"I just think, what the fuck, it's better than some shit that says nothing at all."
At no other time in the history of human civilisation has it been so easy to control what people think of us. We can track our popularity with pin sharp accuracy, conveniently quantified by the number of retweets or double taps we've racked up. We can curate the way we're perceived via cautiously crafted social media profiles. This obsessive self-consciousness doesn't just ring-fence our personal image; it extends to our national identity too. Racism, discrimination, xenophobia and sexism are far more prevalent in Australia than many people would care to admit, and like a carefully filtered Instagram selfie, these unflattering blemishes on the face of Australian society are often airbrushed out of the picture.
Playwright Patricia Cornelius wants to tell it like it is, warts and all. She has made railing against this blinkered conformity the trademark of her bullshit-free oeuvre for more than 30 years. It may not be pretty, it may not be popular, but as her ardent, irreverent plays reveal, taking a long, hard, uncompromising look at the truth of contemporary Australia is something she feels fiercely passionate about. "I want us to be critical of ourselves and the blatant contradictions of this country," she insists. "We think we're so generous but we're greedy. We think we're multicultural but we're so white. There's a huge amount of heat in these ideas, so it is absolutely vital to be honest about the way they're examined."
"We think we're so generous but we're greedy. We think we're multicultural but we're so white."
The Melbourne-based firebrand's unflinching interrogation of Australia's often grimy reality has earned her a reputation as the nation's most outspoken theatre maker, so it's little wonder she is among the writers tapped for the Arts Centre Melbourne's Play For Australia project. Over three days, some of Australia's most esteemed playwrights - Cornelius is joined by Candy Bowers, John Romeril and Ross Mueller - as well as a number of up-and-comers, will present a series of ultra-lean 600-word plays exploring the rather nebulous topic of national identity.
These micro-plays will be minimally staged, with actors reading from the scripts in hand. All the bells and whistles of a fully realised production - and the associated price tags - are stripped away, leaving nothing but the writing in the spotlight.
Putting substance over style bucks the trends of many of the major theatre companies, Cornelius says. "There's an incredible gutlessness in Australian theatre, which never quite makes sense to me," she explains. "Despite what many theatre programs might suggest, there is a hunger for stories that unpick these types of difficult concepts. There's a hunger for us to take a look at ourselves truthfully. It's a very tired notion, the idea that we cringe at the first whiff of something challenging, but this in itself should be challenged. The major companies should be matching the predictable, indulgent stuff with work that has a bit of courage. They should use their smaller spaces to give more radical theatre-makers the opportunity to create more probing works. And they should reorganise their budgets accordingly; don't give me the shits about not having any money, I can't fucking stand that argument."
Play For Australia is taking on some pretty big ideas, but with only 600 words to work with, these newly penned scenes have to be streamlined in the extreme. "There is some pleasure in being given a task like this," Cornelius shares. "You have to capture an idea with real efficiency. I like the restrictions - it's a bit like being given homework." As a writer who has consistently returned to the topic of Australia's working class, exploring the national identity is familiar territory for Cornelius. However, she isn't content to fall back on lazy tropes. "Honestly, most of the time I have to really dredge it up, it's not like these ideas are all beautifully bubbling there for me to just dip in and pull one out that's already neatly fleshed out. There's lots of images and symbols or situations that get overused, so I'm constantly looking for a way to express who we are in a new and evocative way."
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For her new micro-play, Cornelius has decided to take a creative approach that reaches beyond her usual methodology. "It's only 600 words, which is barely enough to say anything, so I've gone for an image. I've tried to capture a snapshot of a particular situation and I've placed a character within that landscape, so the piece is in some ways rather abstract, which is a bit unusual for me," she explains. "I've tried to find a metaphorical state for it, rather than a didactic one, but to be frank, I don't mind a bit of finger wagging if it offers an interesting way to come at a topic. People often moan, 'oh god, not didactic theatre. No thank you.' And I just think, what the fuck, it's better than some shit that says nothing at all. I know moralist, didactic theatre can be dreadful, but it can also be incredibly refreshing. As long as it's done well, it's bold and dynamic and it's prepared to take a risk."
Play For Australia is at the Arts Centre Melbourne 29 Sep — 1 Oct