Gill Heal has left the theatre but a touch of magic remains. Gill with the cast of her 2015 production, Stormy Waters, from left, Peter Gilbert, Tanya Jackson, Stanley McGeagh and John Coldebella.
By Catherine Watson
“WHO’D be interested in my bloody story!”
The old woman standing at the front door looked at Gill Heal sceptically. Still, she invited Gill in, made her a cup of tea and allowed her to turn on her tape recorder.
Six months later she was in the audience to see the premiere of Stories of the Hinterland at the Archies Creek pub.
“WHO’D be interested in my bloody story!”
The old woman standing at the front door looked at Gill Heal sceptically. Still, she invited Gill in, made her a cup of tea and allowed her to turn on her tape recorder.
Six months later she was in the audience to see the premiere of Stories of the Hinterland at the Archies Creek pub.
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No one really knew what to expect at that first show. It wasn’t a play. There was no acting as such. The cast sat on bar stools and conversed. Conversations were interwoven with home-grown verse and songs. But it wasn’t a musical. What the hell was it?
At the end, there was a moment of silence. Everyone held their breath … before rapturous and emotional applause from locals transfixed by seeing their own lives transformed into theatre. In the audience that sceptical woman was overcome. Tears rolled down her face. “This is history!” she said. “This is important!” |
Gill Heal died on January 11 in Wonthaggi. As an actor and director, she valued entrances and exits. After a rich life, she was ready to exit. Please join us to celebrate Gill’s life at The Shed, State Coal Mine, Wonthaggi at 3pm on Monday, January 19. |
Community elders and behind them the actors who played their parts in Stories of the Hinterland:
from left, Mary Mabin (Karen Milkins-Hendry), Alma McKenzie (Renee Beasley) and Joyce Chisholm (Sophie Cuttriss). January 2004.
from left, Mary Mabin (Karen Milkins-Hendry), Alma McKenzie (Renee Beasley) and Joyce Chisholm (Sophie Cuttriss). January 2004.
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Gill came into our lives like a whirlwind. I first met her in 2003. I’d just come to live in Wonthaggi full time. Gill had arrived the previous year under a State Government program aimed at socially and economically disadvantaged shires and towns.
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One of the first things she noticed about the place was that we were not just poor but we were divided by class, money, history and outlook. Wonthaggi people didn’t like Inverloch people and hill people didn’t talk to coast people.
She reckoned we needed to get to know one another so she’d started a community newspaper called The Current. I’d offered to write a few stories. We were to meet in a café. "How will I recognise you?" I said. “I’m the tall woman in her prime,” she said. There was no mistaking her when she walked in. She soon had me doing the layout for the Current – badly, I now realise, though it eventually got me a job as a layout sub for Fairfax. That was the way with Gill. One thing led to another. |
The shows * Stories of the Hinterland, 2004, Royal Mail Hotel and Krowera Hall, * Over the Bridge, 2006, San Remo and Phillip Island * Tales from the Waterline, 2007, Corinella Hall * In Their Own Words, 2007 * Tales of the Inlet, 2009, Inverloch Anglers Club * A Walk Through Time, 2011, Loch * Postcards from Loch, 2012, Loch Hall * River & Dunes, 2013 (directed by Ian Robinson), Tarwin Lower Football Club * A Question of Honour: Korumburra voices, 2013, Coal Creek * Places in the Heart, 2014, Loch, Krowera, and Jeetho * Stormy Waters: A Play About Us and Them, 2015 * Looking for Wonthaggi, 2021, The Shed, Wonthaggi |
“First of all Gill asked me if I could deliver The Current,” Julie Stakus said. “I did that and then she asked me to write for it. Next thing I knew I was appearing in her productions. She made us do things we didn’t know we could do.”
It wasn’t all work. Gill and Bob loved a party, first at Cape Paterson, later at Kernot, then at Jeetho West. Their calcutta nights, on Melbourne Cup Eve, were legendary but any excuse would do. Over many years, the wine and music flowed and so did the stories. Gill’s stories – invariably she was the butt of them – made us laugh until our sides hurt.
It wasn’t all work. Gill and Bob loved a party, first at Cape Paterson, later at Kernot, then at Jeetho West. Their calcutta nights, on Melbourne Cup Eve, were legendary but any excuse would do. Over many years, the wine and music flowed and so did the stories. Gill’s stories – invariably she was the butt of them – made us laugh until our sides hurt.
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Gill had grown up in a Methodist household in Swan Hill. She led Young Methodist camps and marched in the Methodist parades in Melbourne, but at heart she was always a rebel.
“Being Gill’s friend was fun but frightening. She and Billy Ryan used to throw peanuts into the air and catch them in their mouths during class. She would read novels under the desk. She used to argue with the teachers if she thought they were wrong. She thought sewing was useless and stapled up the hem of a dress she was making instead of hemming it.” |
She gave up God at 19 but the moral seriousness remained. She loved the cut and thrust of debate, arguments, counter-arguments, refutations, passion. “Tell me …” she would say and lead us on, her questions becoming ever more subtle, until we found we were arguing against our own certainties.
Gill Heal, left, and the cast, performed In Their Own Words in the National Gallery of Victoria in 2007. She once said her main interest was in starting a conversation. She did that again and again, in halls and pubs and churches, in songs and stories, between people who might never otherwise have spoken together.
