The State of Grace is a piece of biographical theatre, much of it constructed from the words of the subject herself: Grace Bellavue.
Grace was a high-class sex-worker, based in Adelaide in South Australia. She talked about her work extensively on social media, and was an advocate for sex workers in their efforts to overturn often punitive legislation, and to shift the public perception of the sex work industry. Grace was also a prolific writer, and even wrote lyrics for hip-hop tracks. She also died, at the age of 28, as her mental health concerns became, for her, unbearable.
Bellavue’s personal effects included the rough drafts of much of her creative output, and some writings which had never been public. Many of them are presented here publicly for the first time, in a performance that takes us through much of Grace’s life, both public and private.
The framing device presented here is that creator/writer/performer Michaela Burger, has been sent boxes of Grace’s personal belongings by Lyn O’Sullivan, Grace’s mother, and asked to use them to tell Bellavue’s story.
What is told is a remarkable, and at times deeply uncomfortable story of a young woman trying to find her place in the world. Indeed, how very young Grace is, especially when she began her career in sex work, is often shocking. Her journey is also surprising, and will make you reconsider the stereotypes and cliches often associated with her work.
Burger is an obviously sympathetic narrator, who attempts to cram almost three decades’ worth of life into a 65 minute running time. Whilst some moments are delved into deeply, others could have been explored more. There’s a feeling that occasionally a gloss has been painted over some more uncomfortable moments A sexual assault is discussed without foreshadowing, and is moved on from quickly.
Despite the wealth of material, it’s still sometimes hard to get a grip on Grace. Her persona – Bellavue was a pseudonym – is one of a confident, outspoken ‘ball buster’, who doesn’t take any nonsense.
The truth behind the sheen appears to be more complex, but is perhaps underexplored in this piece. This is perhaps to be expected: Burger is presenting the Bellavue that the wider public were familiar with. But the glimpses we are shown of the girl behind the short skirts and sky-high heels seems to be as intriguing as that public persona was.
Bellavue’s mission was to get the public, and politicians, to confront their own hypocrisy about sex work and sex workers. By refusing to hide away in the shadows, Bellavue did attract attention, even if it’s unclear if she ever achieved any of the aims she was campaigning for.
Burger is outstanding. Grace is a complex character, and Burger paints the moments of lightness and darkness with equal conviction. That she is also operating some of the show’s technical aspects from the stage makes her performance even more impressive.
As with many pieces of theatre, this leaves you wanting to know more. Why is sex work still crimilaised to the extent that it is? Why are the trade unions formed by these women struggling to gain recognition? Why do governments feel entitled to tax these workers, but also refuse to provide them with any protections? Why is this oldest of professions treated with such disdain, when so many people engage with it, on so many different levels, and in so many different ways?
There are no easy answers, to any of these questions, or to the conundrum of Grace’s all too short life. The State of Grace is a memorial to that life, and also a celebration. In showing one person’s life and work, in an industry so frequently misunderstood, this production has the potential to force answers to often difficult questions. Highly recommended, if sometimes uncomfortable viewing.
Further information about the show can be found here
Featured Image Credit: Pedro Greig, via Michelle Mangan PR