Jose Da Costa in Hello My Name Is.. |
HELLO MY NAME IS…
Using Text by Edward Bond from Choruses After The Assassinations. Directed by Paulo Castro. Nexus Arts. OzAsia Festival November 7 – 9. 2018. Bookings: www.ozasiafestival.com.au.
Reviewed by Peter Wilkins.
The voiceover is heard through the
darkness. “This performance is dedicated to the victims of the massacres in
East Timor” Actor Jose da Costa enters slowly, dressed in fatigues and bearing
a cross which he lays in the middle of the stage. He sinks to the floor , a
victim of appalling atrocities carried out against the people of Timor Leste by
the brutal soldiers of the Indonesian Army, ahead of a proposed United Nations
delegation to Timor Leste. The delegation never arrived and the army pursued
its horrific genocide. HELLO MY NAME IS… is one soldier’s account of the
violence perpetrated against his people prior to independence. as nations vied
for geopoliticial control and economic exploitation of East Timor’s natural
offshore oil deposits. It is a story of international abuse and shameful
neglect by the UN and the global community.
Da Costa slowly rises from the
floor and draws a yellow police tape across the front of the stage, warning
people that this is a crime scene, before tearing it apart and assuming the
character of the Indonesian army officer, armed and cruel, lifting a skull
while pointing a gun at the head. Throughout, Edward Bond’s poetic imagery
paints scenes of horror, of slaughter and skeletons discarded and children denied education and life’s
opportunity. It is a portrait of a country raped by political oppression and
economic exploitation. It is a portrait of monstrous motives and ineffectual
opposition.
The scene shifts to the
International Political Conference. as Da Costa moves the tables into position
and places the names upon the table. In an ironic moment of grim humour, Da
Costa pours champagne and clinks the glasses of the Indonesian Foreign
Minister, Ali Alatar and Australia’s Gareth Evans. The soldier stands before
them, a letter from the obedient citizens to remind the powers that be that their moral duty is not to get rid of the bombs
but to change society. It is the cry for justice that falls upon deaf ears
and, slowly donning a skeleton suit Da Costa sinks to the grave beside the
cross. It is a gesture of defeat, of hopelessness against the politicians, the United Nations, the Indonesians and the Portuguese.
The power of Da Costa’s
performance is in its authenticity. There is no theatrical artifice to the
truth of his actions. It is the thoroughly convincing expression of actual
experience. As such the issue is shamefully clear., the responsibility
poignantly and powerfully apparent. His is the voice of the oppressed speaking
on behalf of those who have become enveloped in the cycle of the dead at the
end of time. It is the cry of all indigenous victims of all races and all lands,
crying from the graves of the nameless to be named and justice to be served.