THEATRE REVIEW: Gay Death Stocktake
7.09.2022 and 9.09.2022 Basement Theatre, Auckland
Photo by Ankita Singh
Before heading to this show, I didn’t know what Gay Death was. I genuinely thought it was just a cool title for the performance. After watching Sam Te Kani and Sam Low’s performances, I learnt that Gay Death meant that after a certain age (30), gay men are perceived as less desirable, attractive and fun. As Alex Woodward from Bad Apple Gay so succinctly puts it: “if you’re over 30 you can’t party, you can’t fuck, and you should sit down and eat your keto cake”.
Gay Death Stocktake explores ideas of gay male existence and identity through the mouthpiece of a different gay male performer each night - some are actors, some aren’t, but none have been prepared for the script, the stage or the performance. The performers are led into the theatre blindfolded, being born onto the stage in darkness and confusion. No director, no rehearsals, no time to prepare. The performers are then forced to scramble through 30 tasks under the omnipotent eye of creator, Nathan Joe. Set your timers: they only have 60 minutes to do it. The tasks range from being tickled by the audience, reminiscing about gay male icons who have died (love the mention of Leslie Cheung), and getting to know the performer in very intimate ways (are you a top, bottom or vers?).
Beneath the absurdist set-up for the show, Nathan’s script was sensitive and poignant. It didn’t pander to dreary existentialism and instead approached the topics of aging, identity and death with subversive excitement. The stage was arranged like a warped children’s birthday party, complete with a cake. Balloons labeled 1-30 floated around the stage, each with a task attached to its dangling ribbon. This was a clever way to get the audience involved, and I found myself yelling at the performers when they struggled to find the next balloon. The note-writing and lollies, as well as the frequent participation of volunteers, included the audience on the journey alongside the performer. Instead of simply watching the performers, the audience became performers themselves, just as engaged in the tasks as Te Kani or Low. Under the guise of a party game, Nathan crafted a masterful exploration of Gay Death for everyone to partake in.
Photo by Ankita Singh
One of the major highlights was the show’s originality. Part comedy, part performance, part cardio routine, it provided an intimate look into Nathan’s mind through the body of another person. In Sam Low’s performance, I enjoyed the way the “body” and the “mind” overlapped, with the two often becoming indistinguishable. Low inhabited Nathan’s identity while maintaining a humorously critical eye. He was raw and genuine, approaching the script with an endearing light-heartedness, yet striking the right chords at heavier moments. The two artists tangibly connected onstage, despite Nathan being visible only through his words and the performer just reading them for the first time.
One of the major highlights was the show’s originality. Part comedy, part performance, part cardio routine, it provided an intimate look into Nathan’s mind through the body of another person.
In contrast, Sam Te Kani obviously rolled his eyes and challenged some of Nathan’s commentary. Te Kani was more chaotic, and the “body” and “mind” were distinctly separate entities. He was hugely entertaining, with constant comedic quips and witty responses to Nathan’s prompts (What is your favourite thing about being homosexual? Te Kani, without pause: my prostate). As an opening night, Te Kani was a fantastic choice. He had the audience rolling for the entirety of the set. Initially, I felt Te Kani didn’t fit the performance, and worried that the message was lost to the comedic turn. But after watching Sam Low, I suddenly loved the difference in their interactions with the script. Te Kani didn’t care for the task list or the imaginary milestones, he was just having fun. In contrast, Low often contemplated his answers carefully, reading each instruction thoroughly before starting. These interactions demonstrated not only the malleability of the script, but also of the identity that was being explored.
Through the use of these five unprepped performers, Nathan made a statement about the gay male identity, and specifically an identity that has been reduced to costume: An identity that has been reduced to rainbow banners for corporate companies and pride month adverts for fast food brands. Between each performer were distinct similarities but also distinct differences in how they approached their own identities. Sam Low and Sam Te Kani answered some of the questions almost exactly the same, but also responded to other questions with starkly different thoughts. Gay Death Stocktake delves deep into the stereotyping of gale male culture and challenges it from within, discovering points of comradery and tension. Asking performers to do a burpee for each gay male achievement (e.g If you have watched the first season Ru Paul’s Drag Race) not only showed the distinctiveness of identity but the similarities, the mutual bonds, of it too.
By using a surrogate body on stage, Nathan was able to confess his thoughts with an interesting sense of distance and removal. His words were filtered through someone who had never experienced his life. Nathan reconciles with lost childhood experiences through the “possessed” body of one of the performers, wondering what it would be like to have had the freedom to ask a boy out at prom. Nathan’s performance is more than just about turning 30 and losing your status as a gay man, it’s about reconciling with memories and regrets. Gay Death Stocktake is fun, and it is belly-achingly funny, but it is also incredibly touching: While being tickled on stage, the performer is asked to read through a rant about the privilege of cis-white men. He’s laughing and you’re laughing and you’re watching this man on stage get tickled, but beneath it all he’s talking about something deeper and sadder, something that needs to be heard.
He’s laughing and you’re laughing and you’re watching this man on stage get tickled, but beneath it all he’s talking about something deeper and sadder, something that needs to be heard.
LGBTQIA+ and minority communities are rarely heard. Our voices are stifled beneath the loudness of capitalist power structures. Our efforts to dispute, change and revolutionize are often met with “does everything have to be an argument with you?”. Gay Death Stocktake feels like a calculated inversion of this conversation. Rather than confronting the audience, the performance disarms you with chaos and humour in order to tell you something you need to know.
Gay Death Stocktake features a different performer each night. Another gay male in their 30s who has not read the script, attended a rehearsal, or prepared for the stage. Nathan’s work is beautiful, and the play is incredibly original. It is hugely relatable and yet still grounded in the identity of the gay male experience. Authentic, poignant and hilarious, yet another great piece of immersive theatre from Nathan Joe. I look forward to the other Hot Shame productions.
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You can book your tickets for Gay Death Stocktake here!
Performers: Sam Te Kani, Ryan Carter, Sam Low, Esaú Mora, Tom Clarke
Writer: Nathan Joe
Dramaturg: Daniel Goodwin
Producer: Nathan Joe
Presented by: Hot Shame