“Black faggot!” shouts one man to another; “So what?” is the reply, both by the character and the play as a whole. Victor Rodger’s exploration of the experiences Pasifika gay men in Auckland, and the friends and family around them, offers a big brown middle finger, drawing from the modern history of gay narratives by grabbing onto the slur and making it a badge of pride. 

Two actors, Haanz Fa’avae-Jackson and Shimpal Lelisi, play between them nearly a dozen characters, ranging from children and teenagers to effeminate urban queers and young Samoan men on the pull. The play rapidly switches between monologues and duologues, and the actors’ rapid shifts in movement and physicality, directed sharply by Roy Ward, are executed with precision.

The material, like the characters, veers between crass, hilarious and delicate, with stories about semen stains on high-end wallpaper and disastrous late night hook-ups sitting comfortably against heartfelt accounts of coming out and the acceptance of one’s own sexuality.

The presentation is sparse: the two actors wear black and provide, where necessary, their own sound effects. This simplicity lets us focus on the power in the actors’ voices, their deft physical characterisations and the nuance in their facial expressions. This also highlights the deeply humane aspect of the story – that these are individuals stripped bare, a number of whom are struggling terribly.

Lelisi, the elder of the two, presents Semu, a confident gay man, with authority, often balancing exasperation with tenderness in a manner that anchors some of the more exaggerated characters. His portrayal of an effusive, bold island mum provides running comic relief, even as her own understanding about family, faith and sexuality complicates her outlook. 

Two of Fa’avae-Jackson’s roles in particular are played with sensitivity and complexity. Christian, a teenage member of the Destiny Church, is presented with increasing vulnerability as his homosexuality and his faith – or, at least, this particular version of the Christian faith – come into increasing conflict, and the dogmatic phrase ‘enough is enough’ comes to take on more troubled meanings. James, a young man teetering on the verge of coming out, is played with dexterity and comic flair, expressing beautifully the varying ways that he negotiates and explores his gay identity and his masculinity, learning for himself that the two are not mutually exclusive.

Running throughout the piece is a tricky combination of experiences and identities, all working to explore the complexity of intersections between faiths, ethnicities, identities, social expectations and gender expressions without attempting to tie things up too neatly – although Black Faggot is ultimately an optimistic piece, drawing from the hope offered by slow shifts in social attitudes towards LGBTI individuals and communities, including the passage of the Marriage Equality Bill. However, something about the pacing and the story arc in this instance feels a bit off, as the show seems to end abruptly.

Some of the material is certainly sexually explicit, often hilariously so, yet the actors almost never touch, and even then only in entirely tender ways. Such physical and emotional distance sits carefully within the structure of the story, as individual narrative strands that at first seem disparate are slowly revealed to be deeply interconnected. This unfurling takes potentially isolated individuals and highlights their commonality, creating, by the end of the piece, a diverse and extended family. 

Lighting is relatively straightforward – something of a necessity in the Arts Festival’s Spiegeltent – providing simple washes, some club lighting, and occasionally drawing more deliberate attention to individual movements and characters, although something to do with the plotting or the execution is, on the odd occasion, a bit rough. 

Throughout the play one of the characters, a fa’afafine artist, talks bombastically about her work on gay identity, highlight the way that art, much like plays such as this one, can work towards expressing and legitimising identity. This didactic moment challenges the palagi and straight gazes, simultaneously pushing away and staring back in a manner the refuses the power imbalance inherent in such objectification.

This self-reflexivity acknowledges that a lot of the themes and situations here aren’t new: the explorations of selfhood, the coming out stories, and the long tradition of using camp and humour to confront and challenge audiences are key features of narratives by and about gay men. Rather, this show provides voices and perspectives that are often missing. It’s the way that these stories are drawn into a specific time, place and community, and the way that initially stock characters are broken down and humanised without losing their essential features, that make Black Faggot such a powerful piece of work.

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Two actors. Black stage. Minimal lighting. Powerful stuff. 

Written as a response to the protests against New Zealand’s Civil Union Bill, Black Faggot delivers what it sets out to do: explore what it is to by gay and Samoan in New Zealand today; the challenges and triumphs of what it is to be out and proud, and the trauma of denial of who you really are for those still in the closet.

