Self-Esteem by Brendan Cowell

Self-Esteem is a black, political comedy by Brendan Cowell and presents a bleak criticism of our Australian community and identity. There’s a strong religious current as Cowell confronts American indoctrination.

As you enter the Wharf2Loud theatre, you are collectively confronted by the vast, pristine space the stage takes up and the starkness of the suburban home floor plan surrounded by a white picket fence. This initial uncomfortable feeling, for anyone who grew up in the suburbs, is reinforced in the first ten minutes of the play: the dad, Rob, ignores the mum, Pam; the brother, Rick, resents the sister, Lucy, who is articulate, political and restless; and the grandmother, Ethel, who is in advanced stages of dementia, attempts to take a dump on the lounge-room floor.

These uncomfortable feelings are only strengthened when Chad arrives, but in another way, completely. Neatly dressed in a white tracksuit embossed with the black insignia of Chad, he launches into the suburban Australian home with his loud and strong American accent. Chad is a generic, good-looking, twenty-something, soon-to-be-part-of-every-Australian-home brainwasher, who comes with his own instruction kit restricting certain questions like, “how do you feel, Chad? What do you want for yourself, Chad?” As the play progresses he starts to break down and realises his own short-comings as these types of questions inevitably arise.

Toby Schmitz is brilliant in this role. His energy bursts well beyond the suburban bore, and his excessive smile and cheer makes you grate your teeth, ‘but in a good way.’ His subtle ticks and smooth transition between his multi-faceted manipulation techniques make you aware that things are going to go horribly wrong for him (and everyone else) and that you are going to enjoy seeing him come apart.

Initially, Chad is rejected by most of the family who are keen to stick with the status quo. Pam prepares meals for Chad, as is her motherly duty. He tantalises her and wins her over with his insincere compliments, and the family’s conversion to the Chad way of life begins: strict exercise regimes in leg-warmers; making money any way you can; being creative even if it means exploiting others. Chad manipulates his way into the hearts of each of them as is his duty dictated by the greater Chad.

The real joy is in watching each component of the family break down with too many Chad pills, a rat plague and gay porn.

Tim Richards creates a bold and risky Rick. His metamorphosis from lazy, masturbating brat to inspired, home-porn creator is hilarious.

Heather Mitchell’s Pam is sympathetic and pathetic, and her energetic physical movement makes her amphetamine addiction deliciously farcical.

Alice Babidge’s set design is simple and functional and works in well with Gavin Robins movement instruction to assist the unified feeling of the family home.

In essence, Cowell is characterising the Australian lack the self-esteem and our inability to effectively create a national identity. Americans, on the other hand, with their confidence whether genuine or not, can easily infiltrate any community, often resulting in it breaking down. Self-Esteem, in its own black comedy, American-bashing way it is a nationalistic play.

It is an interesting comment on Australian identity however simplistically it has been presented here. It’s a subject not often discussed so overtly, yet one that all the arts are implicitly trying to achieve by their existence. What does it mean to be Australian? What do we have to be proud of? Are we a racist nation? Cowell delicately includes this last precarious question, which ironically reflects our own oppressive history. I think the malaise of Self-Esteem successfully remains with its audience members long after the performance has finished.