The comedy of bureaucracy
Instead of becoming frustrated, Irish comic Sonya Kelly turned her immigration woes into a show – which now, ironically, tours the world. Ahead of her NZ performances, she talks to
Alan Perrott.
There’s a curious irony in travelling the world with a show about the mind-bending roadblocks put in the way of immigration.
Not to mention that it’s also a declaration of love to a woman she hardly gets to see because her damn play has proved so successful.
And did I mention it’s a comedy? One that makes a habit of leaving the audience applauding while wiping away tears?
‘‘Don’t worry though, they are happy tears,’’says Sonya Kelly.
Be assured her play How To Keep An Alien is ‘‘a proper exuberant comedy’’.
It can’t hurt that what with the ongoing refugee crisis, President Trump, and the growing acceptance of same-sex marriage, her timing is also nigh on perfect.
We get to see the show for ourselves at next month’s Auckland Arts Festival, where it plays from March 22-26.
How To Keep An Alien is the tale of how Kelly’s life was changed by an encounter with Kate, an Australian stage manager, on the set of a Russian play being staged in an Irish castle.
Oh, it was love at first sight, etc and so on, but the thorn that led to the show’s creation was Kate’s soon-toexpire work visa.
With an extension dependent on securing an annual income of at least $89,000 – which wasn’t going to happen – their hopes rested on a ‘‘de facto’’ relationship visa, a two-year process of collecting evidence of your sexy times. That was everything and anything from tax receipts, to diaries, to photographs, to testimonies – which is then handed to a paper pusher you’ve never met who applies 27 different rules and regulations before deciding whether you’re really in love or not.
That’s got to be a torture worth poking fun at. ‘‘It’s just the most ridiculous barrier, isn’t it?’’ says Kelly.
‘‘We should have been enjoying that honeymoon period and instead we had to wait for that reality of our relationship to be officially quantified.
‘‘I quickly became politicised because of it, too. I’d be standing at a window asking for some form I never thought I’d ever need in my life and there would be all these other people, people from all over the world, who were trying to get partners into Ireland as well.
‘‘It was an awakening … we invent all these means of travelling the world and then we put all these barriers in the way of those who try to use them.’’
At the same Ireland was struggling through a same-sex marriage debate which, because it impacted on their constitution, had to be decided by referendum.
Now, it wasn’t like the happy couple was gagging for a marriage, but still: ‘‘There’s an extraordinary indignity in coming home, turning on the telly and watching people arguing about my ‘Kate and I are watching Australia now, and [same-sex marriage is] part of why I’m looking forward to coming to New Zealand, it’s not just that I’ve never travelled that far, but you led the world on this one.’ rights. ‘‘That was a very difficult thing to go through, but I am so proud of what we did, that a tiny Catholic country can do the right thing … so Kate and I are watching Australia now, and it’s part of why I’m looking forward to coming to New Zealand, it’s not just that I’ve never travelled that far, but you led the world on this one.’’
No, talking to Kelly doesn’t conform to how talking to a comedian pitching a show usually goes.
But then she’s always shunned conformity, a fate she avoided with the help of her grandfather, satirical cartoonist Charles Kelly, and her much-loved uncle, Frank Kelly (who died last February and is best known for playing the squalid priest, Father Jack Hackett, in Father Ted).
‘‘He was just so cool, with such interesting opinions and, of course, he had this huge cachet in Ireland. He was such a big influence on me, I felt drawn to acting and the acting world.’’
She ended up studying drama at Trinity College while appearing in all manner of theatrical productions.
Somehow though it wasn’t enough, Kelly didn’t want to spend a career reading other people’s thoughts, she wanted to make a difference.
Then, for reasons she still doesn’t understand, she decided to have a crack at the UK Funny Women Awards in London.
Kelly won her heat and then her semifinal before dizzily climbing on stage at the famed Comedy Store where ‘‘I died on my a... … comedy was something I got into by accident and been swept away by, really, it was only naivety pulling me through. I actually had to learn the craft.’’
Her solution was to incorporate some of her dramatic skills and talk about what she knew best; herself.
Her first self-written show was The Wheelchair On My Face, the story of her undiagnosed myopia which won a Fringe Award at Edinburgh and set the template for her current endeavour. Wherever it played, someone would ask her perform it somewhere else.
The same process is why, after two years, How To Keep An Alien has pulled up here, although Kelly suspects New Zealand will be its last stop. Maybe.
If there’s been a surprise along the way it’s come from the gay community.
‘‘I’m asked a lot why I don’t use the word gay in the play, is it a deliberate ploy to avoid offending anyone?
‘‘It isn’t in the marketing copy either, but actually it’s just an accident, a really lovely accident. Because I’ve ended up creating a gay narrative that isn’t centred around overcoming prejudice.
‘‘The fact we are gay is by and by and I think it’s worth celebrating that in 2017 a story like ours is evolving into non-ness, it’s just love … but in saying that I was cornered by a drunk woman after one show in Ireland. She was pretty angry: ‘We should have been warned…’ ‘‘ ‘About what?’’’ ‘‘ ‘You know what I mean, we should have been warned’.
‘‘ ‘Well, all I can say is that you have been now’.’’
While she’s at it, Kate could have done with a warning too.
‘‘Yes, she likes to tell me that it’s all very well to trot around the world saying how much I love her, but she’s the one stuck at home eating meal-forone.’’
is at the Loft, Q Theatre, as part of the Auckland Arts Festival from March 22-26; at Lake Wanaka Centre, as part of the Wanaka Festival of Colour, April 5-6, and at the Upsurge Festival in Kerikeri on April 9.
How To Keep An Alien,