Theatre
Naked ambition
by Natasha Hay
In 1952, screen legend Gary Cooper films Return to Paradise in Samoa. In 1953, Gary Cooper is born in Samoa. This second Gary Cooper is the protagonist of Victor Rodger’s terrific new play, My Name Is Gary Cooper, whose image of a south-seas idyll is hardly Hollywood.
Yet Hollywood is all-pervasive. We jump between three settings: Los Angeles, 1974; Auckland’s rundown Hollywood cinema, 2000; and Samoa after Hollywood came calling.
But the Tinseltown dream that 20-year-old Gary (Robbie Magasiva) has in mind is as dark as the day he washes up in pouring rain at the Beverly Hills house of stills photographer Nick White (Roy Snow). Luckily for Gary, Nick’s wife Connie (Jennifer Ward-Lealand) and their 19-year-old twins (Damien Harrison and Liesha Ward Knox) are immediately starstruck – especially when Gary peels off his dripping ie faitaga – and invite him to stay. What ensues is more than a cultural clash between the seemingly naive island lad and the Whites.
Essentially this is a revenge comedy-drama, where Rodger touches on themes of Polynesian theatre, such as home and belonging, cultural taboos and loss of innocence. His previous plays, Sons and Ranterstantrum, were hard-hitting and issues-based; here Rodger’s style is more subversive. The LA scenes whiz by like a 70s sitcom (complete with gaudy 70s fashion), but beneath the glibness is a tragic, soulful undertow, which becomes apparent when the play flashes back to Samoa.
As Gary, Magasiva is pumped-up beefcake – Rodger is giving a sly wink to the audience as he toys with the noble savage myth and notion of the sexually liberated islander. Poignantly, after Gary performs a slap dance for his leering hosts, we flash back to Samoa, 1952, to his mother dancing for her Palagi lover. Like his namesake, Gary is the strong silent type and Magasiva’s understated acting style and intense presence is reminiscent of the actor; his sex appeal and charisma drive the action.
In this audaciously sexy play, a lot of the scenes are poolside and Mark McEntyre’s set evokes this strikingly with a wall of glass panels, lit up in swimming-pool blues reminiscent of David Hockney paintings. The panels slide back and forth to efficiently locate scenes, with projected images of rolling surf, movie stills, Technicolor sunsets.
Under nicely judged direction by Roy Ward, where the story unfolds grippingly as we are drip-fed clever plot-twists, the cast of eight is superb. Standouts: Ward-Lealand – taut, tanned and attached to a martini glass – is the most sympathetic character and Ward Knox gives a vivacious performance that’s simultaneously lascivious and innocent. And as T, from the 2000 scenes, Goretti Chadwick is funny and earthy; her final scene with Gary extremely moving.
The play’s excellent dialogue, intriguing story and an overall theatrical freshness make this show a cracker.
MY NAME IS GARY COOPER, by Victor Rodger; directed by Roy Ward, ATC, Maidment Theatre, until October 13.
