Late 1940s, the outskirts of Bordertown. Riley and his brother, Jack, are under the care of their Nan. Their parents have long-ago left to find work. Riley thinks they will be back one day, but Jack resents the fact they have been left behind and doesn’t expect to ever see them again.
Teenagers about
to become men, their family is at the whims of the local authorities; Blak children
under constant threat of the government taking them away from their land and
their family and giving them to white parents to turn them into “civilised
members of society”.
Writer Brodie
Murray is passing on the story of his family in The Whisper. He spoke to
his own Nan about her life taking children from Bordertown to Swan Hill to keep
them safe; children who would call themselves brother and sister all their
lives, even if they weren’t related.
This
post-war story, though almost eighty-years-old, feels like it should be part of
a far-older history of settlement and colonialism. That it is so close – in the
lifetime of our parents and grandparents – reminds the audience how far we
still have to go to fix the wrongs of our recent history.
The details
are so evocative; settler colonialism has seeped into their lives. Nan lining
up tins of beef outside their home to prove to roving police that she could
feed her family. Young Riley is obsessed with Aussie Rules football. Brother Jack
has fallen in love with a local white girl. Nan complains about the kids taking
the Lord’s name in vain.
And one
night they have to pick up, load a horse and cart and travel to Victoria. Pop
Ray appears out of the bush and a sudden reunion quickly turns into a harrowing
three-hundred-kilometre journey for the frightened family.
The story
of The Whisper is very simple but is full of feeling – strength,
resilience and a deep despair. How can these children start their lives if they
might be stolen from family and country in an instant?
Greg Fryer
brings a lot of quiet strength to the character of Pop, while also doubling –
in threatening silhouette – as the police who are hunting them down. Melodie
Reynolds-Diarra’s Nan is fiery; determined to protect her kids, while always
scared to lose another.
Bella Neba
and playwright Murray as Jack and Riley play off each with energy and humour,
though Murray doesn’t always project well. Neba’s Jack is in a tougher position
– if his relationship with a white girl is discovered, he will be jailed or
killed. But while the stakes of his story are clearer, the nebulous threat of the
authorities hiding in the shadows creates a dread throughout the piece.
It must
have been hard to take family history and develop a play around the stories Murray’s
nan told him as a child and as research for this play. The specificity makes
the play rich, but it concludes in an ambiguous way that I didn’t feel wholly
satisfied with. Leaving the audience with questions is fine, but I think the
story could have benefitted from some more narrative clarity.
Spending
time with these characters and hearing details of their lives in a time not so
far removed from our own makes The Whisper truly fascinating, though.
- Keith Gow, Theatre First
The
Whisper is playing
at Fortyfive Downstairs until February 25
Photo: Emma Salmon
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