Hir

With gender and sexuality at the forefront of the mainstream consciousness now more than ever, the searing stage comedy Hir could not be more relevant. Written by American playwright Taylor Mac, the cast and crew at Surry Hills' Belvoir St theatre bring the radical and dazzling piece crashing down on the audience. It's certainly, as one character is fond of exclaiming, a "paradigm shift!"

A surprising reveal brings the audience into the living room that will contain the entirety of the play's narrative. Dishonourably discharged Marine Isaac (Michael Whalley) returns to his family home to find things in disarray. The house is a mess, his once fearsome father (Greg Stone) is confused and docile as the result of a stroke, his mother Paige (Helen Thomson) is spouting radical gender theory, and his younger sister Max (Kurt Pimblett) is now his younger brother.

Hir is named for the pronouns that Max now uses; "Ze" instead of "she" or "he," and "hir" instead of "her" or "him." From the beginning, much of Paige's high-minded rhetoric (delivered with brilliant enthusiasm) comes off as an affectionate parody. That is, until some very dark truths about this dysfunctional family come to light, revealing the true nature of the patriarchal upheaval that's taken place since Isaac left.

It is actually the character of Arnold, despite his lines being only a fraction of those of his loquacious family, on which the play hinges. He is emasculated, but he is complacent. He is mistreated, and spoken ill of right to his face, and the audience is pulled between loathing him and feeling sorry for him. Along with Isaac he represents the shadow of toxic masculinity, but throughout the play the pair are revealed to be far more malleable than they may seem at first.

Hir is thematically intense, but the writing is perfectly paced and the cast at Belvoir are terrific. Thomson's turn as Paige is jaw-dropping; It's hard to take your eyes off her and she delivers some of the play's funniest lines with the phrasing and spin that only a mother could deliver. Pimblett's Max is also deeply engrossing, with the young actor drawing out all the confusion and newfound strength of the character flawlessly.

Arguably, some of the more complex themes of the play get lost in the absolute madness of the narrative, but it remains fun and thought-provoking throughout. The way in which a shadow puppet show soundtracked by Sylvester's shape-shifting disco classic "You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)" melts into the play's devastating finale is proof of Mac's original and ambitious authorial voice.

As always, the stage at Belvoir is dressed is a way that it completely transportive. What looks like a fully functional (albeit cluttered) kitchen complete with sink, cooktop and fridge gives the kind of authenticity that is rare to come across in the theatre. Set and Costume Designer Michael Hankin, whose work was similarly great on a recent production of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf , has done an amazing job at giving the kind of tactility and ambience that makes the play really sing.

This is certainly not a carefree night spent at the theatre, and may be slightly too academic to unpack over its relatively short hundred-minute runtime, but Hir should be applauded for pushing at boundaries in radical ways that many other works of art wouldn't dare to touch. You'll be thinking about Hir for days after the lights go down, but don't expect to arrive at any concrete answers. 

Hir is on at Belvoir St. Theatre, Surry Hills until Sunday September 10th. Production photos by Brett Boardman.