Shimpal Lelisi, best known for bro’town and Sione’s Wedding  and Haanz Fa’avae-Jackson wonderfully capture myriad characters whose stories are entwined in an exhilarating mix of comedy, drama and pathos. Both actors give great performances and embody the varied characters and ages with grace, transforming from character to character fluently.

The bold, brash opening reminds me of teaching sex education: get the rude, lewd and curious stuff out of the way at the beginning, so you can focus on the more meaningful and serious issues.  The opening maybe a challenge for some in the audience but it also allows for an exploration of deeper themes later.  Laughter relieves the nervousness around the subject matter. 

Victor Rodger cleverly crafts his play to contrast the heartbreaks and misfortunes with moments of high comedy, interweaving stories, characters, and situations. Through action and dialogue, we are introduced to characters who initially configure and confirm stereotypes. Again as the drama develops you see the dilemmas and characters develop. 

There is an honesty, rawness and energy to the script and the production, directed by Roy Ward. Whilst situations and prejudices are lampooned and shown up to be ludicrous, there is also a respect for the difficulty of coming to terms with homosexuality within certain cultures and how even being gay is also stereotyped.

Rodger confronts the audience and the stereotypes and challenges the Eurocentric view of homosexuality. This play explores what it is to be Samoan and gay and sits very much in that context. How even in a gay bar, they are ‘other’ by the very tangible reality of the dominant culture.

Music, church, rugby and macho behaviour and expectations are motifs that highlight the hypocrisy that surrounds the acceptance, or lack thereof, of homosexuality. The nature of religion that denies their sexuality is confronted and challenged. A teenager asks God, “Why make me this way if it’s wrong?” A proud mother is devastated at her son’s coming out in case he is sent to Hell. A brother laughs it off and treats the whole situation as a joke.  We recognise these scenarios and we understand them whilst also seeing the damage caused. 

In the end, though, this is a play about hope, courage and defiance. For those who struggle initially to accept who they are, or have their loved ones accept them as they are, it affirms that it does get better. 

A thoroughly entertaining and thought-provoking show and wonderfully acted.  Highly recommended.

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One of the more endearing of this play’s dozen or more characters (played by just two actors), a young guy named Christian, several times prays to God, as he has evidently been exhorted to do, to make him straight, and not gay. It makes not one scrap of difference. At the end, he reminds God that being gay, in his community, doesn’t get any easier. The programme tells you, “It’s not easy being young, Samoan and gay.” The full-on, in-your-face bravado of this play and its performers might help. These guys are as they are – accept them. 

Victor Rodger, in his author’s note in the programme, records that the writing of this play was prompted by witnessing the Destiny Church blackshirts’ march objecting to the extension of LGBT rights, through civil unions, a few years back. Somewhere within this mob, statistically, would have been at least one boy, brought along by his dad, who would sooner or later on realise he was gay himself. How sick would he feel about having taken part in such a public display of homophobia? 

Indeed, one of the many episodes within this episodic show has just such a father and son, briefly, during this very march, with the son hurting his shoulder punching the air, and having to shift to using his left arm (“Enough is enough!”), meanwhile exhibiting, unnoticed, obviously gay body language. Like much else, it’s quite funny.

Of course, things have moved on since, with same-sex marriages now legal, yet some sectors within society clearly remain quite conservative. And pale brown gays can still be insulted in the street, as “Black faggot!” or whatever. 

The two actors here are excellent, well contrasted and complement each other neatly: Taofia Pelesasa, taller, thinner, playing the gentler, more sensitive characters; Iaheto Ah Hi, shorter, stockier, the bluffer, more physical types. In one episode he’s the cheerful Samoan mum of Taofia’s character Sione, in another a flamboyant fa’afine, a male who’s adopted a female life-role.  In a couple of episodes Taofia plays Rob’s primary-school-age kid-brother, innocently giving morning talks about the doings of his big brother, without the slightest idea of the real reason why Rob and his flatmate are sharing a bed. 

Gay sex itself can have its problems. Rob and his invisible partner Michael ostensibly have sex, very noisily, in blackouts, and Rob’s complaints about consequent messes evidently lead to a break-up. Nobody takes clothes off, thanks be. Simulation only goes so far.  

