JOHN: Ah—no. I’m available Saturday.
PRODUCER: Good. John, you left the origin box blank on your application. Which—ah—mob are you from?
JOHN: Mob?
PRODUCER: Where are you from?
JOHN: Ah … I’m from … from … Northern Territory. Arnhem Land.
PRODUCER: You’re a Yolngu boy?
JOHN: Yep. True Yolngu boy.
PRODUCER: So you speak Yolngu too?
JOHN: Fluently.
PRODUCER: Wonderful. Which island?
JOHN: Crocodile Island.
PRODUCER: Near Gananggarngur Island?
JOHN: Yep.
PRODUCER: I adore the Crocodile Island group.
JOHN: [sung] ‘My island home’.
SCENE THIRTEEN
BRONWYN, JOHN, JANELLE and LIVVY gather around the barbecue, drinking cask wine. LIVVY’s screeching budgies can be heard inside.
BRONWYN: A toast to Janelle and her awards on Saturday. To Janelle!
ALL: To Janelle.
BRONWYN: [whispered to JANELLE] Don’t worry, Janelle. The sting will go away.
JANELLE: Good.
BRONWYN: [whispered to JANELLE] I put some horny goat weed in John’s Vegemite.
JOHN: What are you two whispering about?
JANELLE: Nothing.
JOHN: Do you have any fake tan I can borrow, Janelle?
BRONWYN: What?
JANELLE: I’ve got bucket-loads. Now have you made your decision about you-know-what, John?
The bird noises grow louder.
BRONWYN: Oh, Livvy, is it really that hard to breed a yellow willie wagtail budgie?
LIVVY: A yellow-faced violet recessive pied spangle budgie, Mum. And yes. It’s very hard.
JANELLE: Poor Dicky can’t get hard.
JOHN: Janelle. Don’t blaspheme.
JANELLE: Whoops. Blasphemy bag.
LIVVY: Why won’t Dicky do Fanny?
BRONWYN: Yes. Why won’t Fanny get pregnant?
JANELLE: Give him time, Livvy. Debbie didn’t do Dallas in a day. [To JOHN] Now what’s your decision about Burn Baby Burn?
JOHN: Well … I’ve thought about it a lot and … Oh, man. I’m losing it. I’ve lost it already.
JANELLE: What, the ring?
JOHN: No, my job. I got fired.
BRONWYN: What?
JANELLE: That’s perfect.
JOHN: Not fired. Retrenched. I … Janelle … I … I’ve quit acting. Let’s run Burn Baby Burn together.
JANELLE: Oh, my God. Really?
LIVVY: John!
JANELLE: You’re gonna quit acting and work for—work with me? Really?
JOHN: Yes.
JANELLE: Oh, my God! Blasphemy bag.
LIVVY: [whispered] I thought you were going to tell her that you wanna work for Sandy instead.
JOHN: [whispered] I wanted to but I couldn’t.
LIVVY: [whispered] You like Sandy, don’t you?
JOHN: [whispered] Livvy, shhhh.
LIVVY: [whispered] The awards are on at the same time as Sandy’s opening.
JOHN: [whispered] I know.
LIVVY: [whispered] You’re in a real pickle, bro.
JOHN: [whispered] I hate pickle.
JANELLE: What are you two whispering about?
JOHN: Nothing.
JANELLE: John, focus. This is gonna be so good for business. I’ll … we’ll be the pride of Greystanes.
BRONWYN: Livvy, to bed. Janelle, take John upstairs and celebrate together. I’m going to go and put on some relaxing music.
BRONWYN exits.
LIVVY: Why John?
LIVVY exits.
JANELLE: I thought they’d never leave. I had an Italian boyfriend once, his family were glued to him. Wog families. Hahaha. Sometimes it’s so hard to be alone with you, Johnny.
JOHN: We’re not a wog family, Janelle.
JANELLE: I know.
JOHN: You shouldn’t use that word. It’s racist.
JANELLE: You’ve changed your tune, Mr Singaporean Dingo.
JOHN: Words are powerful. They have a frequency.
JANELLE: I know. I’m not racist. I’m religionist. When are you gonna start coming to Chillsong with me? It’s so lovely. Particularly the chapel.
JOHN: The theatre is my church, Janelle.
