The following review is an exception to the usual ArtsHub format, following the playwright’s notes about audiences and our reviewer’s desire to address the work respectfully.
The Box, a collaboration between Nathan Maynard, a Trawlwoolway man and Rob Braslin a Wakka Wakka man, is a confronting play. It is set in the fictional suburb of Bowendale, but drawn from their own lived experiences. “Bowey” stands in for several post-war public housing suburbs in lutruwita/Tasmania branded with the demographic term “low socioeconomic status”.
The plot centres on the Maslin family: single mum Mandy, her ambitious 17-year-old son Jhye, his friend Hermes and Markus, Jyhe’s big brother, whose release from prison and return home brings conflict and violence. It is a tragedy, viscerally depicting the hardships that make it so difficult to escape “the box” of public housing. Maynard explains their ambition for the work, stating: ‘This story needs to be told because theatre is not a safe space for people from housing commission areas. It’s never going to be a safe space until we see ourselves onstage’
Asher Warren: Maynard’s statement identifies my privilege as a white, male, middle-class theatre academic. I think he’s right. The theatre is not always a safe or welcoming space for everyone. The Box is a complex work and I am not the priority audience. So I reached out to my colleague Denise Robinson, a palawa woman who has lived across lutruwita/Tasmania, to ask if she would be willing to write with me about The Box.
Denise Robinson: I agree this play was confronting and it unapologetically pulled no punches. I found myself leaning forward and feeling each character’s story as it unfolded. I also found myself reflecting on people I know and seeing them in the story. It was close to the bone, raw and at times incredibly painful. At the same time, I was moved by the depth of authenticity and honesty in the storytelling. It opened an incredibly vulnerable space for all of us … actors and audience alike.
AW: The play started with Mandy furiously cleaning the house for the council housing inspectors, celebrating six months “off the gear”, with ambitions to get herself and Jhye out of “Bowey”.
DR: Actually, it was Markus who audiences saw first. As you entered the theatre you were presented with a stark, stud frame of a home and then you spotted this figure standing upstage right, with his back to the audience. His stance was so still I started to wonder if it was a dummy and then, when he moved ever so slightly stretching his neck to the right then left, the tension seemed to hover – there, but not there. I was quite intrigued by this and found it hard to take my eyes off him.
AW: Yes, a looming spectre over the household. Carrie McLean was dynamic as Mandy, full of maternal care and good humour, but presenting multiple dimensions to the character, slowly revealing the scars from a history of abuse.
DR: Mandy’s role was executed so believably. She just wanted to get it right, yet desperately conflicted between her own failings and loyalties. Her role was pivotal to the whole play… Her lack of strength while on the gear set Marcus up for a life of visceral anger and hatred. Mandy getting clean and aiming to move out of Bowendale with Jhye fed the sibling rivalry, and left Markus feeling abandoned. Who did she love the most? You could feel the push/pull of Mandy’s existentialism – this tiny woman having lived an enormous and hard-fought life. McLean certainly delivered this role to perfection and moved me in her portrayal.
AW: That rivalry between the two sons was also key to the way this play explores intergenerational trauma, with Mandy, Markus and Jhye all at different but interconnected points in a cycle. The cast formed a strong ensemble, with Corey Saylor-Brunskill tremendous as Markus, dripping menace with his physicality and voice, and Nelson Clay brimming with confidence as Jhye.
DR: Jhye was an interesting character. He presented a complex young man, sometimes reflective and aspirational, and yet naive and impressionable. But it was his wariness of his brother, reflected through bravado, that I found interesting. The deep resentment and rivalry both brothers harboured simmered, and this awareness seemed to direct a sense of expectation in the narrative.
AW: We haven’t talked about Hermes, and a well-measured performance by Harrison Collis Oates, who found the right tone to keep the story moving.
DR: Hermes seems to hover at the edge of this play, but his character represented the code of being a “Bowey boy”. His role was as the “extended” family member, Jhye’s trusted “bro” and “bestie”. While not explicit, there was the understanding that he needed to be a part of the Maslin tribe to have a sense of identity. His character carried the complexity of the larrikin seeking to make others laugh, but at the same time being the butt of others’ taunts. This was powerfully played out through one scene where the “code” was broken.
AW: Code is a great way to put it. The play was written by two Aboriginal artists, but not framed explicitly as an Aboriginal story. Rather, it made subtle, coded gestures that intertwined identity and class. I knew I was an outsider to this story, and there was a deliberate choice to not explain or translate this world for me. It shifted the onus of storytelling and listening.
DR: I think this play presented a commentary about intergenerational institutionalised disempowerment and the vicious cycle of social systems where being “tagged” and ghettoised through deliberate segregation perpetuates the revolving door. While not specifically an Aboriginal play, it felt directed to the practice of removing Aboriginal families from their islands and homelands to be rehoused within the public housing system as a control measure.
AW: The play depicted a lot of violence – domestic, sexual and social – in a variety of ways, with some scenes hitting harder than others. Most notably, the penultimate scene was stuck in the shadows of an earlier, brutal encounter between Markus and Hermes. The confronting content was notable, as it didn’t seek catharsis like a Greek tragedy, or unpack systemic problems dispassionately like Brecht. It was also different to the Australian “classics” that stage confrontations of class and social violence, more a type of “in-yer-face” theatre.
DR: I agree; it nodded to, yet sat outside of, these classic formats. I felt it invited the audience to “be uncomfortable while we take you into our world”. Accepting that invitation we were then slammed through a lifetime of s**t in a bubble of intensity. So much was packed into this play; it was direct and strategic in its portrayal of the cyclical hamster wheel of this family’s life. When it looked like they were moving forward, upwards and potentially “out”, something pulled them back.
While an extraordinarily powerful must-see, I do feel this play in its palpable reflection of layered, complex and compounded trauma warranted more specific trigger alerts for the audience.
AW: I agree – this was an important work. It was ambitious, and a serious conversation starter. And in this sense, I’m very grateful to you, Denise, for having this conversation about the work with me.
Read: Book review: The Glass Islands, Mark Heyward
DR: Thanks for the invitation, Asher. If anything, The Box provokes us to think and engage in conversations we may not otherwise have. That’s what good theatre does, right?
The Box by Nathan Maynard and Rob Braslin
Produced by Mudlark Theatre
Director: Nathan Maynard
Set Designer: Laura Watts with Darren Willmott
Lighting Designer: Grace Roberts
Sound Designer: Chris Jackson
Dramaturges: Maeve Mhairi Macgregor, Kamarra Bell-Wykes and Tom Holloway
Cast: Corey Saylor-Brunskill, Nelson Clay, Harrison Collis-Oates, Carrie McLean
The Box was performed at The Earl Arts Centre, Launceston 24-27 July, Burnie Arts Centre Burnie 31 July-1 August and Theatre Royal Studio Theatre, Hobart 7-8 August 2024.