The play is quite intense, played without an interval, and about the right length. With so much to notice, I enjoy it all but am glad when it stops. If I have one slight reservation, it would be that towards the end I am not always quickly sure which character is being presented – the signals might be stronger. Lighting is certainly playing its part in this quite well. 

The play had its premiere in the Basement Theatre in Auckland in 2013, directed by the present director, Roy Ward, and has gained a string of awards at Fringe festivals in Auckland, Melbourne and elsewhere. It’s R-ratedly strong stuff, with strong language. Still, it is what it is – welcome it. 

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Rave reviews from all over: two booked out performances here, the first ending with a stand-up ovation.  A latish start – some wag called out “it must be island time” – and into the hurly-burly of Auckland Samoan life we catapult.  No props, a bare stage, snatches of rhythm from hands and feet, with lighting to set the mood – and two very fine actors: Iaheto Ah Hi and Taofia Pelesasa. 

It is a potent and multi-layered story and one loses count of just how many characters there are.  Ah Hi and Pelesasa switch magically between them at a frantic pace, changing their voices and physical persona with impeccable timing.  Especially touching are Christian’s conversations with his God (Pelesasa) and Ah Hi’s impersonation of James’ mother, talking about her beautiful boy as she plucks whiskers out of her chin! 

The Nelson audience, the usual Arts Festival crowd with no more sprinkling of gays and lesbians than at any other show, handles the extremely explicit, albeit simulated, sex scenes with aplomb.  We laugh – great waves of amusement – and empathise with all the personalities.

Pelesasa, as James, is the archetypical closet gay, a poster of Dan Carter on his bedroom ceiling.  His skipping attempts are a delight, though Cousin Leticia has a lot to answer for, suggesting he can pray the gay away. 

According to a recent survey, New Zealand is the second-most gay friendly country in the world.  Presumably our Same Sex Marriage Bill has been a major factor.  Whatever, it is still much easier to be straight, not only in church communities but in many other sects that are part of our nation today.  And the point this brave and powerful two-hander makes, with large doses of humour and humanity, is that one has little choice in the matter. 

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New Zealand may be a small semi-colon at the bottom of the world but the theatre that comes from Aotearoa is unapologetically loud and proud. NZ shares her stories without pretensions or shame and always with a whopping dose of colloquial humour. For example: Black Faggot.

It’s not an unfamiliar term, especially amongst the Pacific Island and Maori community. In fact, it’s often loaded with a multitude of accompanying epithets colourful enough to make even the regular readers of Urban Dictionary blush. 

But while uncomfortable for some, the fact remains that when holding up a mirror to society it isn’t always easy to come face-to-face with the reality that stares back. And it is precisely this reality that is offered to us in Victor Rodger’s award-winning provocative work.

Packed into this explosive hour we are introduced to a range of Samoan characters: the confident older and wiser alpha male; the innocent youth trying to ‘pray the gay away’; the obsessive compulsive who has a massive hissy fit when his lover taints the bedspread; the successful fa’afafine who offers critical analysis into the power structures that have created hierarchies between the Palagi and the ‘eroticised other’; and of course a reluctant rugby player in training to please his Dad.

But perhaps the most compelling and central narrative of these multiple vignettes is the journey of James. An ‘undercover brother’ who falls in love and discovers that when he finally makes the decision to ‘come out’, his world doesn’t in fact fall apart in the way he expected. Because expectations, as the story proves time and again, aren’t always the most useful pieces of armour with which to insulate ourselves. 

The play itself occasionally adopts a slightly didactic tone but always manages to bring it back home before the preacher gets to the pulpit.  Highly visceral sequences, injections of uniquely local humour and an attitude to life enables this work to rise above the sermon. Addressing equality, tolerance, family bias and societal insularities – Black Faggot accomplishes all this without ever pretending to be anything but what the story promises. 

There is no set, both performers are dressed in black and occasionally the lighting is a tad distracting, but such is the energy and presence of Fasitua Amosa and Beulah Koale that the work needs little dressing. No gadgets, no gizmos, it is pure story that comes to life under Roy Ward’s compelling direction.

Working together in tandem, their dialogue is always well-paced, accompanied by physicality that is so well-defined it immediately transports us from story to story, rarely missing a beat. Together they are a dynamo and while some sections may be slightly less sophisticated than others, it only becomes obvious because of the overall quality of the performance. 