JANELLE: Not anymore. Babe … I can’t hold this in any longer. I’ve gotta tell you something about your mum. I hate keeping secrets from you, but I’ve got to be honest. She’s gone too far. We’ve been going baby clothes shopping together. Every week. She really wants for us to settle down. She wants grandkids real bad. Do you?
JOHN: Want grandkids? Um, shouldn’t we have kids first?
JANELLE: Exactly.
JOHN: There’s plenty of time for that. We need to build our Barbie Empire before we start buying Barbie Dolls.
JANELLE: I agree. But your mum’s trying to force us to have kids.
JOHN: I know. I saw her Genetic Spawn.
JANELLE: You are her genetic spawn. What’s that awful noise?
JOHN: Oh, my God.
JANELLE: Don’t blaspheme. What’s up?
JOHN: Mum’s not playing Olivia Newton-John music.
JANELLE: What’s she playing?
JOHN: I think it’s Billy Idol.
JANELLE: What song?
JOHN: ‘White Wedding’.
SCENE FOURTEEN
JOHN does a really bad version of an Indigenous dance. SANDY enters and sees him dancing.
SANDY: What the hell was that?
JOHN: The choreographer taught it to me.
SANDY: What are you doing here?
JOHN: You hired me.
SANDY: No, I didn’t.
JOHN: Well, it’s not my fault you were in Melbourne. Your white fella funding club at City of Sydney loved me.
SANDY: You’re unbelievable.
JOHN: I’m a scallywag. I know.
SANDY: You can’t work in this company.
JOHN: I already am. I’ve got a lot of experience in tour guiding. I know all the facts.
SANDY: Facts? You have a lot to learn about facts.
JOHN: Well, I’ll learn it. Teach me.
SANDY: I wouldn’t know where to start.
JOHN: Did you enjoy the show today?
He starts doing his dance again. SANDY laughs.
How did the auditions go in Melbourne?
SANDY: More ‘authentic’ than the Sydney ones.
JOHN: Why are you always picking on me? I had to go to hospital because of you.
SANDY: I can’t help it if you got spiced out! You can’t be in the troupe.
JOHN: I love that word. Troupe. Bring in the troupes …
SANDY: Mate, this is serious.
JOHN: I love your company logo, Sandy. Did you design it yourself?
SANDY: I did.
JOHN: It’s really clever.
SANDY: Thanks.
JOHN: I’ve never felt part of a team before. Not even with footy. I love being in your troupe. I really like wearing your company shirt.
SANDY: Hate being an Indian giver, but you gotta hand it back.
JOHN: Even Gav let me keep my convict outfit as a souvenir.
JOHN takes the company shirt off, revealing a hypercolour t-shirt.
SANDY: You’re wearing a lot of layers for summer.
JOHN: I don’t wanna get burnt.
SANDY: Yuck, the shirt’s all sweaty.
JOHN: What can I say? I’m hot.
SANDY laughs.
SANDY: Hypercolour?
JOHN: Yep.
SANDY: I used to love hypercolour.
JOHN: I still love it. I’ve got hypercolour socks and even briefs. This is the only hypercolour shirt I have that still changes colour, though.
SANDY: It seriously still works?
JOHN: Yep. Give me your hand.
SANDY gives him her hand. He puts it on his heart. The shirt changes colour where SANDY’s hand was—leaving a handprint on his heart.
Please don’t fire me, Sandy. I couldn’t handle being fired twice in the same month.
SANDY: I don’t want to fire you but I have to.
JOHN: I can’t be a convict, I can’t be a beach extra, I can’t be in your dance troupe. I’ve been pumicing my skin for months now. All over my body. Now I’m fake-tanning myself so I can be in your company. I’m losing my mind. I don’t know where the hell I fit in anymore. I’m between a rock and a blackface.
Pause.
SANDY: Okay. You’ve got a month to find another job and then you’re out. I’ll try and find a place for you in the troupe. But I’m taking you out of the dance sections and you can only do the narrations.
JOHN: Thank you, Sandy.
SANDY: You’re putting me in a really compromising position.
JOHN: Awesome.
SANDY: I don’t know why I’m doing this. I’m gonna get in so much trouble if anyone finds out.
JOHN: No-one will find out. Everything’ll turn out alright.
SANDY: I highly doubt it.
JOHN: You dare doubt the hypercolour briefs man?
SANDY laughs.
SANDY: Have you really been sanding yourself?
