There are many great traditions of Christmas performances, mostly European and American in origin, where the occurrence of Christmas in deep winter means it is more likely that people will want to be inside watching a show.
Christmas pantomimes emerging from the 16th century Commedia dell’ Arte in Italy have been reimagined across British stages each year and are designed for enthusiastic audience participation.
Christmas special cabaret-style events, often streamed on television, usually feature a blend of comedy sketches and Christmas songs hosted by a celebrity (see Sabrina Carpenter’s A Nonsense Christmas on Netflix right now for a good example).
In Australia, we have the annual tradition of Christmas carol concerts, from local outdoor community events to the nationally televised Carols by Candlelight.
This year, Malthouse Theatre brings audiences a new kind of Christmas variety show created by the exceptional artistic team of Fat Fruit (Sarah Ward and Bec Matthews) and Susie Dee.
F Christmas is a camp Christmas pageant, taking a playful but uncomfortable aim at the corporate architecture that underpins Christmas and bringing a queer, feminist and highly subversive perspective to advent cheer.
The show questions the great myth of yuletide togetherness and exposes the tensions underpinning many of our Christmas traditions, and the harm these traditions can perpetuate for people who sit outside the status quo.
Naughty, often naked, deeply wild
The show begins in the foyer, with a ridiculous Santa photo set up overseen by a rowdy punk elf wearing a sleigh costume (Nicci Wilks). A PVC-clad version of the Elf on the Shelf (Seth Sladen) congratulates me when I collect my ticket from the box office saying I am, indeed, on the naughty list.
Inside the theatre, the striking set by Romanie Harper is a rich glittering spectacle of red and green with a thoughtful but punchy approach to sustainability.
An archway stretches across the space, adorned with dead Christmas trees (presumably from last year – they are VERY dead), discarded wrapping paper and tinsel and broken bits of Christmas wreaths and baubles.
A red and green skip to the side of the stage is full of more Christmas debris, and used from time to time throughout the show for the performers to discard props and emerge from the bin itself. The band, led by Matthews, is also on stage.
Our punk elf from the foyer kicks things off, descending from a rope and letting us know we are not here for a traditional Christmas celebration and that the clue to the naughty, often naked, deeply wild show was in the name – so we really shouldn’t be surprised.
What follows is an eclectic mix of sketches. We have solo circus tricks with hoops and rings by Circus Oz alumni Jess Love. The fabulous Dale Woodbridge-Brown is outrageously funny in a routine as a small boy too naughty to get any presents this year. A range of ensemble routines are fabulously choreographed by Gabi Barton.
Throughout, the show is anchored by two hosts, Andrew (John Marc Desengano) and Geraldine (Ward) who take the familiar and make it strange. They appear in suits and frocks visibly held together by hair clips, taking aim at the Carols by Candlelight tradition and its alarmingly white and gendered context.
Raucous solidarity
Throughout the beautifully choreographed chaos, tricks, dancing, nudity and laughter, the message of the show resounds. Christmas is a tricky time, and right now the requirement to celebrate is harder on some than on others.
The show mentions the cost of living crisis and how that can come into painful acuteness for people during Christmas. It references the ongoing climate catastrophe (in one memorable moment, a despondent polar bear is wheeled across the stage as Ward sings a stunning dirge). It reminds us not all family togetherness is happy, or even safe.
In a stunningly moving tribute to the children who have died from genocide and war, and later, the appearance of cardboard cut-outs of Trump, Elon Musk and Peter Dutton on stage as part of a transgressive nativity scene, the show also reminds us we are in a time of deep political and global unrest.
Toward the end of the show, Ward dedicates the performance to her brother, who, she explains, won’t be at Christmas this year. She sends love to all those for whom someone will be missing at their Christmas table.
You probably know someone who needs to see this show. It may even be you. I was grateful for the opportunity to experience the raucous solidarity of F Christmas with my fellow audience members, and to laugh and reflect as the silly season descends and the hectic pace of this time of the year takes over.
F Christmas is a joyous gift at the time of year when we need it most. I hope it becomes an annual Christmas tradition to provide a contrast to some of our more conservative traditions.
F Christmas is at Malthouse Theatre, Melbourne, until December 15.
Sarah Austin does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.
