Sometimes I Say Your Name Out Loud | Moment of Inertia & Collectivist

As I entered the space that ‘Sometimes I Say Your Name Out Loud’ inhabited, I noticed the warm aura immediately and felt drawn to take a seat in the front row, which is unusual for me. The set and lighting felt whimsical and almost childlike, with a paper lantern in the shape of a boat hanging above the stage. People were grabbing drinks, and the lull of lowered whispers as others arrived just added to the dreamy atmosphere.

The show began with a bang, or at least a loud commotion as two of the show’s three characters entered the room. Wearing a smile so eager I could see it in my peripherals, I noticed Ronnie first. Winning hearts all over the room, she seemed to be having quite a bit of difficulty making her way onto the stage, under the direction of her boss Mort, who clearly delights in barking orders and raising the bar (or in this case the sickle scythe). However, it was not until Mort’s boss, the Priestess arrived revealing the grander power structure at play, that I really felt like I understood Mort’s motivations. The Priestess commands the attention of the entire room with nothing more than a headpiece, her words, and a fierce grace, and at that point it was obvious, at least to me, that we had entered another realm entirely.

The stories of the souls who are seminal to this work, unravelled from here through expert storytelling, and the natural clowning and comedic ability of all three assured this show was an easy ride, despite the weight of the deeper meaning behind it all. For example, when the three characters sat down in order of least to most powerful, to drink tea with three vastly different sized teapots, you could actually hear the some of the audience members relating.

Clever and sparing use of simple theatrical artifice in this piece, helps the audience know where they are at all times too. Things like pieces of paper falling to mark a new chapter, different coloured filters to indicate a metaphorical turning of the page, and ritualistic dances to signify a pitchfork in the road. Sometimes in their solo moments, I felt like I was walking right beside the character, whether it be on eggshells, broken dreams, or whatever ground they must traverse.

This was never truer than when Phoebe Manning’s Ronnie hit the stage hard with her first solo telling, sharing a story about two best friends, Reggie and Ronnie, through a metaphorical acro-balance piece (accompanied by Madeleine Grant) that at times became ever so preciously literal. I must admit though, it was quite an emotional experience and I thought for some reason I might be alone in feeling that… but when I turned my head to the side to wipe away a tear, I saw another audience member near me doing the same thing quietly in the dark. Just when I thought it was going to be all tears though, the hilarious impromptu sing-alongs with audience participation were always there to save the day.

Then there were the sacred offerings of Madeline Grant’s Mort. I have never seen someone wield a garden implement with such savage beauty and dance with death quite so absurdly. Mort also stole whatever limelight was left in the realm when she took to the air in a piece so death defying, it was life affirming. In all seriousness though, it is right up there with some my favourite aerial performances. One of the biggest magic tricks of the night was in making that performance seem so accidental. And ultimately, it is Mort’s few words, about really making sure we live our life, that still haunt me as I write this review.

Nadia Jade’s Priestess was all-consuming. I could never have imagined how much I would enjoy watching someone just finishing the crumbs of a biscuit. Her spoken word was like a caress that at the same time gripped me tighter with every breath. Her solo moments encompassed the enchanting use of simple props like a scarf, whilst she took us through a movement piece so raw, I almost felt like I was doing it with her. Associating a movement with a person’s name, in a specific order. Although repetitive and hard to watch, it also felt cathartic and necessary… an exorcism of sorts.

I might have seen these three producers grow up in the Brisbane arts scene over the last decade or more, but any bias I write with now is well earned on their part. This was proven tonight by the strong audience reaction and high level of participation alone. The three deftly managed to bring the audience to a crescendo, where we sang the final song like a choir that was ever so slightly rusty; and I even noticed a little collective sigh at the end. This was followed by gut busting laughter that was still going long after they started to get their main prop off stage… by the time the three made it back for their final bow, the audience was cheering loudly.

I’ve never experienced a show quite like this, where I found myself crying and smiling at the same time. It was somewhat like a funeral or wake, and certainly a celebration of life itself. If you have ever wondered what Purgatory is like, this might be the show for you. If you are scared of dying, or even more so… if you ever wonder if people will even think about you after you are gone, this is definitely the show for you! The output produced by the fusion of these three beautiful minds was kooky, poignant, and bloody funny. I’ve never seen anything like it before, and I don’t think I will again. It was also my first experience of a production by Moment of Inertia, and if this was anything to go by, they are a company seriously worth watching.