Walking into the Loading Dock Theatre at Qtopia to watch one of my highly anticipated shows, Saints of Damour, I did not expect to sit down next to director Anthony Skuse. Upon seeing my notebook, Skuse asked if I was taking notes and I unknowingly responded, “I am reviewing for Honi Soit”.
Marking Qtopia’s first entry into theatre production, Saints of Damour is a must-watch for anyone who enjoys theatre and, in particular, local productions. Written by playwright James Elazzi and produced by Nola Bartolo, we follow Pierre (Antony Makhlouf) and his mother Zeinab (Deborah Galanos), farmers from the coastal village of Damour, south of Beirut. One day, Pierre meets Samir (Saro Lepejian) when selling tomatoes at the Sunday markets.
The two engage in fun, flirty banter, slowly blossoming into late-night talks and private moments as we hear about rising tensions nationwide, namely the bus massacre in Ain El-Remmaneh, which by the dominant narrative is attributed to the beginning of the Lebanese Civil War.
For anyone with a Lebanese background, hearing specific historical and cultural references takes on a more amplified and visceral reaction. The setting of Damour is sufficient to conjure up memories and knowledge of the 1976 massacres, even if mentioned in passing.
Pierre reluctantly marries Layla, played by Nicole Chamoun, to pay off a debt left by his father and to satisfy his mother after she finds out about Samir. However, he does so on the condition that Samir moves with him, his wife, and his mother to Australia. Tragedy strikes and due to the unfolding massacres, everyone escapes unscathed except for Samir, who is caught in the crossfires and killed.
The family settle in rural Goondiwindi, Queensland, and grapple with the pressure to assimilate amidst racism and alienation, with Pierre’s mother Zeinab remarking that “we left one war to start another”. However, she argues that “war destroyed our life in Lebanon for a reason… war was a gift”. She remains insistent on forgetting the tragedies in Damour and tries to force everyone around her to move on, as she does by ignoring the fact that her son is gay and suffering under the shackles of heteronormativity.
“Just wait until Act 3”, is what I overheard playwright Elazzi tell audience members during the intermission. And so we waited. The characters have now moved to Sydney, and it is the 1980s.
It was during this part of the play that I had an epiphany: Saints of Damour is a (loose) Lebanese-Australian version of Angels in America: A Gay Fantasia on National Themes by Tony Kushner. Having studied this play earlier this year, this was a most welcome surprise. Whether or not this was intentional, it enhanced my viewing experience.
Max Cattana, a member of the ensemble who is seen moving props across the stage, later appears as Pierre’s lover Todd, who he meets at a nightclub. Pierre begins to embrace the nightlife, casually hooking up with men and taking drugs to numb the pain.
The staging was simple but so powerful in that actors often not present in the scene were sat on stage or on the steps besides the audience, spectating with them.
One of the first intimate moments between Pierre and Samir involves the two of them eating tomatoes out of each other’s hands, and Pierre cleans Samir’s welders hands with ripe tomato juice. Facilitated with the assistance of intimacy coordinators Shondelle Pratt and Trish Speers, the intimacy and chemistry between the two feels natural and earned, never rushed.
At times, Samir was the third person in the scene. At times, it was Layla. It was also Zeinab and Todd. But most importantly, it was us.
James Smithers’ production design and Sam Wylie’s lighting deliver on the moody and stripped back atmosphere, allowing the script and performances to shine. The costumes are beautifully assembled, and successfully delineate the time periods of the 1970s and 1980s. They also allow the actors to express their state of mind and sexuality, while freely moving across the space.
Maissa Alameddine’s Arabic vocals accompany a compelling sound design by Akesiu Poitaha as well as the use of compositions from Eleni Karaindrou’s soundtrack for the film, The Weeping Meadow (2004).
The use of accents was interesting as when the characters were in Lebanon and Goondiwindi they spoke in an Australian accent, but in the world of the play they are speaking Arabic to each other. When they spoke to Australian characters, they spoke with a quote unquote stereotypical Lebanese accent to emphasise how they are perceived by others.
Antony Makhlouf is immensely affecting as Pierre, anchoring the entire show amidst the ebb and flow of hardship. Pierre’s journey is a gut-punch, and Makhlouf occupies each scene with power and vulnerability at the same time. In other words, his body language speaks just as loud as words.
Saro Lepejian as Samir thrives on stage, especially when he is a silent observer, a ghost of Pierre’s past. He haunts but he also provides comfort, and Lepejian is able to do a lot despite the limited character development and dialogue he is given in the latter half of the play.
Nicole Chamoun is magnetic and is without a doubt the scene-stealer, both in the comedic and tragic moments. You never pity her as you see her rebuild her life slowly but surely. Her quieter moments were just as strong as her louder ones, and while she retains her wise-cracking and sarcastic self, Chamoun imbues Layla with a resonant emotional maturity.
Max Cattana as Todd makes a lasting impression on both Pierre and the audience. In particular, his conversation with Layla where she tells him to find someone who can love him was memorable. However, like Lepejian as Samir, Cattana has less material to play with. As for Deborah Galanos, her performance as the matriarch is pitch-perfect. Zeinab felt like a person I would know or come across in a Lebanese neighbourhood, both in her rounder and softer edges. At one point, when Galanos let out a guttural scream, I got the chills — “bloody oath!”
This tale of migration, love, and loss, the grief of who you could have been and losing who could have been your one and only home, left me feeling a cacophony of emotions, but mainly defeat. As I began to walk away from the streets of Darlinghurst, I pressed play on the track Strangers by Halsey and Lauren Jauregui. Because isn’t that what we all are? Lovers masquerading as strangers.
Saints of Damour is running until April 6, at Qtopia.
