Christos Tsiolkas’ novel Loaded was written almost three decades ago. It has previously been adapted into the award-winning 1998 film Head On starring Alex Dimitriades, and in 2020 as a reimagined audio play for the Malthouse Theatre by director Stephen Nicolazzo and Dan Giovannoni. Nicolazzo and Giovannoni have now taken their auditory work and developed it into a new stage show, with nods to Tsiolkas’ original work with subtle shades of nuance for contemporary times.
Danny Ball (A Beginner’s Guide to Grief) stars as Ari, a 19-year-old, unemployed, gay Greek man trying to navigate the conservatism of his cultural community and figure out who he is. We first meet Ari dressed in Adidas blue shorts, a white sleeveless top and red sneakers as he relays an hour-long monologue about his family, friends and notable Melbourne locations. Ari continues to swerve parental expectations to get married to a woman and find a job, choosing to dive into Melbourne’s queer club scene instead.
The show starts with a Zorba performance to Greek electronic dance music, which eventually evolves into a disco beat – a symbol of Ari’s two realities. Music plays a big part in the narrative storytelling, as Ari expresses his passion for Nile Rodgers; details the empowerment of Saudi women in M.I.A’s 'Bad Girls'; the pulsating beats of Kanye West’s 'Black Skinhead'; and notes how a decaying Brunswick home featured in Beyoncé’s 'No Angel'.
Nathan Burmeister's set of an archway made from dark turquoise tiles and a revolving stone stage is minimal but impactful, relying on Ari's frenetic energy and fast-paced delivery to tell the story. Ari athletically jumps across the platform – standing, sitting, kneeling, lunging and dancing – showcasing the exuberance of a young man still in his prime and unencumbered by reality.
At times, the plot felt muddled as the story shifts between various scenarios, contexts and people. Loaded was intended to close Malthouse’s 2020 season before it was thwarted by Covid and reimagined into an audio play. The words are beautifully scripted but dense – like an extension of the audio play – making it hard to focus on the dialogue and physical performance simultaneously. Demarcations used for the audio play may have helped weave the disparate locations and characters together more seamlessly – which the dance numbers occasionally do.
It takes Ball a little time to warm up and slip into the rhythm of his character due to the constant movement required to demonstrate Ari’s consumption of various illicit substances. There is increasing stillness in the second half as the stage descends into darkness, and a spotlight highlights Ball’s larger-than-life presence – allowing audiences a space to absorb the emotional brevity of the story. A standout moment in the show is when Ari explicitly describes a sexual encounter in an alleyway with a man named George, channelling hyper-masculinity, aggression and vulnerability with delicacy.
Ari’s honest descriptions of Melbourne’s suburban divides and their working class, racial and queer history still resonate today. From the industrial vista that identifies Brunswick’s Sydney Road to Richmond's public housing and the “rich cunt apartments” in St Kilda. Ari crassly speaks about not wanting to be restricted by modern words and delineations that shape global racial, gender and gay politics, defiantly stating that “I’m not white; I’m a wog”. Social and cultural humour gets the loudest laughs as Ari imitates his friend Joe’s assertion that “hipsters don’t suck cock malaka, cum’s not vegan!”
A solo performance is no easy feat, and Ball does well to capture Ari’s youth, unsureness and adolescent hopes and desires. A heart-warming story told with visceral punch, exploring what it means to be Greek and queer in the streets of Melbourne without being boxed in.