Fourteen is the theatrical adaption of journalist Shannon Molloy’s groundbreaking autobiography, centred on growing up gay in a brutally mundane small town in Queensland. 

 

Nelle Lee and Nick Skubij have worked alongside Molloy himself to adapt this incredibly confronting text into a glitzy theatrical work filled with a revolving door cast of allies and antagonists that all, in their own way, impact Shannon Molloy during his tumultuous fourteenth year.

 

There is a lot to contemplate in this show, with its incredibly (I’m gonna say it again, incredibly) confronting depictions of homophobia and assault setting a tone that allows you to feel the levity and relief from the more comedic scenes where Molloy is able to again feel himself.

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Images by Joel Devereux

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The dance scenes were all incredibly well choreographed, but I do have to wonder about their place in the show overall. It’s one thing to balance comedy and tragedy on a knife’s edge, I think theatre is the best medium to do this, but breaking out to Spice Girls or S Club 7 in a show that also features some very graphic scenes of sexual and physical abuse just sort of throws the tone all over the place. It’s picked up with the humanity that Conor Leach manages to imbue the role with, very believably articulating the persona of a fourteen year old boy in ‘99.

 

I think it was a very difficult task set out for the adaptors of this show to try and reconcile the incredible peaks and devastating troughs of Molloy’s fourteenth year into a production that must also consistently refresh the viewers with catharsis. We see a sort of algorithm at play, for x number of homophobic antagonists we must then have y number of free spirited allies that keep the tone hopeful. Every member of the cast is a swing besides Leach, and with one or two exceptions the cast all has a turn being someone that’s either building Molloy up or tearing him down

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Images by Joel Devereux

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It’s a wonderful showcase of some incredibly talented actors, a unique opportunity to see the range that each player can provide to a truly startling amount of roles, but in the context of the show, it just leaves me feeling a touch confused.

 

The show’s stereotypes of the prejudiced, unintelligent bogan clash with its stereotypes of the hyper-camp, ultra glitzy homosexual. If the comedy that comprises I’d say 40% of the show (with tragedy being the other 60) is supposed to be some core component of the show’s message, I suppose I’m just left wondering what that message is. 

 

In one scene we have the stereotype of the slack jawed, would-miss-his-hands-if-he-tried-to-clap bogan kid, braced against the stereotype of the incredibly flamboyant, outed gay kid, complete with mincing and jazz hands. Do we laugh at the former, but not the latter? What exactly does it mean if we’re laughing at both? This show’s content matter is just a bit too serious for us to say “oh well, it’s just a bit, laugh it off and don’t think about it too much”.

 

I think it reached a head when Molloy, after a particularly harrowing and downright terrifying scene (again, the efforts of the actors to cling onto the tonal back-and-forth cannot be overstated, they were great) goes to do something very stupid and life threatening, we’ll say. He’s interrupted by a call. First from a friend of his from high school, one of the less archetypal characters that really only wants to protect Shannon from what we see of him. The next call, following this scene of intense self harm, has the outed gay kid in a tuxedo call Shannon from an antique mickey mouse phone, asking him if everything’s alright.

 

It’s not the time, and in a show meant to show one person’s coming-into-their-own, as an individual instead of a label, it’s hardly the place.

But the struggles this show had to reflect its source material in a meaningful way are shored up by the stand-out cast. Everyone more than pulls their weight, Steve Rooke and Ryan Hodson each an emotional powerhouse who put soul and humanity into every one of their characters. Leach, as I’ve mentioned, is a startlingly good lead who makes you feel this friendship and empathetic bond with Molloy almost immediately, his joys are your joys, his sorrows also yours to bear.

 

A special note must be made to the amazing Karen Crone, whose portrayal of Molloy’s mother has to be one of the most convincing and cathartic performances of the show.

 

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Image by Joel Devereux

 

There’s a lot to love with Fourteen. There’s also just a lot to sort of pull a face at while you scratch your head. Perhaps the virtue of the somewhat unfocused story was that, as I left the theatre still satisfied, I got to understand that it was from the raw energy and vibrancy that each player put into their roles, giving every scene their all.

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