JOHN: No. Yes, I’m even sandier than you.
SANDY: That isn’t funny. It’s concerning.
JOHN: I know. It’s not so easy to change colour, unless you’re hypercolour.
SANDY: You wanna learn some things about us fellas?
JOHN: Yes.
SANDY: Lunch. My shout. I’ll debrief you.
SCENE FIFTEEN
BRONWYN and LIVVY wait nervously. JANELLE enters, holding a trophy. JOHN enters sheepishly.
JANELLE: You’ve got real nerve showing up now.
JOHN: I’m sorry, Janelle. My new boss—I should have told you, I got another tour guide job.
JANELLE: You’re a liar. You said you quit. You’re so selfish. You’ve ruined my night. You’ve ruined my life.
JOHN: I’m so sorry.
JANELLE: You had no intention of ever running Burn Baby Burn with me, did you?
JOHN: I did. But then I got offered this other tour guiding job. It was unexpected.
JANELLE: You’re a liar! I never want to see you again.
LIVVY: Thank God.
JOHN: Janelle—
JANELLE: I don’t want to be in your screwed-up family. Get out of my sight.
JOHN begins to walk away.
BRONWYN: Keep calm, Janelle.
JANELLE: Shut up, Mrs G! Don’t you walk away from me, John Green!
JOHN continues to walk away.
Bastard! Everyone knows that you’re the milkman’s son!
BRONWYN: There was no milkman!
JANELLE: How else could he be black and his family be white? Look at your little sister. She’s white and you’re black.
BRONWYN: He’s not black.
JOHN: I’m not black. Livvy’s cheap shoes are black. My hair is black. I am not black.
LIVVY: You know what will be black though? Your eye.
BRONWYN: We are British!
JANELLE: Who was that Heather lady?
BRONWYN: Our ancestors are Anglo-Saxon Normans. Anglos from Denmark. Saxons from Germany. Normans from France. You know, British! Like all other British.
JANELLE: What about the graffiti?
BRONWYN: With a little Swedish Viking thrown in. Your grandmother’s village was pillaged when they built the first Ikea store in Leicester.
JOHN: So you’re saying Grandpa was a Leicester molester?
BRONWYN: Yes, but Swedish. Your grandmother’s hair was red like rubies and her skin was as white as the cliffs of Dover. She was the quintessential English rose!
JANELLE: What a load of shit.
LIVVY: So Gran was a granga?
JOHN: Are you even my mum, Mum?
BRONWYN: Of course I’m your mother, darling.There’s no milkman. I swear on God. I swear on Olivia Newton-John!
JANELLE: I never want to see your family again. The wedding is off!
JOHN: What wedding?
JANELLE: She bleached my fanny!
JOHN: What?
JANELLE: Your mum’s an absolute psycho. Not only did she force me to go to the intimate bleaching salon, she bought me Pink Pecker cream so I’d bleach your pecker pinker!
JOHN: Mum!
JANELLE: And she pressured me to use Pink Wink cream to whitewash my vertical smile!
JOHN: Mum, is this true?
BRONWYN: No!
JOHN: Pink Pecker cream?
BRONWYN: Janelle’s lying.
JANELLE: I’m not! She thinks that if my lady bits are pinker, that she’ll get grandchildren.
BRONWYN: I’ve never heard of Pink Wink cream!
JANELLE: She bought a super pump pack! You and your family are insane! You’re dumped, John.
BRONWYN: No! Dashed are my dreams of being a grand-MILF!
JANELLE: I would never want a child that could inherit your genes! I’m not your lab rat anymore!
JOHN: Janelle—
JANELLE: She groomed me to become a monogamous nymphomaniac! I’m a good Christian girl!
BRONWYN: You’re a fake and a phony and I wish I’d never laid eyes on you!
END OF ACT ONE
ACT TWO
SCENE ONE
JOHN stands onstage debating whether to wear his green contact lenses. MERLE enters, frantic.
MERLE: My gravestone! My grave!
JOHN: Not now, lady ghost.
MERLE: Don’t you call me a ghost! Once I had a fulsome figure, but now, I’m entirely apparitional.
JOHN: I’m pretending to be entirely Aboriginal.
MERLE: I know. The pretending has to stop! My whole life was an extended lie and all I have left is a grave of deceit. My gravestone is cursed!
Pause.
