Verbatim theatre—theatre built on a script derived directly from the words of interviewees—has the potential to be really messed up. Productions can possess an ungrounded authority of authenticity in the representation of its characters that results from illusion of the text being the unmediated, direct self-representation of the people these characters are based off. This perceived authenticity in “speaking for” these people means that verbatim theatre holds a great responsibility to be honest, transparent and respectful. This is especially so when representing people belonging to a minority group who are constantly being spoken for and over, and generally lack access to freedom of self-representation, not to mention expression.

So it is so goshdarn sweet when a production takes on this responsibility with vigour and maintains the honour and self-integrity of its characters. Oriel Entertainment Group’s current production of I Am My Own Wife achieves this and more. It is an earnest, undogmatic meditation of the importance of truth, representation and storytelling to how we construct and experience our lives and the lives of others.

The play is built on the conversations between playwright Doug Wright and Charlotte von Mahlsdorf, a 65-year-old German transgender woman who admirably survived both the Nazi and Communist regimes. It saw its premiere in 2003 in Chicago at the hands of Wright and Moises Kauffman (of Laramie Project fame), and comes to us now through director Shaun Rennie. Yet,  as we can expect from production with Kauffman’s name somewhere in the air, the play isn’t the story of Charlotte, it is about her story, and the different ways it has touched and affected people across the world. I won’t talk about the story itself in this review though, as I don’t want to spoil any of its surprises.

I Am My Own Wife is a one-person play, which may spell disaster for many, but actor Ben Gerrard (Open Slather, Molly) pulls through and delivers a phenomenal performance: strong, delicate and kind in his portrayals of over 30 characters. His mastery of the difficult form absolutely makes the play. Gerrard switches between characters effortlessly; creating characters bold and idiosyncratic enough to be immediately recognisable, but never too much so as to be mere caricatures. While holding this delicately-held balance, Gerrard manages to provide some small moments of humour and brevity through the characterisations themselves—a really nice though difficult touch to add.

Gerrard impressively uses no effects, costumes or props to make his transitions. He relies solely on the power of his acting, and pulls this off well. Each character feels constantly present in the play and the flow of dialogue is never interrupted. But perhaps more importantly, shirking excessive costuming also enables the production to avoid the prescriptiveness in the representations of the characters that verbatim theatre is particularly vulnerable to. As such, the meditations on representation and self-representation contained in the play are explored performatively as well as through dialogue. The play respects the integrity of each characters’ own-self-representation whilst forcing the audience to encounter and consider the fluidity and constructed-ness of representation overall. This is powerful and important, for understanding and accepting such fluidity and construction is pivotal to understanding the gender spectrum for what it is, and accepting those who identify with a nonconventional place on it.

The set design also thoughtfully engages with this looseness of representation, and is strikingly beautiful in its simplicity. There are few and simple set items, Gerrard’s dynamic and purposeful movement filling the scene amply, and the props that are used are pleasantly abstracted from the objects they claimed to represent. These props aren’t imbued with excessive symbolism and so avoid both drawing attention away from the stories being told, and projecting a dogmatic message about the items’ significance or meaning which would go against the production’s playful exploration of ideas of representation.

In sum, I Am My Own Wife is a stunning production that intelligently aligns the form of performance with the themes of the script. Verbatim theatre is an interesting and fraught form, one that foregrounds the delicate issues of authentic voice and making representations of others - but Oriel Group’s production navigated the form thoughtfully and tastefully, bringing us a sensitive portrait of an amazing woman, and a complex affirmation of the importance of freedom to self-representation that speaks to a deeper message of true pride.

Grippingly beautiful, a must see.

I Am My Own Wife played as part of Melt 2017. 

 Olivia Scott