As I enter the Studio Theatre at Gasworks, I am taken in by a solemn scene. A lonesome soul named Steve, wearing a grey jumper and black shorts. Sitting on a plastic beach chair, he is lifting hand weights, doing his daily exercise. He is in an outside area, in between two doors of flats, labelled 32 on the left and 33 on the right. To the right and left of the flat doors? Are miscellaneous shelves and empty pots. Framed by colourful crates. Empty surfaces seeking company. Like potted plants, real or fake. Op shop knick-knacks. Just so one can create a soothing, outdoor living space for themselves.
Or something resembling security. Stability. Consistency …
A safe home environment.
I quickly learn that I am witnessing the lives of those living in emergency government housing. I also learn that nearby, lie the Melbourne docks. From which I gather, the coloured crates may come from. For they are used as makeshift tables here, for neighbours to gather and mingle. To share cups of coffee and biscuits. To connect. To feel wanted, loved and cared for.
At least for a while.
Until it’s time to get back on their feet, and continue on their journeys.
So it is here where we meet three tenants in this said housing block.
Steve, 36, believably-played by Nick Steain, is a gruff Queenslander from Townsville, who has just gotten out of jail four months prior. He longs to head back up to his old FIFO mining job in the sunny north – so he can continue to fly in and out – free from being tied down to any kind of stable existence.
Then we meet Belle, Steve’s missus, a gripping performance by Natasha Broadstock, a mature woman he has been seeing for the last four months since his arrival. Belle has been living in public housing for six years, works at an op shop and knows the etiquette of living in public housing. She is a survivor with a huge heart. She also has had it rough, having wasted many years looking for love, but with abusive men. But her resolve remains hopeful and strong. Hence, she always looks ‘on the bright side’. She makes a great effort to connect and be kind and nurturing to new neighbours who call this place home. Yet, she can be very vulnerable, fearing being abandoned once again.
And finally, there is Jon, a teenage runaway, a convincing and emotionally- giving performance by Tom Purcell, who loves his black ‘Cash’ jumper and lives next door to Steve in Flat 32. We learn that Jon’s parents weren’t stable caregivers, so he truly craves a stable home, where he can feel heard, understood, loved and cared for. Deep down, he longs to connect and feel peace and love from a caregiver. Since this is what he deeply lacked growing up.
The relationship of this trio formulates its own kind of system, thanks to the brilliant direction of Carl Whiteside. Belle urges Steve to connect with newcomer Jon, and helps him feel at home by bringing him plants and garden knick-knacks from the op shop. Within a few weeks, Steve and Jon do connect, and Steve builds a joint laundry line that he and Jon can both share together. Jon gives Steve some of Belle’s plants for him to put in his garden too.
Music works well to help drive the action and transitions of scenes. There is ominous music where there is tension; happy upbeat music when there is harmony; and playful, pink panther-like music when Jon speaks back home late at night from drinking with his mates.
Belle, however, learns she is pregnant. This causes a rift between her and Steve, and he tells her that he had been in jail for the last two years. That he longs to be a FIFO again up north, and has never thought of having kids. Feeling that he is not in the same page as her, she grows desperate to pin him down. She doesn’t want to hear the word ‘no’ from him. He relents and agrees to stay and accept a job instead as a mechanic at the docks.
What’s interesting is the harmony that is forming between this trio. Steve and Belle are becoming the caretakers of Jon, and planning the arrival of their baby. Jon is feeling cared for. He is putting his life back together by working in a warehouse and making friends. Their relationships are building. Things are looking up. Belle is stopping work. Steve has bought a new pram, and promises to finish his mechanics course.
That is, until a letter arrives: that they must vacate the premises in two weeks and relocate elsewhere, as their emergency housing estate will soon be demolished.
Conflicts arise. The fear of instability once again on all fronts. The stress of being homeless. Of lacking employment. As such, these three are forced to go in different directions, just in order to survive.
They are forced to look at themselves, and their true wants and needs, in order to live a future they can be proud of. Even if it means doing it on their own terms.
Even if it means losing the ones they love in the process.
For unlike the steady and stable survival of plants that feature greatly in this work; a safe life for many, is not always guaranteed in this world.
Moreover, this heartwarming production, written by Ros Varley, teaches and educates us about what home and safety can truly mean for us in the modern world.
That home can mean many things to many people. It can be found in human connection. It can be found in self-acceptance. Or, it can be found in knowing our own truth, and loving ourselves because of it.
This is a very important show to see right now, and it has the power to touch the hearts of many. Highly-recommended as part of the Melbourne Fringe.
To book tickets to Home, please visit https://www.melbournefringe.com.au/whats-on/events/home.