[Go Ask Alice, and You Shall Receive]
TW: Brief mentions of gun violence
It is a rare thing for a play to grab my attention before the metaphorical curtain goes up. Four actors sit on pitch black plinths, placed on either side of a makeshift, industrial altar. A priest-like figure stands behind the altar, intersecting beams of light casting a cross on his face. Nobody is praying – their eyes are open and although we feel acknowledged as we enter the space, the audience is equally ignored. The Basement Theatre’s ubiquitous concrete floors are covered in blackboard paint, the plinths blending into the floor, reminiscent of Silo Theatre’s 2016 production of The Book of Everything or Lars von Trier’s divisive film Dogville.
Proudly Asian Theatre has made its mark in recent years as one of Tāmaki Makaurau’s most exciting theatre companies – not only in producing theatre that pushes boundaries and focuses on untold stories, but also in its work engaging with and developing emerging pan-Asian talent. Alice, like their critically-acclaimed 2019 production Pinay, was developed from Proudly Asian Theatre’s monthly playreading series. I have seen both, and Alice is a worthy, if imperfect, successor in what is hopefully a permanent addition to Proudly Asian Theatre’s programme.
The play begins abruptly, with an action and a sound cue. The priest-like figure – the Narrator - draws a circle in chalk in the centre of the stage, a border between those performing and those watching. The cast jump in and out of the circle as they jump in and out of the action of the story, those not involved in the current scene watch the action constantly watching from the outside in. We are told that we will only be shown the important parts of the story – nothing more, nothing less. It is a simple story told in a simple way, with the hook being presented to us from the very start: “This is a story about the first female school shooter in known history.”
What makes Alice a delight is not so much the story – although it is half the fun – but the adventurous and playful way in which it is told. Unusually for a play by Proudly Asian Theatre, none of the characters are specifically Asian as much as they are simply Other (“We’re the only two people in the entire school with any melanin content and we’re in the same year level, so everyone thinks we’re twins”). The result is a more insidious portrayal of prejudice, the kind that creeps under your skin – a white-coded character’s snide remark that unlike Alice, she wasn’t “raised in a jungle” cuts deeper than a mere slur.
For all that makes Alice great, it is a shame that the titular character falls flat in comparison to the other players in the story. Alice’s more understated characterization sets her apart from the rest of the larger-than-life cast, but it also makes her more of a vessel for the plot to happen through than a fleshed-out character with agency.
Alice’s real Achilles hell, however, is a common pitfall of many new writers – its third act. Most of the story is delivered in a mock-storybook style, but it is largely grounded in reality. To avoid spoiling too much – as the play takes a darker turn, it takes on a more surreal tone as well. This is not necessarily a bad thing – there’s a lot to enjoy once we go through the looking-glass, so to speak – but the third act of the play lacks the focus, drive and most importantly, clarity of the first two.
Alice is a hell of a ride. Despite being a flawed piece, it is wildly enjoyable and thought-provoking. If any of this is at all appealing to you, I urge you to avoid reading any more about it, buy the ticket, and take the ride.