“Coy possessing the ambiguity of Norm in a way that was subtle and sobering, Velu communicating his mistrust and his hope in a way that was eerie and heartbreaking“
“As a study of entrenched racism married with toxic masculinity, Norm and Ahmedwas well executed and entirely horrifying”
Christina Donoghue
4 / 5 stars
Missing the late bus and meeting a stranger at midnight at a suburban bus stop could be a benign event. Inconvenient, a little bit creepy, but part of the everyday. However, with the insertion of age, sex, gender or racial differences the pavement under the Parramatta skyline becomes a political space and the perfect setting in which to stage an act of racialised violence.
Late at night, Pakistani student, Ahmed (Rajan Velu) misses the bus. At the bus stop is Norm (Laurence Coy), a white Aussie male who blazes all the cultural signposts of the Great Aussie Bloke.
From the beginning the character choices by Laurence Coy overtly signal that Norm is not to be trusted. He is a liar and possesses a restrained violence that remains like an unrelieved catapult throughout the show. The character of Ahmed (Rajan Velu) mirrors so many young students in Australia, that carry a politeness and care that traces the foreignness of Australia and Australians when placed in proximity to Norm (Laurence Coy). Velu’s performance was fitting and restrained. Keeping Ahmed’s life private except for those few moments where his guard was let down, letting the audience peek into his passionate soul. Both actors, Coy and Velu, bounced off each other with precision. Coy possessing the ambiguity of Norm in a way that was subtle and sobering, Velu communicating his mistrust and his hope in a way that was eerie and heartbreaking. Aarne Neeme (Production Director) and Terence Clarke (Associate Director), have done what good directors do, in letting this piece be character driven, without the bells and whistles to distract you from the gut-wrenching scene before you.
The fact that this play, first written and produced by Alex Buzo in 1968, hasn’t dated, is horrifying. The dissection of the racial dynamic and subsequent violence in the space of the insecure Australian male is one that is played out here without any overt intervention by the writer (Alex Buzo). The greater impact felt was not through the relief of physical violence but it by therestrained violence and the tension that built over the length of the performance.
The white hand of friendship that was constantly offered only to be pulled back—every time was instructive. As an audience member you wanted the redemption of Norm (Laurence Coy). But you knew even if his penitence and good will was real, it was superseded by his ego and insecurity. Every character has redeemable qualities. But, every time Ahmed (Rajan Velu) was sucked in by Norm’s humanity and seemingly soft centre, he and the audience were punished for their hope in the irredeemable character.
As a Black woman who grew up in Western Sydney, I found this piece extremely hard to sit through. Even at its very short 60 minute duration this simple dramatic piece pushes its unassuming finger painfully close to the bone. I was traumatised.
To the playwright (Alex Buzo), in 2021, I would question what the impact giving Norm so much real estate within the script is and what affect that has in terms of not letting Ahmed develop too much in terms of character dimension, nuance and humanity. By the end of the play I know everything about Norm, I know very little about Ahmed. Perhaps there could be more space made for that kind of exposition, but as it is, the balance between character’s ‘time in the spotlight’ speaks to the pervasive man spread of the archetypal lower class Aussie White male. As a study of entrenched racism married with toxic masculinity, Norm and Ahmedwas well executed and entirely horrifying.
Christina Donoghue, Theatre Now
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