Our favourite places from our childhoods, just like the movies or books that we loved when we were little, often aren’t the same when we return to them. Sometimes it’s the place that has changed – but most of the time, we are what’s different. We might be more grown up, more sensitive, perhaps we are more at home in the qualities that set us apart from others – but all the while, we’re still searching for that inner little kid who just loved something wholeheartedly. For E, that thing is swimming.
Mununjali Yugambeh poet Ellen van Neerven’s debut work for the stage, swim, follows our protagonist (played by Baad Yawuru actor Dani Sib) as they return to the public pool after a long time away. The change room, the act of undressing, and the journey to the water are all obstacles that E must navigate – and as a genderfluid Blak person, the simple practice of going for a swim is a fraught, anxiety-inducing experience.
With its meditative visuals and some shining moments, it is well worth diving in...
E’s story is delivered through repetitive, rhythmic phrases. It’s a slow, meditative form of speaking that is most effective when accompanied by bursts of theatrical imagery. Samuel James’ vivid video design brings an otherworldly tone to Romanie Harper’s set design – a large cross-section of a pale tiled pool, much like the council pool you’d find down the road in most small Aussie towns. The action takes place above and below the water, linked by a metal ladder. Alongside Brendon Boney’s rumbling sound design and composition, Karen Norris’ instinctive lighting design plays with the shadows and depths of the water, adding further visual delights to the poetry happening on stage. In a particularly harmonious moment, all of these elements come together during a clever passage about mirrors – van Neerven’s prose is paired with multiplying projections of E and sharp pieces of movement as they face the many versions of themself.
At other times, the writing seems to drag, and the piece struggles to satisfyingly weave together all of the concepts it sets out to discuss. There are genuinely funny and joyful sequences, featuring a cute lifeguard with pink shark socks dancing to the music in her headphones while E watches on, a crush swelling in their chest. Heavier scenes meanwhile take us to the depths of E’s childhood traumas, their turbulent adolescence, and the dark side of competitive swimming. The light and dark in this story are kept very separate, and this can be somewhat jarring. What could have been a deeper meditation on all of the interlocking parts of E’s identity and the politics of public pools in Australia (as recently as the 1960s, Aboriginal people were routinely banned from pools) washes out as a somewhat surface-level snapshot.
Andrea James directs swim with a gentle hand, playing with height and space by placing the actors above and below the water line, and transposing other scenes into voiceovers accompanied by recorded dialogue and dreamy visual projections. Sib plays E with strength and fervour, carrying the more difficult parts of the text in their precise movements and steady voice. Sandy Greenwood plays the remainder of the characters in the story, and the most tender moments of her performance come as E’s beloved Aunty, tenderly guiding and supporting them through their struggles with identity, with culture, and with the whiteness that surrounds them.
A tender new work, swim is an interesting experiment in the crossover of poetry and theatre. There are growing pains to be smoothed out, but there is an interesting concept at heart that could really shine if developed further. With its meditative visuals and some shining moments, it is overall well worth diving into swim for a taste of what’s to come.
Griffin Theatre Company presents the debut season of swim at Carriageworks – as part of the Stages Season, alongside Belvoir’s Counting and Cracking and Marrugeku’s Cut the Sky – before it travels to Yugambeh Country (Gold Coast) for an exclusive season on Country at BLEACH* Festival. Playing in Sydney until July 27, 2024. Tickets range from $37-$72 (Mob Tix and Rush Tix are $25) and you can purchase tickets here.
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