I’m … I’m not Tasmanian. I just wanted to get in with Flynn. But he was more interested in his ‘merry men’. If I told the truth, I never would have reached the heights that I did.
JOHN: I understand.
MERLE: I know you do. We’re mutually entwined. I may be flawed and fractured, but I’m still your spirit guide.
JOHN: My mum’s messed up and I reckon only you can help her.
MERLE: She’s quite something.
JOHN: Help her to help me? Please?
MERLE: Mahatma’s mother needs help too? That wasn’t part of the plan.
JOHN: Please, Merle. If you fix her then I’ll be whoever you need me to be. Deal or no deal?
MERLE: I shall dig to the depths of your mother’s secret chamber. Deal.
SCENE TWO
ANIL enters. JOHN enters wearing a hoodie and sunglasses.
ANIL: [to an optometrist offstage] Doctor? Where’s my order? Fifteen parcels of the blue. Another fifteen of the grey/blue lenses. Fifteen of the violet blue lenses and twelve parcels of the aquamarine. Jaldi karo, mate. I haven’t got all day.
JOHN: Indian actors wear coloured contact lenses?
ANIL: Of course, my new cast are arriving from India today. How else can I make them look natural and sexy. Who are you—the Grim Reaper?
JOHN: Shhh. I don’t want my new girlfriend to bust me here. I’m trying to wean myself off contacts.
ANIL: Then why are you at the optometrist?
JOHN: I’m lapsing.
ANIL: Hey—I remember you from Bindhi Beach when Patel’s patella was broken. I never forget a face. Good, bad or ugly.
JOHN: How did Bindhi Beach turn out?
ANIL: Let’s just say it’s lucky you didn’t replace Patel.
JOHN: Why?
ANIL: The production was cancelled. My Indian money-man thinks this country is dumb, drunk and racist.
JOHN: Wasn’t that a TV show?
ANIL: That’s why he got that impression. So he pulled the plug on the finance.
JOHN: Sorry to hear that. Do you think we are?
ANIL: Personally I don’t see it. But that might be my cheap contacts. Either way, I’m getting
a lot of work here. More than I ever did in Bombay.
JOHN: I thought you were huge over there?
ANIL: No, that was Daddy Dixit—Anil the Second. He won nine FilmFare awards in a single year. My granddaddy Anil Dixit the First, founded the FilmFare awards, which explains why he won so many.
JOHN: So why didn’t you get the same treatment?
ANIL: Somebody changed the bloody rules. Nepotism has a use-by date. My first masterpiece, Gondwanaland, was ripped to pieces by the press like the tattered tectonic plates of a jigsaw puzzle.
JOHN: Is that why you came here to do Bindhi Beach?
ANIL: Ya, I thought I could make it here, and show those buggers back home who’s boss. But the script was such a cliché. Kangaroos, koalas … How often do you see those animals at Bondi Beach? Then Patel broke his patella. I thought fate is not on our side. But then I saw you, and destiny smacked me in the face. We Indians know when we sense destiny. But you turned your back on it.
JOHN: Destiny?
ANIL: Australia gave me a second chance. I would like to give you one too. I’ll be shooting a self-funded Bollywood musical.
JOHN: You’re shooting here?
ANIL: We couldn’t shoot in Calcutta because many of the old British buildings are falling apart. In Sydney your historic buildings are new. So we’ll recreate Calcutta in Sydney. Won’t be too hard, scrape off some paint, a few cracks in the facades, open up the sewers, faint waft of cedar wood and urine, unfinished monuments. We already have permission to shoot in the Queen Victoria Building, by the Queen herself.
JOHN: Really, the Queen?
ANIL: Yes, Clover Moore. The film is called Addy. It’s set in eighteen seventy-eight in Calcutta and is based on a true story. It’s about the first Indian actor who played Othello in India, Baishnab Charan Addy. For many years in colonial India only white British actors were allowed to play Othello. And they wore blackface. Addy was the first native Indian man to play Othello without blackface. The casting of Addy inspired Indians to stand up to their colonial masters and win their country back. So it’s a very important film. You see?
JOHN: Not quite. So it’s a film about the first brown man to play a black man on stage in white colonial India?
ANIL: Precisely. [To the optometrist] Eh jaldi karo, mate. Where are my contacts?
JOHN: Anil, don’t make a spectacle.
Lighten Up Page 4