Written by Suzie Miller. Griffin Theatre Company. 7 Jul – 19 Aug, 2023.
Playwright Suzie Miller has crammed a lot into 80 minutes with Jailbaby, her third new play staged in two years (after Anna K and RBG: Of Many, One last year). The story of AJ, a cocky youth who gets thrown into the prison system, while juxtaposing him with Seth, a privileged boy whose misdemeanours get brushed off by the law.
AJ (Anthony Yangoyan) needs money to pay for his soccer camp, his chance to be spotted and begin a sporting career. To raise the cash, he agrees to be the look out for others as they rob the wealthy Rawlins family. But on the night, he gets drawn into the house to help collect the loot, running into a frightened Mrs Rawlins (Lucia Mastrantone) without a mask to hide his face. He mutters ‘sorry’ as they rush out the door, but that moment of recognition leads to him being picked up by the police and forced to navigate the prison system on his own. His brash demeanour is torn apart as he is raped and dehumanised. Meanwhile, Seth Rawlins (also played by Yangoyan), the son of the Rawlins household AJ stole from, is dealing drugs at school…
Jailbaby contains 14 characters, played by three excellent actors (Yangoyan & Mastrantone are joined by Anthony Taufa), across a tight 80 minutes. It throws you into scenes and leaps outs of them again at a breakneck pace. As an audience you are as bewildered as AJ is much of the time. Having just turned 18 he’s still very much a child. He doesn’t comprehend the weight of what is happening despite his legal counsel’s insistent explanation. AJ just wants to know if he’ll be out in time to go to his soccer camp.
Many critics have said the play is about jail rape, which is a serious plot thread, but not the central narrative. The rape is another, graphic example of AJ’s powerlessness and the shocking demolition of his sense of self. What Miller does well is highlight the many ‘Catch 22’ moments in the legal and prison system where good intentions meet limited resources. AJ has the chance to give evidence implicating others to save his own skin but there is no guarantee he won’t be making things worse for himself. As a character study of one youths descent into violence and rage, it packs a punch.
AJs story is thrown into contrast with that of Seth Rawlins, the pampered problem child of the wealthy Rawlins family. Potentially on the spectrum, Seth has trouble making friends, preferring to play computer games. His parents are at the end of their tether, shelling out money on psychologists and private schools to try to give their son the best. But where you get the sense that AJ is genuinely sorry for his actions, Seth has no concept of others, only his own desires. He’s happy to deal drugs to schoolmates to raise money for his own, secret trip away, but his run-ins with authority are papered over by sizable donations to the school and sweet-talking the police.
The comparison of the two children is not subtle, or particularly revelatory, and the lack of interest in Seth’s storyline suggest that the production team didn’t put a lot of faith in it either. We’re very much in AJ’s world, Seth is just a side story, one that eats up stage time that could have delved more deeply into AJ.
Jailbaby is a very different type of story to some of Miller’s recent works and lacks some of their clarity, but watching these three actors really strut their stuff is a joy – what a challenge and gift to performers to switch roles with just a flick of the lighting. It’s heavy material that offers no easy solutions or cathartic monologues but begs us to approach people with a bit more understanding.
Cultural Binge 
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