Annie Bain first performed with Gill in In Their Own Words, her show about people with dementia and their carers that was staged at venues across Gippsland and eventually at the National Gallery of Victoria. It was also broadcast on Radio National.
For Annie it was a profound experience to perform in front of an audience that included carers and their families.
“One woman told me she had recently had to place her husband in full time care, and felt so guilty that she could not manage him at home. Hearing other similar stories lifted a great weight off her shoulders.
“Her son had been angry with her for seemingly abandoning his father. She’d persuaded him to come with her to the show and he was moved to tears during the performance. At the end he told her that he now understood why she had to make that decision.”
Annie Bain first performed with Gill in In Their Own Words, her show about people with dementia and their carers that was staged at venues across Gippsland and eventually at the National Gallery of Victoria. It was also broadcast on Radio National.
For Annie it was a profound experience to perform in front of an audience that included carers and their families.
“One woman told me she had recently had to place her husband in full time care, and felt so guilty that she could not manage him at home. Hearing other similar stories lifted a great weight off her shoulders.
“Her son had been angry with her for seemingly abandoning his father. She’d persuaded him to come with her to the show and he was moved to tears during the performance. At the end he told her that he now understood why she had to make that decision.”
“If you’re looking for insights into human behaviour, theatre will do it best. We’re Lear’s “poor bare forked animal”, exposed, full of grand aspirations, taking risks, all our limitations on show. And on the other side of the equation, the audience has bought in. It’s a kind of contract.” |
Brian Blake, a former editor of the South Gippsland Sentinel Times, wrote to Gill after A Question of Honour: Korumburra Voices, which portrayed a wild frontier town founded on coal: mine owners versus miners, and the contested story of Coal Creek itself.
“I have never seen anything quite like it before as you and your talented crew wove the frayed threads of a difficult story into a complete and challenging whole.
“I have never seen anything quite like it before as you and your talented crew wove the frayed threads of a difficult story into a complete and challenging whole.
“I have used the word ‘challenge’ because that’s how the presentation affected me. You left enough broken glass on the road to challenge your audience to pick up the pieces, create a new beginning and build on the foundations left behind from a controversial past.” |
Which is exactly the way Gill wanted it. She respected moral clarity – but she liked moral ambiguity even better, because it reflected the human condition.
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Gill believed that if you listened long enough, people would tell you who they were, and if you shaped those voices with care, they might hear themselves and each other in a new way and understand that we're part of a grand, ongoing story.
Lyndall Wales and Rob Wilson performed in Tales from the Waterline, June 2005 As word spread, her audience grew. Long after her official job finished, her work continued, producing at least one show a year, sometimes two, across Bass Coast and South Gippsland.
John Colebella wrote songs and performed in seven of Gill’s shows. “To this day, I can be in the queue at Aldi and chat to someone I met through one of the shows,” he said.
Between the larger productions there were smaller productions, dramatised walks, forums, a hypothetical. She wrote more than 20 finely crafted profiles for the Bass Coast Post, she curated a series of sell-out, mid-winter readings at the Archies Creek pub, Dalyston Deli and Wonthaggi Library that ran for five years, and she wrote a history of the first 50 years of the Wonthaggi Theatrical Group, a detailed human story full of anecdotes and insights called We Can Do That!
The title encapsulated Gill’s approach to life. She was never happier than when she was wrestling with a project, a performance, how to tell a story.
John Colebella wrote songs and performed in seven of Gill’s shows. “To this day, I can be in the queue at Aldi and chat to someone I met through one of the shows,” he said.
Between the larger productions there were smaller productions, dramatised walks, forums, a hypothetical. She wrote more than 20 finely crafted profiles for the Bass Coast Post, she curated a series of sell-out, mid-winter readings at the Archies Creek pub, Dalyston Deli and Wonthaggi Library that ran for five years, and she wrote a history of the first 50 years of the Wonthaggi Theatrical Group, a detailed human story full of anecdotes and insights called We Can Do That!
The title encapsulated Gill’s approach to life. She was never happier than when she was wrestling with a project, a performance, how to tell a story.
*****
Gill’s final years were shadowed by Parkinson’s Disease. Along with the physical deterioration, she was painfully aware of a growing brain fog. She spent her last 18 months in care at Rose Lodge in Wonthaggi, where she received a steady stream of visitors in her book-lined room. She was always welcoming but the loss of independence and purpose hit her hard.
One day when I went in the familiar glow was back. She told me she was planning a new production. She had already spoken to the Rose Lodge caretaker about a rehearsal space and she was going to invite the other residents of Rose Lodge.
She often talked about her production over the following months. I’d ask her if she wanted to go out. “I’d love to,” she said, “but I’ve got a rehearsal at 3pm.” One day when I went in she said she’d spent all night working on a scene for the kitchen staff to perform. “You’ll love it! ... Here, I’ll show you.”
She stood with difficulty and swung a make-believe mop and we both laughed with pleasure.
One day when I went in the familiar glow was back. She told me she was planning a new production. She had already spoken to the Rose Lodge caretaker about a rehearsal space and she was going to invite the other residents of Rose Lodge.
She often talked about her production over the following months. I’d ask her if she wanted to go out. “I’d love to,” she said, “but I’ve got a rehearsal at 3pm.” One day when I went in she said she’d spent all night working on a scene for the kitchen staff to perform. “You’ll love it! ... Here, I’ll show you.”
She stood with difficulty and swung a make-believe mop and we both laughed with pleasure.