It is a truth universally acknowledged that a work of theatre that hits all the right notes – that is, a balance of references to both timeless works of literature as well as local goings-on, smattered with shocks of laughter and high drama – is at once more life affirming and delightful than anything you can watch on a screen.
Drawing on Jane Austen’s drawing room dramas, this outrageous satire set in the post-plebiscite Harbour City is a knowing and loving lampooning of gay Sydney, suburban Australia and period dramas. But Hubris & Humiliation doesn’t merely lean on the laughs, of which there are many. This brand spankin’ new Australian play props up its tongue-in-cheek humour on a foundation of engaging drama and cultural references. After all, it takes a certain intellectual quality of theatre to get away with lines like “It's just a little prostate tickle, I can live without it!” on the esteemed stage of the Sydney Theatre Company.
When his mother Bernice (Celia Ireland of Wentworth fame, in fine form) is left destitute by a dodgy suitor, Elliott (Roman Delo, Bump) a naive wallflower from the Sunshine State, is packed off to Sydney to find a suitably wealthy man to marry. As his estranged uncle Roland (veteran actor Andrew McFarlance, who absolutely eats up the scenery in the role of a wealthy elder gay) attempts to show him the ropes, it could actually be perky young pink-haired workmate Chantel (Henrietta Enyonam Amevor) who has a better grasp of the gay dating scene of today. Will Elliott actually find true romance with uptight opera director William (Ryan Panizza, Sissy) or will his lifelong crush on his best friend Warren (also played by Panizza) finally lead somewhere? Meanwhile, Elliott’s sister Paige (Melissa Kahraman) has her own romantic woes, with lovesick boyfriend Brendan (Mathew Cooper, City of Gold) set to propose any day, oblivious to her disinterest.
This marks the STC debut of Brisbane-based playwright Lewis Treston, and the more you watch, it makes total sense that this show came about after he quit his retail job to pursue researching the meaning of “camp” at the University of Queensland. Treston’s script contains nods to the obtuse Australiana-tinted humour of Kath & Kim and Muriel’s Wedding juxtaposed with Austen references that range from the only-the-superfans-will-get-it deep cuts, to the hilariously obvious (cosplaying as Elizabeth and Mr Darcy at a costume party). Likewise, while there are some references to metropolitan queer culture that will make only certain insiders in the room laugh especially hard, but everyone in the audience will get a kick out of the proceedings if they know what’s good for them.
As the outlandishness builds with the ferocious, unyielding joy of a good Mardi Gras party, this production somehow manages never to get too ridiculous to buy in to (yes, even when a wacky inflatable tube man bursts out of the stage). Stereotypes are deployed – mainly those of bogans and gay men – but they never go so far as to get mean (well, perhaps except for the stereotypes of painfully woke and cruel nepo babies, who arguably deserve it).
Director Dean Bryant (who received the Sydney Theatre Award in 2022 for his direction of Fun Home) brings his signature flair and keeps the action moving along seamlessly on what has the potential to be a rather static stage. Making their STC debut as assistant director, multi-hyphenate comedian, drag king and performance maker Natali Caro (Seeking Representation) no doubt lends an air of authenticity to this farcical imagining of Sydney’s queer enclaves that hide in plain sight.
Isabel Hudson’s design frames the stage in powder blue and gold-rimmed drawing room décor, which somehow transplants us just as easily between a Sunshine Coast RSL and a Sydney mansion. The costuming levels up the camp characterisations, and Uncle Roland’s ornate house slippers trimmed with purple feathers will now live rent-free in my mind until the end of days.
There’s something special about living in a time where queer people can make fun of themselves on the mainstage of one of the country’s most esteemed theatre companies. At first glance, you might assume that all the LGBTQ+ representation present and accounted for in Hubris & Humiliation starts and ends with gay men. But as the farce unfolds, a sincere and heartwarming message about the fluid possibilities of love and attraction comes to light. With many of the actors working double-time, there’s even a kitschy nod to gender fluidity (Melissa Kahraman pumps just as much dynamic presence into an appearance as one of Elliott's peculiar, moustachioed wealthy suitors as she does with his impulsive sister).
Ceaselessly entertaining, STC has hit all the right warbling notes with this contribution to the Sydney WorldPride program, and its first production out the gates for its 2023 season. You’ll be kicking yourself if you don’t break up all the Mardi Gras parties with this evening of camp theatre.
Hubris & Humiliation deserves to be seen by as many people as possible, and then turned into a future-cult-classic movie. Mark my words.
Hubris & Humiliation plays at Sydney Theatre Company’s Wharf 1 Theatre, Walsh Bay, until March 4. Get your tickets here.