BY JASMINE MIDDLETON
Just in time for Halloween, Ben Grant is set to premiere his unique “electrOpera” The Rug tackling an especially frightening subject: Australian middle-class white-male privilege.
Created and performed by Ben, this one-man show delves deep into the psyche of contemporary Australia through a shattered lens. Combining elements of opera and electronic composition, he hopes to examine the multilayered issue from the eye of the storm – and with a healthy dose of dark comedy, horror, and a good old-fashioned bloodbath.
We chat to Ben about the vision behind the eccentric, hard-hitting production.
What prompted you to undertake this project, Ben?
Back in early 2015, a young relative of mine was flirting with alt-right politics. They felt they weren’t allowed to express their culture, and that migration was changing the Australia of their childhood – they were only in their teens!
I felt driven to make a work that respectfully addressed the issues they were grappling with – acknowledging the hurt, fear, confusion, and anger felt by some Anglo-cis-gendered Australian men who can cause such damage to our community – but ultimately debunking the issue in an entertaining way.
Was The Rug always intended to be a horror story?
No. But, as a fan of the genre, once I had an angry man feeling threatened, the story quickly turned grisly.
Take us inside the mind of your character that centres the opera: the angry, cis-gendered white man.
At first, he is loud and proud, swelling to sing of his heritage and history. But when his privileged position is threatened, the dank interior of his mind turns to thoughts of bloody vengeance.
How has the invention of your “electrOpera” genre given you the musical and dramatic tools to convey your ideas?
I think it might have been the other way around. The musical and dramatic tools that the story of The Rug drew me to – forced me to – come up with the idea of an electrOpera.
I felt that to write convincingly about Australian middle-class white-male privilege, I had to interrogate my own privilege. Opera revealed itself as a tool I could use to reflect that. While I know opera’s heritage is as an artform of the people, within contemporary Australia, what says white privilege more?
Also, my loud, proud protagonist loves being listened to on an operatic scale. Unfortunately for him, he’s no Bryn Terfel. More like a drunk uncle having a go at singing Danny Boy on Christmas afternoon.
Although I’m using opera as a lens to view my protagonist’s story, and The Rug is sung acoustically in the performance space, I don’t consider myself qualified to write or sing traditional opera. I haven’t had the training or experience.
I am a performer, composer, and sound designer; but opera brings with it such daunting conceptual and technical heights, and rock opera just felt wrong. So, I struck on the idea of an electrOpera to say two things: the score is completely electronic; and, while striving toward an operatic sensibility in the work, I would only place The Rug as an offering at the feet of past or current masters of the form.
Why do you believe it’s important to tackle such a controversial topic through art?
As a middle-class, white, cis-gendered Australian male, what else should I grapple with?
How do you hope the audience will respond to the production?
I hope they will enjoy the ride.
See The Rug at La Mama Courthouse, Carlton, October 31-November 11.
Shout the writer a coffee?
No amount is too much or little. Thanks for supporting Jasmine as she volunteers her time for Australian arts journalism.
Pay what you like through PayPal. 80 per cent of your contribution will go to the writer who composed this piece, and 20 per cent to our volunteer editor for getting this show on the road. (You don’t *actually* have to take them out for a coffee.) We protect your personal information.
Images supplied. Credit: Mathilde Brodick.
