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Written by Tommy Murphy. Belvoir St Theatre. 9 Mar – 14 Apr, 2024.

It’s hard to overstate the importance of Tim Conigrave’s memoir Holding The Man in the Australian gay zeitgeist. When it was released in 1995, it became a surrogate for the stories of thousands of gay men who grew up in the Aussie suburbs and battled ignorance to find liberation and love, before a generation of men were cut down by the Aids epidemic. Belvoir’s revival of the theatre adaptation by Tommy Murphy channels the feel of Australia’s 70s, 80s and 90s to tell the tale once more.

In highschool, young Tim (Tom Conroy) can’t stop thinking about John Caleo (Danny Ball), the handsome Italian-Australian sport-star in his school. When he finally summons the courage to talk to him the two start an uneasy friendship till one night, playing a party game, they kiss and sparks fly. What follows is a classic love story of parental disapproval, young lovers growing together and apart, and overcoming adversity as a pair. Until Act Two when they face the reality of HIV. 

Things have changed a lot for gay men since the 70s, 80s and 90s, and now that Holding The Man is firmly a period piece it has become a different beast than it was originally. It’s still a heartfelt tribute to John Caleo. His innocence and devotion are untainted by the events happening around and to him. But in the 2020s, Holding The Man is less “Australia’s Big Aids Play” and more of a character study of Conigrave, a flawed gay man trying to figure out what being gay means without any role models. Conigrave paints a saintly portrait of his lover while denigrating himself constantly.

As the age-old gay dilemma of monogamy vs open-relationships rears its head, Caleo has no desire for anyone other than his partner, while Conigrave is keen to explore all aspects of his sexuality. It’s here that Tim becomes an often unlikable narrator, his blunt honesty and lack of regard for others feels like a rough confessional from a writer dealing with his own sense of guilt. It makes for a fascinating character. But moving the spotlight firmly onto Conigrave has the negative effect of sidelining the warm and sweet Caleo, who is off-stage for large chunks of the story. His absence is keenly felt.

I’ll be honest, the delay in posting this review has been because when I saw it on opening night I was… disappointed. There was a large shadow looming over this production of Holding The Man. It wasn’t HIV or Aids. It was The Master & Margarita, Belvoir’s barnstorming hit from the end of 2023, also directed by Eamon Flack. It had built a sense of expectation in me that wasn’t satisfied by what I saw. But as I wrote the review I realised I’d fallen into the trap of judging the production for what I wanted it to be, rather than judging it for what it actually was. Holding The Man is dear to me. I can’t remember how many copies of the original book I’ve given away over the years, or how many times I re-read it. My heart wanted this play reach the ecstatic heights of The Master & Margarita.

So I went back to see it again. 

Grabbing a ticket at the last minute, I watched from the onstage seating. Suddenly, the show came alive for me. Without the burden of my expectations, plus a much more intimate view, all of the emotions I didn’t feel the first time came flooding in. My experience of the show was very, very different.

Conroy’s Conigrave is… okay to be honest he’s a bit of a dick, but an engaging one. In comparison Ball’s childlike Caleo is instantly adorable. Their relationship makes sense, the “good boy” Caleo attracted to the wild Conigrave. When you realise how young they both were when they died, it hits hard. Far too young to be taken by Aids, their whole lives were ahead of them.

Even after the second viewing, some of my initial criticism’s still remain, John’s final scene includes a needlessly distracting piece of staging (I’m trying not to spoil some of the bigger moments). Spreading out the “circle jerk” scene means the audience is whipping their head around like a game of tennis.

But the elements I liked became even better. Guy Simon is the shows MVP, for the pitch perfect tone of his multiple roles, especially Juliet’s mother (I want her costume and her hair), and Peter, John and Tim’s friend. Up close I could see the smaller bit of tenderness between John and Tim that I’d missed the first time, without which their relationship felt cold. The magic of their early love hits the mark.

The return of Holding The Man to Belvoir is a chance to look back on how far we’ve come and think about whether we’ve come far enough. Book a ticket, as close to the stage as you can, and soak it all in.