Olympic diver Matthew Mitcham captured the public imagination when he won gold at the 2008 games in Beijing, but his autobiography Twists and Turns surprised many as he revealed his long struggle with depression, his challenging childhood and his addiction to crystal meth.
Now he has turned that frank autobiography into an all-singing, all-ukulele-playing cabaret. After a year of performances and on the eve of a special Mardi Gras run, Mitcham discusses the difficulties of reading reviews, continuing to quieten his inner perfectionist and the unexpected rewards of performing Lorde.
Did you enjoy doing Twists and Turns as part of the Perth fringe?
Perth was great – it was special for us to go back to Fringe World because that’s where we premiered it. The show is a year old and it’s grown so much in that time. My learning curve as a performance artist has been extremely steep: going from no experience whatsoever to doing this show which we must have performed about 40 times by now. I get more comfortable on stage and with the audience all the time – and more playful.
What originally made you turn your autobiography into cabaret?
Well I’m a bit of an attention whore! No, I’m a massive advocate of people sharing their stories because you never know who might relate to it, which parts they might relate to and and how much sharing your story might make a difference to someone else. I had such a great reaction from the book that I wasn’t concerned about sharing the harder stuff with people. It wasn’t going to be news to anyone.
As far as cabaret goes, I was asked by the Melbourne cabaret festival to MC and perform a couple of numbers at their closing gala in 2013. The producers must have been a bit impressed as they asked if I had thought about turning my autobiography into a cabaret show. I thought: “If you are going to do all the work for me, then why not?”
It didn’t end up working out that way, but they did put me in contact with Spanky, who wrote the show, and Nigel Turner-Carroll, who directed. We had this great little team that produced something that is a lot better than everyone expects. I get that feedback a lot: “Oh, it was so much better than I expected.”
How does someone who battles their inner perfectionist jump in with no experience? How do you quieten that voice of doubt?
Good question. I guess it’s just part of my recovery, trying to deal with that perfectionism. There is no better way to test yourself and your ability to be gentler on yourself than to put yourself right in the firing line on stage, and subject yourself to criticism. The feedback that I get from audiences is always amazing. The only challenge I ever get is reading reviews.
Even though they are all four star reviews (there have been a couple of five), I still do find it hard sometimes to read the critiques and negative comments. When I really take it to heart, I know I need to look at why. It sounds really wanky and esoteric but it’s all learning experiences for me on my journey to becoming a happier, healthier person.
Which is more brutal: the world of sport or the world of theatre?
Theatre I think. With sport, there’s a judging panel. Maybe it’s because I have more experience and I’m more established in sport and I don’t mind the judging because I feel like it’s fair. But when it comes to reviews, it’s one person’s opinion. If it was a whole panel, I would [think]: okay, everyone thinks the same thing so it must need work.
When I get different critiques all the time, I don’t know what to take with a grain of salt or what to take on board as solid constructive feedback. That’s the challenge to me: to realise that sometimes it’s just an opinion and maybe I do need to let it go and realise you’re not going to make everybody happy.
What does performing give you that sport doesn’t?
It’s a creative endeavour, which sport isn’t. Even though diving is a very artistic sport and it’s a performance, there is no room to wiggle or express myself in different creative ways. It’s your ability to replicate that one thing to the best of your ability, as consistently as possible.
With performing on stage, you have the freedom to express one thing, which is my story, but in as many different ways as I want to. I loved that whole creative process of putting the show together and coming up with new ideas, and we continue to enjoy that by road testing new jokes all the time.
What does success look like these days?
Well, I could give you some really wanky, wholesome answer [but] realistically success in theatres is ticket sales. You can only do something for so long just for the love of it.But the feedback that I get after the shows, when I do signings, is the most rewarding part of this whole process for me.
One of the reasons why I’m such an advocate of people sharing their story is that it gives permission for other people to respond. Sometimes I am the first person with whom a person has shared what’s going on for them, and that’s a truly humbling and a very honouring moment for me.
Will you do more theatre and cabaret?
I would love to keep entertaining people, whether it’s TV or stage or radio. That’s where I would love my career to be, so I’ll never say never. I am still very, very green to this whole industry and I’ve still got a lot more learning to do but certainly entertainment is where it’s going to be for me.
And are you still training?
Yes, I’m still diving. Rio 2016 – that’s what I’m training for
Twists and Turns is part of this year’s Mardi Gras festival. What does Mardi Gras means to Sydney and the wider community?
For the gay community, it’s a wonderful opportunity to celebrate our culture and our identity. In other places around the world, people in our community don’t get the chance to celebrate or be proud of their sexual identity – in fact they are shamed for it. So it’s an extremely important cultural celebration and an invitation for the wider community to celebrate with us and show their support for LGBTIQ people. It’s inclusion, rather than separation or segregation.
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Twists and Turns is at Seymour Centre, Sydney from 26 to 28 February
