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Written by Ellen van Neerven. World Premiere. Griffin Theatre Company. Carriageworks. 10-27 Jul, 2024.

In Ellen van Neerven’s poetic swim everything is fluid. Memory, emotion and, of course, water. For our protagonist E (Dani Sib) the most fluid thing of all is their sense of self.

E is/was a swimmer. Their earliest memories are of water, playing in a river as a child, or taking swimming lessons from a professional but after an abusive relationship she hasn’t been back in the water for a while. Now, as a non-binary adult returning to the pool for the first time, they’re faced with a choice – to use the ‘Male’ or ‘Female’ changing room. 

On paper, swim appears to be a play about gender, but it’s not really – at least, not exclusively. Gender is integral to the story, but not the true backbone of the narrative. This is an exploration of one human’s ability to overcome abuse and find their identity again. 

As a youth, E was groomed and abused by their swimming coach. The relationship turned emotionally manipulative and physically violent, souring E’s relationship with the water they loved. Now E finds the public pool to be a confronting place. But once they’re out in the lanes – life makes more sense and E can unpack their circumstances and rebuild their confidence.

Swim is an intersectional story, blending E’s gender, Indigenous heritage and story of abuse into one singular, flawed and fascinating character. It’s more about the specifics than the universal which makes this near-monologue (I’ll get to the brilliant secondary characters in a moment) a compelling journey. There are familiar elements examined from newer angles and the whole becomes something more quixotic and interesting than the parts.

Dani Sib embodies E’s strength and anxiety in their tightly held body. As a character, E is a convergence of multiple fears – do the white women in the changing rooms avoid E because they are Blak, or because they are non-binary? Can one be separated from the other? Things are more fun when E hits the pool, the world they know best, and revels in the hierarchy and diversity of the lanes and the mindfulness of the rhythms… swim, touch the wall, turn – swim, touch the wall, turn… In this space, E can rediscover their own power.

Director Andrea James, with the whole team of Romanie Harper (designer), Karen Norris (lighting), Brendon Boney (composer & sound) and Samuel James (video), has produced a handsomely immersive space to tell this story. The tiled surfaces of the pool transform into countryside vistas, underwater worlds and abstract mind-spaces with elegant ease. The unnerving slight opening of a door does more to convey E’s personal fear than their own words allow. Similarly a fun twist on a costume tells us everything we need to know about co-star Sandy Greenwood’s multiple roles.

Ah yes, and now we get to Sandy Greenwood, the absolute MVP of the show. Almost always on the fringes of the stage, Greenwood plays a trio of very different roles. As E’s Aunty she is a warm, playfully parental figure of support. As E’s abuser she menaces the top of the stage in all black. But as Samena, the pool’s hilariously flirty young life guard, she is the cherry on top of this cake. It’s a moment of near-drag-excess and so perfectly timed it is a work of art. From the wiggle of her booty as she mops the changing rooms, to the well-timed placement of a “slippery when wet” sign – just genius.

At just over an hour in duration, I definitely felt like there was more story to tell, and more exploration/resolution that could have been given to the many threads at play. But swim keeps things personal and this is E’s story to tell. When they’re finished, and have found their happiness, who am I to cry for more?