Jon Bennett: Playing with Men

Running onto stage to a mixed response due to his Adelaide Crows football kit (‘this was really cheap this year for some reason’), Jon Bennett sets our expectations with a rapid-fire delivery of notes about the venue and what we’re going to be hearing from him over the next hour. He promises a visit from a possum (who duly turned up in the second half), people shouting over the fence behind us, and some embarrassing conversations. It is perhaps a fitting venue to be talking about the strange and ancient world of male sport culture in Australia.

Appointing a ‘captain’ to lead applause, Bennett dips into his past as a country boy, his friends at school, the dogs in his life, and his inevitable time in the local footy team. It’s here we learn about significant points in his life: when his friend turned 16; when the same friend turned 19. Then the fast-paced, robustness of his hilarious comedy suddenly sobers up, and we’re fumbling with Bennett trying to articulate his grief in a world where he’s repeatedly told ‘boys don’t cry’.

The comedy washes in and out over the serious undertones of toxic masculinity: mostly violence and refusing to deal with any emotions, with only anger allowed to be expressed. When he explains to us that a ‘funny’ story he told earlier, to which we responded with volumes of laughter, was basically sexual assault, the venue is silent. We’ve been complicit. It’s not done to shame us; more to point out that how we’re brought up has defined our values.

Bennett expertly engages us with his wit and self-deprecating charm, so this is a performance we enjoy and endure, together. It is successful in combining the release of a good laugh with a depth of meaning we must process afterwards.

Mark Wickett

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