Under a full moon and the branches of a lemon tree, two boys meet: Ty (Joseph Althouse) from the river mob and Neddy (Danny Howard) from the mountain mob. They’ve been sent by their respective communities to exchange information about the recently arrived whitefellas and they flex with the bravado of boys on the cusp of manhood, cos-playing adults. They’ve invented elaborate code names and protocols for conducting this Serious Business but quickly devolve into being boys: competitive, curious, playful. Excessively interested in poo and dicks and cussing, and feats of bravery.
Neddy and Ty are interested in each other, too: each seems to be everything the other is not. Ty is sensitive, sharp, poetic; he’s been chosen by his mob as a knowledge holder and his job is to listen and learn. Neddy is boisterous and athletic with great arms; he’ll be a hunter and maybe a warrior. Slipping easily into these characters and dressed in contemporary clothing, Althouse and Howard feel instantly familiar; we’ve all known or been a Neddy or a Ty.
Such is the irresistibly charming meet cute that opens Whitefella Yella Tree, Dylan Van Den Berg’s award-winning play, re-mounted at Sydney Theatre Company after an acclaimed premiere season at Griffin’s tiny Stables Theatre in 2022.
Van Den Berg’s premise is simple but powerful. We meet these two boys on the cusp of three massive changes – adulthood, first love and the cataclysm of colonisation – and their journey symbolises larger historical forces. As Neddy and Ty return to the same tree under the same full moon over several years, we see them grow and their relationship blossom but we also see the corruptive influence of colonisation as invaders encroach inexorably on the boys’ country, communities and culture – and eventually their relationship.
The boys’ different responses to this crisis are an opportunity to reflect on larger movements, too. When Neddy’s sister is kidnapped by the foreigners, the wannabe warrior leaps into action, insinuating himself into a group of whitefellas in order to gain their trust and rescue her. Ty, steeped in the teachings of his elders, is far more circumspect; he studies the invaders from a distance and is sceptical about Neddy’s capacity to outplay them. Neddy’s optimism proves tragically unfounded and his naivety has devastating consequences.
But, as we’re frequently reminded, these are boys – thrust into adult roles before their time and rising to the challenge the best they can. Ty’s experience feels particularly poignant as he struggles to learn the vast knowledge and stories of his community in a matter of mere years and to embody the kind of wisdom that takes a lifetime to develop.
Designer Mason Browne teases out the play’s symbolism: the lemon tree – this foreign plant that has taken root – is represented by an amputated trunk and gnarled root system suspended above the centre of the stage. It hangs over everything and, even though it can’t literally grow, the shifting lighting design (by Kelsey Lee and Katie Sfetkidis) casts those tangled roots as an increasingly ominous presence. Intermittent blackouts between scenes are set to a rumbling, cataclysmic sound design (Steve Toulmin) as if the very fabric of country were being torn. Over the course of the show, the plywood-lined and moss-tipped set, initially a site of safe play, transitions into something more charged and erotic, then a site of danger and finally a zone of full-blown horror.
Co-directors Amy Sole and Declan Greene have devised an elegant production that perfectly holds Van Den Berg’s play, allowing it to sing and to resonate. This is a gorgeous, smart piece of writing – disarmingly tender and funny early on, sucking us into the world of these boys and their puppy love and hooking us into their journeys. When the hard knocks inevitably come, they land on us like body blows.
But Whitefella Yella Tree is not only a tragedy and part of the play’s brilliance is the way it weaves stories and storytelling throughout, showing us the different, powerful ways they can be used – weapons, wisdom, balms – and leaving us with a hopeful reminder that we have the ability to shape these narratives.
Whitefella Yella Tree is on at Sydney Theatre Company’s Wharf 1 Theatre until 18 October and tours to La Boite in Brisbane then University of Melbourne’s Union theatre