Heart-warming without indulging in clichés, Black Faggot creates a new space amidst the plethora of shows at this year’s Fringe 2014.

Sharp, witty and so distinctively New Zealand, you’ll be left wondering whether Pak ’n’ Save ships to Edinburgh. And how to convince your local music venue to play some tunes from Samoa and/or Kiwiland so you can bust out some of the new moves you learnt.   

FOUR STARS
(Star rating required by Edinburgh Fringe)

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Black Faggot makes a triumphant return to Auckland at the Herald Theatre.  Last seen at the 2013 Auckland Fringe Festival (with a 50% different cast), it has affectionately taken Australia and Wellington by storm.  The play has picked up numerous awards and is now heading for the international festivals including Edinburgh with a short stop at home. 

The performance at Herald Theatre is a rollercoaster of characters, places and events that illuminates the world of the Polynesian gay man as never seen before. Black Faggot is a “special and necessary play,” says director Roy Ward. “Its success surprised us all.” 

Two remarkable actors, Taofia Pelesasa and Iaheto Ah Hi, play a Pacific landscape of characters and situations as they reveal the Polynesian gay world.  They have superb timing, huge performance energy, and bare their souls as they move instantaneously from character to character with power and accuracy in series of poignant monologues and short hilarious scenes. 

All the homophobic prejudices are there, held up and demolished by the power of love, truth and affection. Black Faggot starts at the ‘Enough is Enough’ Destiny Church March. One church member marching is obviously a queer but doesn’t know it … yet.  

We meet the out and proud Samoan gay who takes no shit.  We visit nightclubs (Family) with bad white boy music, bedrooms with great and messy sex, a lecture theatre with pretentious Malamo Malo explaining the “down low poly men” (married men who are having gay sex in secret).

There is a Christian boy who does his own version of ‘This Little Light of Mine’ obviously in the secrecy of his bedroom.  There is the island mama who just “luffs” her beautiful boy who turn out to be gay and the butch brother who knew he was gay all along.  The play is full of mums, dads, brothers, lovers, in church, school and the street.  It is Auckland, the Polynesian Capital of the world.  It is our family.

Black Faggot is very clever writing by award-winning Victor Rodger (Shortland Street, My Name is Gary Cooper). He was awarded the Contemporary Pacific Artist Award from Creative New Zealand in 2013 following the sell out seasons in Auckland and Melbourne.  Black Faggot is not only perceptive and eye popping honest, it is great fun.  The audience roars at the one liners.

Roy Ward has directed Black Faggot with sensitivity and simplicity.  He allows no props, no costume changes, just the creative talent of the actors Taofia Pelesasa and Iaheto Ah Hi.  Their voices are strong, real, passionate, funny, filthy and true. 

Warning: Black Faggot contains lots of sexual references, actions and simulated sexual displays all with their clothes on.  This is a must see show – take your family.

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The idea that we need sophisticated technology to create events that could only happen in live theatre (as per Robert Lepage) is blown out of the proverbial water by Black Faggot.  

Performing the potently authentic vignettes scripted by Victor Rodger and deftly directed by Roy Ward, two extremely talented Samoan actors, Iaheto Ah Hi and Tasofia Pelesasa, in ‘basic black’, stimulate our imaginations, compel our empathy, challenge our value systems, raise our collective consciousness and entertain us hugely on a bare ‘black box’ stage. Some very simple lighting and bursts of lively music are all the technology this production employs.

A classic example of the particular being universal, it’s about being a gay Samoan in Auckland and Samoa and starts with an exchange of name-calling. What follows spans the decade from the 2004 Destiny Church ‘Enough is Enough’ march to last year’s passing of the Same Sex Marriage Bill.  

The journey of James (Pelesasa), the “undercover brother”, through family and social scenarios towards his coming out, gives the hour-long play its dramatic spine. Amid an array of delightfully drawn cameos, Tasofia Pelesasa also plays Christian, a boy who poignantly tries to “pray the gay away” and is ‘saved’, it’s suggested, not by his church but by James.

With great minimalist comic skill, Iaheto Ah Hi potently distils – among others – James’s father and mother, a fa’afafine called Miranda Malo, and a hilariously anal (if that’s the word) Rob, whose vigorous love life with the invisible but very present Michael is tainted with unwanted stains. “Outrageous!”

