We all have those little things that get us through the mundane and sometimes uncomfortable motions of life. But choosing to ignore the things that eat away at the fibre of our being comes at a cost. Triple X is a profound and commanding new Australian play that asks us to question how much of ourselves we are willing to sacrifice for the pursuit of happiness and the people we love.
It’s been a long time between works for the two-time award-winning playwright, comedian and proud trans woman Glace Chase. After a pandemic-induced hiatus from Brisbane’s Queensland Theatre and multiple delays in 2021 for its Sydney opening, Triple X is on a mission to provide audiences with a trans love story that’s actually told from the trans perspective.
It is, of course, absurd that providing a trans person with the opportunity to create work around their lived experience is somehow groundbreaking. Transness has been in the public eye a lot lately, from J.K Rowling’s senior moments on Twitter to Mark Latham’s Parental Primacy and Religious Discrimination Bill, but the voices of trans people themselves are also missing from public discussions. It seems like now is the perfect time for Glace to retake the spotlight.
Triple X was developed through Sydney Theatre Company’s Rough Draft program, which allowed Glace to reveal a deep level of vulnerability in the public arena, drawing on her own experience of working in the New York drag scene and the challenges of pursuing love as a trans woman.
Directed by Sydney Theatre Company’s associate director Paige Rattray (The Beauty Queen of Leenane), Triple X is the story of a Wall Street banker Scotty (Josh McConville) slowly drowning in the pressures of masculinity while supporting his overbearing mother (Christen O'Leary), lesbian activist sister (Contessa Treffone), high society fiancée Kymberly, while also managing a problematic reliance on illicit substances. To bypass the crushing expectations of his outwardly picture-perfect life, Scotty finds fleeting moments of happiness in his affair with Dexie (Glace Chase), a trans woman and performer he met at a local bar. But with an imminent marriage and the demands of his family dragging him back to reality, how long can Scotty keep up this double life before his two worlds collide?
While the production markets itself as a trans love story, the writing, production and quality of performance holds its own as a dark romantic comedy that features a trans character. The plot explores themes of generational trauma, capitalism, privilege, suicidality and the toxicity that comes with gender roles. While Dexie’s character is trans, her story can resonate with so many women both cis and trans who constantly find themselves accepting a love that is destined to fall short, simply because no one had ever been brave enough to exceed their expectations.
Triple X holds space for challenging and multilayered topics but never feels crowded or overwhelming, thanks to the script's use of humour. The writing creates a ‘trauma sandwich’, a technique also expertly executed by the likes of stand-up visionary Hannah Gadsby. Emotionally charged scenes are wedged between topical and on-the-nose jokes delivered by caricatures of lesbian vegans and finance bros, providing the audience with permission to laugh without guilt at some of the gut-wrenching realities of life.
The story moves through timelines, with each transition smoothly executed with intelligent lighting (Ben Hughes) and sound (Kelly Ryall) adjustments taking you from the dingy club scene of New York drag bars to Scotty's upscale Manhattan loft apartment. The set design conceptualised by Renée Mulder and realised by Jeremy Allen is simple yet stylistic, purposeful and effective. Intimacy and fight director Nigel Poulton ensures every inch of the set is used in a thoughtful way to further the storyline – including one of the most awkward sex scenes you’ll witness, and hopefully never experience first hand.
Dexie and Scotty’s tumultuous love story acts as a vessel to peel off the layers of identity Scotty has constructed and to re-evaluate the purpose of the life he has created. The story arc is hinged on the idea the pair are inextricably drawn to one another, and this is built by the actors' powerful chemistry, as their characters share deeply intimate moments of pain, passion and desire. It’s clear Scotty is stuck, and Dexie is in a constant transient state – but is she the destination? This is the reality of romance for many trans people who are often seen as a fetish, an experiment or a shameful desire forced to be kept a secret by the heteronormative strict gender roles that infiltrate our subconscious telling us how to be and who is deemed worthy of our love.
Much the same as how heterosexual folks fall into the trap of a mortgage, marriage and babies, trans people too often lean into the idea that they are destined to be alone, seeking out only momentary happiness instead of daring to demand more. But Dexie is a worthy love interest, and she is here to show us that trans people are worthy of showing up as their whole selves, and should expect nothing less than a love worthy of a romantic comedy.