Photography by Croz (@tomeybonesandtheghoulpatrol on Instagram)
'Dumb Kids' touches on themes of course language, sexual references, themes of Homophobia, references to sexual assault and references of drug use. If in need of help, call Lifeline at 13 11 14.
This week we paid a visit to Marrickville to watch the opening night of UTS Backstage’s final production of the year, Dumb Kids. Directed by Matt Dorahy and written by Jacob Parker, Dumb Kids hilariously captures the trials and tribulations of a group of Year 11 students as they attempt to discover their identities, sexualities, and individualities, all while searching for a date for formal. Dumb Kids is a spectacularly chaotic production that addresses the unspoken questions we all ask ourselves in our teens; am I gay? Am I subversive enough to be a lesbian? Am I ready to have sex? Who am I?
Nestled in the warmth of the Addison Road Community Organisation, with its narrow roads and heavy tree cover, the Flight Path Theatre cradles the intimacy of the play in its palms. Its first night is full of talented actors and a packed audience, and the energy of the space truly sings. The black box format of the theatre created a space where the audience, too, can giggle and feel included in the gossip of teenage lunchtime conversation.
The lights go out, the crowd falls silent, and the play opens with a rush of colours, sounds, and movement. The stage is so close, the actors are so close, and immediately we are back in Year 11. The clique of talented actors move to the steady beat of the music. Colours, reminiscent of Euphoria, light up their school uniforms and hair. They play and move expertly, utilising rhythm, levelling, a minimalistic setting, and humour, to capture our attention and hold it. We are left wanting more and more.
Set on the playground of an Australian high school, Dumb Kids follows a group of ten Year 11 students trying to plan their school formal and navigate all the complications that come with it. As a heartbreakingly relatable attempt to tackle issues faced by queer individuals in today’s society, and queer youth in particular, Dumb Kids is a play about questioning and hope bookended by all the indie coming-of-age energy of a good teenage drama. Due to its emotion-forward storyline, a potential risk for boredom and a slow pace arises, but this is not the case at all thanks to Parker’s polyphonic writing and the sense of immersion that the play brings. The cast combines artful direction and their personal explorations into their characters to maintain a contagious energy and quirkiness.
The heart within the piece beats loud and strong under Dorahy’s guidance — their intentional and masterful choices with blocking and movement, combined with the simply gorgeous lighting and soundscape, allows for chaotic and contemporary comedy, absurd meditation sequences, and STD rants to make way for tender confessions and a sense of emotional intimacy that is difficult to nail.
The cast’s affection and support for each other bleeds through their characters to create not just a play but an entire heartfelt world within this Marrickville theater. Everyone heightens and builds performances off each other to create a magical tension between tender warmth and loneliness, community and isolation, fear and hope. The cast does an amazing job at being so distinctly different, which can be tricky in a tight ensemble show, while simultaneously managing to perfectly unite to form a fluid monolith of emotion.
Dumb Kids will have you leaving the theatre with the questions that burn in the heart of the seventeen-year-old inside you answered, but will also leave your adult self with many new ones. Dumb Kids addresses some heavy themes, mostly through humour, however, things do take a more serious tone later in the play, touching on some serious issues plaguing young Australians.
Toxic masculinity is covered comedically and expertly through the talented Emily McKenzie’s performance as Otis. Otis is this extravagant caricature of masculinity – think frat guy mixed with bro-core, a touch of bogan lust, and a sprinkle of hateful gamer-boy. Otis allows the audience to understand the pressures placed on young Aussie boys to fit in, take nothing seriously, and never, ever, cry. McKenzie’s performance acts as a necessary comic relief during some heated scenes, and will leave you laughing wildly throughout at the ridiculousness and homosexually-charged nature of their character that may as well be Andrew Tate’s wet dream.
Homophobia, particularly internalised homophobia, is heart-wrenchingly conveyed through Toby Rowe’s performance as Harry. Rowe excellently captures the fear of coming out, of having everyone look at you in a different way, of having to submit to a label, of everyone knowing something so deeply personal, intimate, and private about yourself. Rowe reveals the societal expectations forced down the throats of young individuals and the hidden necessity to conform under the unrelenting eye of your peers.
Sex and safety is tackled in this production using a mix of humour and drama. STD’s are addressed comically through Vish Kaveen’s high-energy and hysterically funny performance as Eddie, which progresses into discussing other issues such as slut-shaming and sexism through a more sensitive and serious approach. Online safety and consent are discussed heavily without sugar-coating in the third act of the production. Dean Alexander’s chilling performance as Will in these scenes will bring tears to your eyes. Through the expression and action that he ties into his performance, we are urged to take responsibility for our online safety and to ensure that consent and the dangers of peer-pressure are recognised and taught across the country.
Identity, particularly the discovery of identity as a young, queer, individual, is portrayed with new insights through Sabine Anais’ performance as Maria. Through Anais’ performance, we are made to understand the ways in which queer people are pressured to conform to stereotypes and tropes in order to fit neatly into a certain category of queerness. Anais shows us a hero’s journey of abandoning, gaining, and accepting authentic and inauthentic identities through a playful exchange between humour and drama.
Finally, love, both platonic and romantic, are beautifully portrayed through Ella Sullivan’s and Kate Anthonisz’s performances as Scarlett and Trish. Their tender performances showcase the blossoming love between female friends (and maybe something more) while they also discover themselves and each other.
Oscillating between raucously funny and seriously heartbreaking, Dumb Kids is everything young Australian theatre should be. It’s hilarious, authentic, and gritty in a way that captures the mess of being an adolescent and figuring out who you are in a beautiful and poignant manner. The content of the play has been treated with such sensitivity and intention to create a moving statement on queerness, growing up, and how awfully hard being a teenager truly is. So much of the beauty of live theater is in its ephemerality, and Dumb Kids lives in this transient space through its short season and its exploration of youth with grace, heart, and soul. It is raw, it is refreshing, and it is electric.
You can watch Dumb Kids this Friday and Saturday night at the Flight Path Theatre in Marrickville. Be sure to catch this beautiful piece of work before its run ends. You can buy tickets here or by heading to the bio of @utsbackstage on Instagram.