Review: TruScum at Motley Bauhaus

Review by Greg Gorton

Oof. If you want some lighthearted comedy to finish off your night, there are other places to be. But if you want to be seriously challenged about the expectations you put on advocates, the dangers of internet celebrity, and just how complex the trans identity is, then TruScum is the show for you.

Greg Robertson is a minor internet celebrity, born of his YouTube videos that speak to his trans identity, and then cultural responses to trans issues, he finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with the “gotcha” culture of online political discourse. After making the mistake of “debating” a celebrity TERF (transphobic “feminist”), and blowing up at her, he comes online to give an “apology” stream. And it doesn’t go well. Over an hour we watch Greg fall apart on live stream, in front of an audience chat that has little care for the person behind the camera. He opens up the darkest parts of his mind, brushes off his hatred and alcoholism, and experiences heartache in a multitude of ways.

Damn, this was a tough thing to watch.

TruScum is set in a live stream, ala Twitch or YouTube Live. Greg sits in his gaming chair, the screen projected behind him (complete with user chatter), and (for the most part) concentrates himself entirely on his audience.

Oscar Bray has written a script here that is difficult to properly praise. On a narrative level, we have a clear devolution of a character at the same time we are learning the full story behind them. The script has many elements of dark humour, and clearly has the finger on the pulse of the currently online world. Bray also knows when to give the audience a moment to process what has been thrown at them before proceeding to pile on larger servings on tragedy and pain.

The character of Greg is a masterwork. The start of the play allows him to set the narrative but then, as the play progresses, we learn that a person can be right in some things and wrong in others, filled with righteous anger, but also just anger. There is no lecturing in this work, at least not about the major messages left behind, but it will be found as surprisingly accessible to those who may only just be learning about the dark world of internet celebrity.

Frankie Thorne, a trans man himself, brings Greg to life in all his painful and damaging ways. Thorne offers up righteous anger, because that is what Greg believes he has. He offers up memories of dark times without “reliving them”. Most importantly, the struggle we all have to fight against our internal biases is portrayed so perfectly that you just want to reach out and smack him upside the head. I think the greatest compliment to give to Frankie is the people outside of the venue afterwards who believed that this play was a retelling of a real story that happened to him. One even needed to be explained to that “No, he doesn’t really think that.”

There is a great little cameo from the wonderful Bridget Morrison, who completely re-invents herself in every role I see her in. As a pre-recorded Alison, she plays the bitter conservative woman, drowning in the patriarchy that we cannot escape from our news every day. These people satirise themselves, and Morrison did a wonderful job hooking into the humour without becoming a cardboard cutout of a joke.

There is a risk with Bray’s play to allow a tediousness to seep into the performance, especially as much of it is told from a chair in the middle of a stage. While this is partly ameliorated by the projected “stream”, “chat” and videos, it would not be enough to properly accept the character of Greg so fully.

This is where we really have to hand it to director Gabrielle Ward, who has made this play far more dynamic than its summary might suggest. We aren’t just watching a stream, but watching a young man in his bedroom, making that stream. The audience isn’t watching through the camera, though, we see what it does. No, we are in the house with him, seeing the real him, and all the pain he carries.

This amazing group of creatives have produced something very special with TruScum. On one hand, a darkly entertaining story of a man’s fall from “glory”, on the other a serious commentary about the complexities of identity, the dangers of “echo chambers”, and judging others by only our own experiences. It is not a play to use as an after-dinner-mint for your fringe night out, but it is a play that will have you thinking for days to come, and even maybe trying to learn more about transgender issues and the trans experience.

Image Supplied