Review: Log Boy | Gallows humour and intergenerational divides

Pictured - Paul Reichstein - Photo credit Jonathan VDK
Anthony Nocera's debut play tackles grief, generational trauma and the scars of the AIDS era with dark comedy and a remarkably talented cast.

The process of dealing with grief often includes acting out, and what better way to do that than to create a play that addresses the predicament? But to fully appreciate Anthony Nocera’s debut full-length play, Log Boy, it is vital to first examine the historical context of its universe.

Unlike the 2017 Australian Marriage Law Postal Survey—where a resounding 61.6% of respondents voted “YES” to the question, “Should the law be changed to allow same-sex couples to marry?” and every state and territory recorded a majority “Yes”—the decriminalisation of homosexuality in Australia was a gradual, state-by-state struggle. This protracted timeline began in South Australia in 1975 and did not conclude until Tasmania decriminalised homosexuality in 1997. It is no coincidence that decriminalisation in our eastern states occurred precisely as the spectre of AIDS arrived.

This specific historical backdrop, alongside the real-life victimisation of same-sex-attracted men, deeply informs the world of Log Boy from its opening moments. Here, William Friedkin’s famously controversial 1980 film Cruising is referenced, serving as a prototypical, albeit generalised, blueprint of the homosexual “Leather scene”.

Anthony Nicola and Chris Asimos in Log Boy
Pictured – Anthony Nicola and Chris Asimos – Photo credit Jonathan VDK

Common sense rarely lands in this comedy-horror show about grief—but, of course, this is what frequently happens with comedy, and Nocera aims fair and square at the funny bone. While his play shares thematic ground with other Australian works tackling issues of grief and AIDS—such as Steven Dawson’s The Art Of Being Still, Alex Harding’s Blood and Honour, and Barry Lowe’s Relative Merits—Nocera’s main point of difference is perspective. Told from the lens of a younger generation, it cleverly spotlights the enormous lack of awareness that exists from one generation of gay men to the next, while demonstrating that unique voices matter and sitting together being vulnerable is not a bridge too far.

Anthony (Anthony Nicola) is a young man in his twenties inhabiting a freshly inherited house left to him by his recently deceased lover, Michael. Alone, vulnerable, and grieving, Anthony lacks the emotional maturity to fully comprehend his predicament. Two of his deceased lover’s friends, Jamie (Paul Reichstein) and Justin (Paul Capsis), are soon to arrive for the impending funeral, and Anthony is barely coping.

When Jamie and Justin do arrive, it feels as though they have landed directly out of William Friedkin’s other controversial film, 1970’s The Boys in the Band. While the dialogue maintains an authentic Australian tone, the characters are absolutely self-obsessed victims of a lifetime dealing with both community-led and internalised homophobia.

Screenshot 2026-10-05 at 5.26.15 pm

The vitriol and grandstanding make for an incredibly heavy and complex human dynamic, handled expertly by Capsis, whose character discharges a well-rehearsed toxic emotional energy of trauma without actually exposing the underlying sadness or horror. Their gallows humour is lost on Anthony, who judges it from the sanctimonious position of modern youth.

When Anthony’s mum—a comedy masterpiece from Elena Carapetis—refers to the infamous ABC interview with Barry “Trough Man” Charles, it is not his personal political context but his unsociable behaviour she muses on. Yet, she also reveals herself to be a modern and complex woman with her own heterosexual proclivities that broaden her perspective and general appeal.

Plays that tackle the subject of grief, including the ones already mentioned, inevitably seem to require a scantily clad ghost. Special mention must go here to Chris Asimos as the Leather Daddy, who frequently provokes and parades for everyone’s amusement.

In arguably the most emotionally complex role of the piece, Paul Reichstein as Jamie delivers some of the most significant dialogue towards the end of the show, doing so without pressing heavily enough to make it feel like an artificial dénouement. The balancing act between comedy and tragedy is always a challenge when it comes to semi-autobiography, and Log Boy will most likely amuse some audiences more than others. However, this particularly talented cast delivers this remarkably nuanced play very well indeed.

4 out of 5 stars

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