Snakeface - 25A

Snakeface

25A Belvoir

Fruitbox Theatre present writer, performer Aliyah Knight in “Snakeface”. This is an ambitious 90-minute monologue traversing myth, coming of age, sexual abuse, condemnation, and transformation.  Aliyah Knight is a charismatic presence who draws us to this complex work.

The writing is poetic – sometimes arresting with its crystal-clear imagery, sometime opaque, overstated. “Snakeface”, the title, refers to the deadly, snake-haired Medusa of Greek myth. Medusa, one of the most infamous figures in Greek mythology, has long been a symbol of fear, danger, and power. Best known for her serpent-covered head and deadly gaze that turns people into stone, she is typically regarded as a monstrous female figure. However, if we consider Medusa through the lens of masculine objectification, a deeper and more complex narrative emerges, revealing how her portrayal reflects broader themes of power, control, and the male gaze.

“Snakeface” transforms Medusa into a victim, made into a monster by sexual violence.  Along with the text there are moments of frenetic dance (movement director Fetu Taku) behind a central dark screen.  This is striking and leans into subject matter and feeling the text cannot navigate. Possibly the stronger part of the performance once the context is established.  The central screen also acts as a projection surface onto which oblique words and fragments of text are projected. They were hard to read (in terms of legibility) and when considered with the spoken and physical text are possibly redundant in an already overstuffed production of a non-liner story.  A block of what looks like stone, but we discover is wet clay (with numerous religious overtones) – becomes an original metaphor for the body, its sexual encounters, white bodies of lovers, a covering of shame, revulsion as wet handfuls are slapped, nudged and spread on Knight’s body. Our central character, Maddie, is also a sculptor and although nothing really comes of the clay it is an intriguing and unusual element to see on stage.

The work feels authentic, visceral in its telling of growing up black, queer, discovering oneself through high school crushes, sexual trauma, white Australia, art. “Snakeface” offers us an expansive canvas.  Director Bernadette Fam and. Associate Director Rachel Seeto head a large creative team who orchestrate this lively story of twists and turns.  The work does feel overly long, and one wonders of losing some of the repetition might have made for a more searing experience. There is joy in this creative work, and it is exciting to see an imaginative and deeply personal work from artists who intersect marginalised identities (BIPOC, LGBTQIA+) experimenting with form and content. Hearing from new voices opens possibilities for others and validates lived experience.  The team provide resources to support and help audience process the material they have witnessed.

While “Snakeface” and other feminist readings have reclaimed Medusa as a symbol of female empowerment, her dominant representation in mythology and media reflects a legacy of masculine control and objectification, a story in which she is punished for her autonomy and ultimately reduced to a tool for male use. I wasn’t convinced that the Medusa of this poetic rendering had enough pay off, perhaps a clearer dramatic journey may have helped us through the maze of experience.

Review by Kate Gaul

Image by Abraham de Souza