A Child’s Eye View: “POV” Masterfully Blends Documentary and Theatre
In a truly innovative theatrical experience, “POV” blurs the lines between documentary filmmaking and live performance, offering audiences a unique and profoundly moving exploration of family dynamics. At its core, the play is presented as a documentary being filmed in real-time by an 11-year-old girl. However, the twist that elevates “POV” beyond a simple staged conceit is that her parents are portrayed by a different pair of actors each night. These adult performers are thrust into the spotlight with no prior knowledge of the script, forcing them to react spontaneously to each unfolding revelation and line of dialogue.
This dynamic creates an electrifying unpredictability, but the true power lies with the young actor playing the documentarian. Unlike the character she embodies, the child performer holds all the directorial authority. She guides the adult actors, dictating their movements, their positions on stage, and even doling out script pages incrementally, sometimes with specific instructions on delivery. This inversion of control adds a fascinating layer of complexity to the narrative.
Stand-ins and Gradual Revelations
During a recent performance at the Perth Festival, 12-year-old Sydney-based performer Yuna Ahn (who alternates in the role with Grace Tione) stepped into the shoes of Bub, the precocious 11-year-old filmmaker. Bub’s documentary centres on her mother, Penny, a ceramic artist perpetually exhausted by the demands of an upcoming exhibition. Penny’s husband, Michael, a microbiologist with a penchant for Icelandic post-rock and painting Warhammer figurines, also features in Bub’s film.
The premise of Bub’s documentary is simple: she’s capturing her mother’s life as Penny prepares for her exhibition. However, Penny is proving to be an elusive subject, actively avoiding interviews, much to Bub’s frustration. Michael, her father, gently advises Bub that it’s “not a good time to be filming mum and me,” hinting at underlying tensions.
Bub, with the earnestness of a budding documentarian, educates the audience on the fundamental elements of her craft. She explains the importance of interviews, observational footage, the use of B-roll for visual embellishment, and the necessity of reenactments when original footage is unavailable. It is through these explanations that the audience gradually understands why Bub has enlisted two unrehearsed local actors to portray her parents in the unfolding live performance.
Early in the show, a Polaroid photograph, developing slowly before Bub’s camera, is held up for the audience to see. As the image of actors Chris Isaacs and Haydon Wilson (who played Penny and Michael on this particular night) gradually clarifies, it’s revealed to be part of the opening credits for Bub’s documentary. Every shot captured by Bub’s camera is projected live onto multiple screens throughout the theatre, allowing the story at the heart of “POV” to unfold piece by piece, frame by frame.
The narrative that emerges is, sadly, a familiar one for many Australian families. Statistics reveal that a significant percentage of Australian adults will experience mental illness at some point in their lives. “POV” tackles this sensitive subject with remarkable tenderness, insightful observation, and a touch of humour, all filtered through the innocent, yet perceptive, lens of an 11-year-old. The performance oscillates between moments of lightheartedness, particularly when scenes require multiple takes, and deeply affecting, emotionally resonant passages. The actors’ voices crack with emotion, and quiet sobs can be heard rippling through the audience as the narrative deepens.
Child Safety and Unforeseen Inspirations
The presence of a child actor, Yuna Ahn, aged just 12, necessitates strict adherence to rigorous production guidelines. Early in the performance, the audience is given a glimpse into these protocols when Isaacs reads aloud from the “Child Safety in Performance” manual. This document outlines crucial regulations concerning working hours for young performers, mandatory breaks, and the types of content they can and cannot be exposed to.
These guidelines are swiftly put into practice. Yuna’s chaperone, positioned stage-right, asks her to put on headphones, shielding Bub from overhearing a heated, expletive-laden argument between her on-stage parents. Later, a mandated six-minute break is observed, during which biscuits are distributed to the audience. The audience is also encouraged to engage with their devices, researching and sharing quotes from the renowned German filmmaker and documentary icon, Werner Herzog. Bub, it is revealed, is a fervent admirer of Herzog and has corresponded with him, receiving replies.
Another letter, partially read aloud, is from Wilson. It details how he should prepare for his role in “POV,” specifically instructing him to adopt a Werner Herzog accent, though the reason remains undisclosed. His performance of the accent injects much-needed levity into the production, particularly as the mood darkens in the latter half. Isaacs also receives a similar preparatory letter, and an extract is read aloud. The subsequent scene is pivotal to the play, and Isaacs delivers a powerful performance, navigating a challenging follow-up question with touching honesty and clarity, despite clearly being caught off guard.
The Camera as Witness, Theatre as Memory
“POV” is a testament to the creative prowess of the re:group performance collective, whose members met during their studies at the University of Wollongong. The production masterfully integrates film and television techniques into a live stage setting.
The act of wielding the camera grants the actor playing Bub a tangible sense of agency. The images captured by her lens, displayed across the multiple screens, vividly illuminate the fractured lives of the play’s central characters for the audience. Mark Rogers’ script skillfully subverts audience expectations, initially leading them to believe they are witnessing a straightforward domestic tragedy, only to gently guide them into far more complex and darker emotional territory. Solomon Thomas’ direction expertly balances the play’s diverse emotional tones.
The production design of “POV” is equally noteworthy. It is minimalist yet seamlessly woven into the fabric of the narrative. The tracks that guide Bub’s high-quality camera also ingeniously transform into tracks for two of the play’s most dramatic scenes. In another poignant moment, a slowly inflating air mattress initially elicits laughter, but as the scene progresses, the humour sours. The mattress’s gradual inflation begins to symbolise the numbing effect of depression, making one oblivious to significant changes in the world.
Theatre possesses the unique ability to both mirror and amplify real life. In skilled hands, it can even transcend reality to feel more authentic. Towards the conclusion of “POV,” after the central truth of its story has been revealed and the humour largely recedes, the production achieves this heightened state. This is partly accomplished by the repetition of a key scene, enacted multiple times with subtle variations, until Bub, through her camera, captures the precise emotional nuance she requires.
This technique powerfully evokes the way individuals often re-examine significant moments from their past, replaying them endlessly in their minds, wishing they could have acted or spoken differently to alter the outcome. This poignant exploration of memory and regret stands as a shining moment of brilliance within an already accomplished and deeply impactful production.
“POV” graced the stage at the Subiaco Arts Centre in Subiaco/Wandaraguttagurrup from 10 to 15 February and is scheduled to tour to the Space Theatre for the Adelaide Festival from 4 to 8 March.