Whether in monologue or together in scenes, both players people the stage with memorable characters – gay, straight, male, female, Pacifica, palagi. young, middle-aged, old – in a full range of emotional states.  

All is performed with a light touch that belies the profound truths that surface, thus enhancing their dramatic impact. The language is rich, natural and powerful. The action plays out in a seamless flow, perfectly paced to generate laughter and pack a great wallop when needed.

Black Faggot needs to be seen around the whole country, not least in high schools. Sure it’s ‘X-Rated’, what with its expletives, explicit terminology and mimed sex scenes, but none of that will be new to teenagers. The audience that packs out the Hannah Playhouse this opening night laughs their proverbial heads off with shock and delight at the ‘comedy of insight’. Why should that be denied to those who stand to benefit most from the essential truths Black Faggot reveals?

One gripe: where were the programmes? Apart from making it hard on critics (there were no creative, cast or crew credits in the media release either) the audience at large wants to know who created and who is performing in the show. And those involved are entitled to be credited. 

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It is not surprising that Multinesia’s production Black Faggot by Victor Rodger is the late-night show at the Hannah Playhouse.   

This high energy, outrageously in your face and no- holds-barred show is a series of monologues and duologues canvassing all aspects of gay life.   

Much of it could and does apply to any section of New Zealand society, not just island boys, but the humour that the two Samoan actors, Iaheto Ah Hi and Taofia Pelesasa, infuse into the pieces somehow gives the show a special quality. [More]

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Black Faggot is a riotously funny two-hander that blitzed the Auckland Fringe. I’m not exactly au fait with the gay scene in New Zealand – save that they’ve adopted marriage equality while we continue to dither – but you don’t need to be to appreciate the play, which launches the turbo-charged hilarity of superior sketch comedy into a poignant and humane plea for tolerance.

The pleasures and pains of being gay and from a Maori or Pacific Islander background take centre stage through outlandish caricature and finely tuned performance. [More]  

Reviewer rating: 4 out of 5 stars

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With such a provocative title (faggot sits at number 9 on the Broadcasting Standards Authority’s list of 31 words ‘Not To Swear’), one would be forgiven if they were to presume that Victor Rodger’s Black Faggot was going to be an excessive bombardment of racial and homophobic rants from both sides of the social spectrum. However, as a straight white male, this, admittedly, semi-prejudiced preconception was pleasantly contradicted with what was an incredibly accessible show. Although Rodger’s script doesn’t necessarily bring any new arguments to the case against said issues, it compacts them into a specific set of cultural groups and focuses on their dealings with them. [More] 

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I have not laughed so hard in a long time. Victor Rodger’s Black Faggot explores some racier sides of the gay community with explicit language and a few topics that are unlikely to appear on TV. Nevertheless, a standing ovation from the crowd, accompanied by lots of laughter, hoorays and a few CHAHOOs, was the response of an appreciative opening night audience.

Inspired by Toa Fraser’s Bare, Black Faggot interweaves the monologues of a handful of characters, from the island mama who has to tell her church that her son is gay, to the best mate who thinks it is only fair that he should be allowed to share details from his one night stand on the weekend.

Iaheto Ah Hi and Beulah Koale bring an incredible energy to the stage as they move seamlessly between each character and their story. There is great joy when you recognize a character who appeared earlier on in the show and an excited anticipation as you wonder what intimate detail will they share next. 

What is different about this show is not the gay pride message – the characters aren’t there for pity or to make you become a gay pride activist – but that they are simply real, every-day sorts of guys with relationship problems like any other. From the start you know you are allowed to laugh and that you aren’t going to be bombarded with hard done-by, oppressed characters.

This makes it so much more touching when you see a glimpse of some of the darker issues; particularly Beulah Koale’s rendition of Christian, a young Samoan boy who prays to God to make him straight throughout the play. Although these sorts of moments are short and fleeting, they break your heart.

Directed by Roy Ward, the play has fantastic immediacy that complements the intimacy of the theatre; and the use of no set, props or extravagant costumes, gives the show a very raw feel that allows you to truly engage in each character’s story and go on their journey with them.

If you can handle the explicit language and content, it is definitely a must and tickets are selling out fast. 

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