There’s nothing quite like the casual chaos of a sharehouse filled with twenty-somethings. A temperamental whirlwind of excitement, fear, uncertainty and newfound freedom sweeps through the poorly-plastered halls. Spontaneous parties, a dubious division of chores and probably some suspicious black mould somewhere. Everyone is barely an adult, and you’re still cute enough to (hopefully) get away with some pretty dumb decisions. 

I Promise This Isn’t About You (Even If It Feels Like It Is). Photo © Jaimi Houston

A story that unravels entirely in a sharehouse bathroom over the course of a tumultuous end-of-lease party, I Promise This Isn’t About You (Even If It Feels Like It Is) perfectly captures the audacity, messiness and unrelenting melancholy of young adulthood. Mind the spew. And take that drunk girl’s tarot-reading with a grain of salt. 

Wrapped up in a subtly Naarm-coded branch of the queer experience, this is an exciting new offering from some of Melbourne’s most exciting up-and-coming theatremakers. Plus, it’s inventively staged in a real graffiti-covered carpark, to boot. (Seriously, the entire production must be packed down after each performance to make way for cars to use the space during the day.)

At the centre of all the drama is Max (Mads Lou). The prospect of moving out of his first grown-up home is stressful enough, never mind the growing tensions between his loveable-yet-unreliable best mate, Luce (Reuby Chip); his sweet but borderline overbearing partner, Henry (Jo Jabalde); the recently dumped blow-in, Indie (Eliza Carlin); and gate-grashing little sister, Sav (Ally Long).

I Promise This Isn’t About You (Even If It Feels Like It Is). Photo © Jaimi Houston

Emerging playwright Sarah Matthews tempers nostalgia and high drama with rawness, emotional honesty and unexpected moments of laugh-out-loud hilarity. (“Oi! Dickhead! Stop munting in my agapanthus!” is a line that you won’t soon forget!) 

There’s a strong cast here too, and under Carly Watson’s direction, these actors are able to meet the authenticity of Matthew’s script, delivering some of the most convincing, naturalistic dialogue you’ll see on any stage (and not just open-air, concrete stages). 

Early-adult angst aside, this script gifts us small but tangible representations of experiences that are rarely done justice – like the powerful all-consumingness of platonic love, authentic and messy queer relationships, and trans and gender-diverse characters who don’t need to explain their identities. 

Embracing the messy, non-linear nature of life from start to end, this play has the potential to leave you a little bewildered, and very seen. And, if you’re anything like me (a queer on the other side of thirty) it might even inspire you to reclaim some of the passion and spontaneity of your twenties – ideally with less drama, and more medication.

With strong performances, emotional gut-punches, literal toilet humour, an unconventional location (with a functional shower head!) and a killer soundtrack packed with local bands, I Promise This Isn’t About You is the ultimate fringe festival experience (and I mean that in the best possible way). 

I Promise This Isn’t About You (Even If It Feels Like It Is) is playing at the Melbourne Fringe Festival Hub, Trades Hall – The Carpark, until 16 October. More information here.