yous [sic]. Great performance, great acting, really engaging. I love the realness. Thank you for spreading the word and encouraging healing in the community. I thought the acting and overall performance was superb. Fantastic performance and strong ensemble work. Amazing performances. Each actor was beautifully connected and committed throughout the whole performance! Brilliant work. (Viral 2018/2019, audience guest books and surveys)

This supports Peter Waples-Crowe’s assertion cited earlier that the performances provided an example of “Aboriginal excellence” that would reinforce a sense of empowerment and positive identity among audiences, as discussed further in Chap. 6.

In casting these performances, Ilbijerri has always recognised the need for actors to be both captivating in performance and grounded in their ability to connect with community members in an intimate, non-theatre space. While in theatre in education actor-teachers are traditionally known to draw together skills in performance, pedagogy, and audience engagement (Cooper 2013), we argue that there is a deeper cultural practice at play in these works. As Melodie Reynolds-Diarra pointed out, the performances open a collective space for healing, which endows the performers with a sense of relational responsibility (Wilson 2008): “You give this story and then it’s like they give their stories back. …So, in that, there’s almost like an alchemy that kind of happens, as an exchange that happens.” Melodie went on to say that this required performers, particularly in spaces such as prisons, to be open-hearted and non-judgemental.

The idea of performers in these works building relational skills and “giving back” to communities is also discussed in more detail in Chap. 6; however, several of the actors involved discussed how the nature of the work built their skills as performers. The health education works produced by Ilbijerri have been a strong training ground for First Nations actors who have gone onto mainstage theatre, film, and television. Melodie Reynolds-Diarra observed,

I suppose as an actor it was one of the biggest … challenge[s] in honing your skills and, for a start, doing a two hander because anything with a small amount of actors or a solo is pretty daunting because you’re holding the energy for that long of a show in general.

Melodie went on to describe how particularly challenging this was when also trying to deliver a health message at the same time but that the simplicity of Chopped Liver, as described earlier by Nazaree Dickerson, enabled her to develop strong skills in communicating the story: “As an actor, that’s a beautiful challenge to work with and to use your craft is playing the different facets of this story and going wholeheartedly into them as well.”

As discussed above, Jesse Butler talked about how the authenticity of the performances and the challenge of delivering a convincing performance inside a prison helped hone his acting skills. Viral tour manager Mary Quinsacara supported this in her recollections: “What I observed with Jesse is how when we were in those particular spaces it’s like he had to put on a top, top fucking performance to sell it” (interview, 2020). Jesse described his personal journey of developing these skills in a community context:

The places you’re performing in, sometimes kitchens, libraries, just a room between another room, yeah, which at first I guess is pretty intimidating. … You look out into the audience while you’re performing and you’re seeing … people who are in these situations that you’re actually trying to tell a story about instead of just a theatre audience. So, yeah just I guess the shock to begin with, but then also that finding comfortability in performing in a community centre.

Jesse’s journey highlights the important skill of “selling” the characters to a community audience who are experts in the lived experiences being portrayed on stage. Isaac Drandic pointed out that there needed to be an instant sense of trust or rapport between audience and performers.

If they don’t have that kind of confidence in you, and you don’t have the confidence in yourself, then something’s going to fall. Something’s not going to quite connect.

The authenticity of the characters, combined with excellent performance skills and perhaps the proximity of performances being delivered in non-theatre spaces, sometimes led audience members to sustain their belief in characters after the play had finished and the yarning circle commenced. Isaac Drandic suggested that in Chopped Liver, many audience members assumed that he and the other actors shared the same truths and life stories as the characters they were playing. He highlighted how this created a safe space, enabling audiences to open up and speak more candidly about their personal experiences with hepatitis C and other issues. Melodie Reynolds-Diarra agreed: “A lot of the time they thought that that was us on stage; that was our story. … So we got a lot of people’s medical history and personal stuff of how they’d gotten [hep C] as well.” Shannon Hood described a similar experience in Viral.

One of the Elders actually thought I had hep C and I was like, no, no, I was just acting. I don’t have it, it’s okay, I’m healthy. [Laughs] Yeah, she looked pretty relieved to find out that I didn’t have it.

Conclusion

In addition to these most frequently cited aspects of performance aesthetics in the health education works, practitioners and audience members recognised additional elements such as set design, music, and energy/pace/tempo as being important. Like many touring educational productions, the majority of the works had minimal set design and props, relying instead on the skills of performers and the power of the writing to carry the stories. In Chopped Liver, the set consisted of five red boxes that were arranged in various formations to represent different objects and worlds. As described in Chap. 2, the Viral set was more symbolic and featured an original score, composed by small sound, that included theme songs for each character, elevating the production values to a level beyond its predecessors and providing another strong point of engagement for audiences. The elements described in this chapter therefore all contributed to the strength of these works as gripping yarns that first and foremost engaged and entertained audiences in the emotional arc and journeys of characters who were specifically drawn to reflect the complexity and diversity of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities. The sophistication of the works was integral to their power in deftly walking the line between entertainment and education, effectively promoting audience engagement and connection, and supporting the health education and messaging while also speaking to the wider social and political contexts within which such health inequities exist. As such, we argue that they sit comfortably within the wider canon of contemporary First Nations theatre in Australia, making a compelling contribution to dramaturgies of strength, wellbeing, and resistance. These ideas are further developed in the next chapter, where we discuss the third and final theme within our study, examining how the works engaged audiences in the health messaging and information and created culturally safe spaces for challenging stigma and promoting community empowerment and self-determination.