There is weight upon the broad shoulders of the man whose back is turned to us as we enter the theatre.  Inside an ash circle on the ground, his shadow cuts the line in places and its roundness is incomplete.  As the house lights fade, a recognizability of voices fills the space.  Howard, Hanson, Gillard and Rudd.  Behind these is an angry, hurt, betrayed indistinguishable rumble.  The man stoops slightly more until, from the smoke, a ring gradually grows on the screen behind him.  Imperfect, hand drawn, it changes thickness on its endless hoop and he is energised by its definition as it becomes clearer.

This is Noongar man, Ian Michael and he is not one man. Vibrant, engaging and with a wide and welcoming physicality and smile, in direct address, he describes the smell of the shearing shed before inviting us to hear the stories of the Stolen.  “You may not hear individual voices,” he explains.  There may be similarities and there may be contradictions.  The invitation is to “listen and remember”.

Thus begins an extraordinary work of compelling verbatim.  A story of loss, yes, but a story of men.  Men rarely heard with truth on the Australian stage.

The production by She Said Theatre is superbly created.  Evocation is everywhere.  From words that cut like ‘institution’ and ‘compound’ and ‘The Welfare’ through the perfectly placed audio and haunting music, to the judicious use of images on the screen, the work is a distillation.  The images, especially the early ones, shame and foreground government and individuals in their reflections of cultural imposition.  The lighting is used effectively as it dims with memory.  Warming or washing with a  steely chilling, the emotion of the telling is visible. The audio is technically excellent and chosen with care for theme and impact.  ‘Amazing Grace’ in native language chills and warms in equal measure.  Similarly, the dialogue heartbreakingly aches with loss.

There is a purity in the manifest experience of these men and Michael, not just one , shares with power, clarity and carry.  He will hunch down, front foot flat, earth-bound, while the rear foot poses on toes ready for flight.   He is often bodily shaped in the manner of a dancer, delicate footsteps in the white ochre as he remakes the circle into body paint and tossed earth.  Artistically pinpoint is his lucidity of projection and the generosity of his guidance exposes us to events we know of, yet maybe do not know.   As the testimonials are shared, his performance flares insight and contributes depth and humanity to topic too easily thought of as political in nature.

HART is an hour.  Time to reflect to listen and to remember long after.

HART played one day only at Casula Powerhouse Arts Centre but you can find out more at She Said Theatre’s website and Facebook.