The Boat People – The Hayloft Project and Tamarama Rock Surfers

Overview

Benedict Hardie says the only way he could write a play about the dire state of affairs in Australia’s immigration debate was to write a comedy. He’s dubbed The Boat People a black comedy, and it does have the structural elements of a farce. But at its core The Boat People is a poetic elegy for those whose lives have been destroyed by inhumane policies.

Christian refugees from Iraq, Sarah and Karl Abboud (Susie Youssef and William Erimya) arrived in Australia as teenagers and met at Villawood Detention Centre. As adults they build a small fortune from a restaurant chain, Safina, whose point of difference in the dining landscape is the commodification of their identity as refugees, with offerings such as the 'Manus Meal' or the 'Chop Morrison' — it’s "true blue reffo tucker".

The Boat People opens with Verity Hampson’s lighting gradually revealing a shimmering mound of silver rock (or perhaps the underside of a small boat), the light falling in dappled patches as if through water — a dream state reference to the pasts of the now wealthy and secure Abbouds. Michael Hankin’s set is an enclosure of vertical windows, which serves both as the impressive floor to ceiling glass of the successful couple’s waterfront home and as a reminder of the pair’s previous lives in detention.

Hardie’s comedy hinges on the Abbouds using their minority status to make money from white middle class guilt, while compounding stereotypes in the process. Those boarding Sarah's harbour tours in repurposed people smuggling boats can enjoy the postcard-worthy view knowing Australia has given refugees a 'fair go' if the Abbouds have succeeded. Bleeding-heart journalist, Melanie (Emily Rose Brennan), embodies the middle class guilt in the play — starting out by seeking the truth, then ultimately committing to selling a refugee success story at any cost (ostensibly for the good of all asylum seekers).

Youssef and Brennan drive the show with masterful focus, allowing Erimya and Luke Joseph Ryan (as the halfwit personal trainer-turned-bodyguard, Shane) to dance around the edges of the action. Ryan successfully channels Will Arnett with his slapstick bravura. Erimya’s off kilter comedic timing can take a bit of getting used to, but his awkwardness begins to make more sense as it's revealed that Karl is a trauma victim and not just a bumbling fool. Youssef’s closing monologue about a childhood in detention is chilling and Hardie’s writing here is plain and to the point — the farce is stripped back and we’re left with the facts at hand.

Hardie isn’t using comedy in The Boat People as a device to trick the audience into thinking about darker truths; he’s deploying humour as a completely appropriate response to a political reality we all wish was a bad joke.