KINDER *****

A performer is on stage as we enter the space, scurrying from one container to another. Newly arrived drag artist Goody Prostate (Ryan Stewart) has belatedly been asked to headline the local library’s reading hour. They will be reading to children and their parents. However, these are dark, fractured, times: word has spread that a drag artist is going to read to children, and the authorities expect the worst. It seems very likely that there will be an unruly reception committee outside.

Goody needs to create a reading and be sharp about it. However, they are clearly troubled by the implicit threat of the unpleasant crowd, and the deeper societal implications.

Over the course of a ry presentation’s production of KINDER (the German word for children), while ostensibly grappling with planning the looming difficult gig, the show shines a light on Goody’s own childhood and their perspective on society.

Their parents separated: while Goody is touchingly reminiscent about their mother, their father was occasionally violent, despite which they appear to have some fond memories of ‘papa’. But it seems to be the nagging sense of displacement, heightened by the imminent protests, that drive Goody’s examination of what it means to be a child, tolerance, family and gender. They present a fascinating examination of etymology and discussion around Magnus Hirschfeld, LGBTQ+ pioneer and activist.

It’s not just about the parents: children have myriad influences during their formative years – teachers, doctors, entertainers. Should they be shielded from discussions about gender and sexual orientation?

But this the era of intolerance and division. The ‘anti-woke’ lobby is emboldened. Trump has embarked upon Stalin-style purges. Censorship is taking hold. Books are banned, jarring the sensibilities of a performer with German roots. Within this context, what exactly should Goody be reading to the children?

Ryan Stewart’s performance is a triumph. Their movement is slick, fluid and choreographed to perfection. Their comic timing punctuates the proceedings, and those moments of stillness - thoughts being found - were electric. The production is visually delightful; despite the show being predominantly an internal monologue, it constantly moves. Much credit to director Tiah Bullock.

On the one hand, they are a confident, gregarious, agile and flamboyant performer. But yet, it is Stewart’s introspection, self-doubt, and especially vulnerability that will live long in the memory.