Writer: Bren Gosling
Director: Marlie Haco
Expansively titled, Proud is a piece that attempts to wrangle identity, nationality, sexuality, and queerness in the multicultural epicentre of the capital, often biting off more than it can chew. Following Roland (Taofique Folarin) as he navigates life as a newly-out-of-the-closet gay single father; sparks a spontaneous romance with street-sweeper Amir (Andrei Maniata); and renegotiates his relationship with his son Gary (Kaine Hatukai) —Proud opens a theatrical Pandora’s box of social issues with little of resolution of them, nor real interrogation, despite its visually striking design and appealing naturalistic book.
Adapted from Gosling’s novel The Street Sweeper, its dramatic title Proud becomes somewhat of a misnomer for this production, leaving its central topics of national and sexual identity talked about rather than portrayed. It leaves us feeling as though a treasure trove of theatrical experience is left just out of arm’s reach when glimpses of these moments shine through in Roland’s code-switching patois, or his abstractly portrayed sex-scenes with Amir, which — though well-performed — leave us wanting more.
Despite describing itself as a ‘queer love story’, on the face of it Proud adheres largely to the tropes of a contemporary naturalism: portraying rather than dissecting the identities, conflicts, and trauma that it wishes to illuminate. In its conventionally naturalistic dialogue, mixed with more abstract movement in transitional moments, Proud fights against its own form, desperately trying to find ways to become transgressive through the tools of its own drama without finding a way through.
Immediately, the production’s aesthetic is clear, striking, and contemporary, as a sparse set is framed with white neon lights that wrap around the intimate playing space at the King’s Head Theatre. Ben Jacob’s lighting design shapes carves out an aesthetic that might otherwise feel bland in this space-between-spaces, and Ákos Lustyik’s composition and sound design is entrancing, creating a sense of intimacy in the earlier moments of the play’s action. The design itself is intriguing — Justin Nardella establishes a versatile basketball court turned apartment turned street-scene, but considering the majority of the action takes place within Roland’s space it feels like a lost opportunity for a more profound exploration of what this new space means for Roland’s character (and the other characters who come to inhabit it).
Proud is a production with heart and the will to make change, however it doesn’t quite manage to fulfil its own expectations by telling its queer stories in queer ways. Beneath its surface, it feels as though there is a wealth of questions about identity, sexuality, and intersectionality that we are desperate to see explored in greater theatrical detail.