THEATRE REVIEW: Ice Land is a didactic, glaring glimpse into the neglected methamphetamine crisis on our doorstep
I’m going to say it: Yirra Yaakin’s World Premiere of Ice Land was the most gripping production I have had the privilege to review all year. It was confronting, transfixing and gut wrenching all at once. Above all, with an exponentially worsening methamphetamine crisis plaguing Perth streets continually, it was very, very needed.
Ice Land is a ‘hip h’opera’, something of a fusion of the operatic format—where all dialogue sung—and the hip hop genre, described by director Kyle J Morrison as what he believed was ‘the art form that (could) represent a wide range of our community’ to ‘tell a story that speaks for our growing, diverse and isolated metropolis’. It tells the story of three individuals: Joy (Layla ‘Layla’ Hanbury), a mother who has turned to dealing meth to support herself and her child, Carly (Moana ‘Moana Mayatrix’ Lutton), whose brother’s meth addiction has led to catastrophic violence, and Cole (Benjamin ‘Beni Bjah’ Hasler), who has turned to meth to deal with childhood trauma.
These are the victims of society that most privileged circles address in one of two ways. The destitute are either ignored completely or ogled at; marvelled upon as something of a delinquent spectacle. Ice Land conveys both sides of the coin as it delves into the backstories of these characters as they are courted and haunted by the personified demon of meth (Scott Griffths). Time will only tell as to if they can escape the grip of addiction—and ultimately death.
Watching Ice Land, I was continually taken aback by the quality of—well—everything. The cast was one of the most talented I’ve seen gracing a stage in recent memory, owing to each of their own established and successful music careers (I am very interested to give them a listen in the upcoming weeks).
Each-and-every track was on point in terms of beat and lyricism, cutting hard and exposing truths about the inner lives of the characters, the pitfalls in the community and collective actions of society that form a part of the complex and tangled mess of meth on our streets. The set design was fitting, almost circus-like. It was, above all, claustrophobic and isolated – a reminder of the way we shut the destitute out of ordinary view by all too often reducing their plight to a spectacle.
Ice Land is confronting; it sticks in your mind long after you leave the theatre. And so it should. It is a reminder that, unlike your ordinary art spectacle, this problem will not just go away when our attention is diverted. So much more needs to be done to raise awareness of the meth crisis here in Perth amongst the youth, and to call on those in positions of power to do better for the marginalised. It is the sort of play everyone should see, not merely for the sake of magnificent art, but because awareness is the only hope for bringing about change that is urgently needed.
