“History informs our lives,” Haig Chahinian reminds us in this biographical memoir. It can distort them too.
Haig – you pronounce it Hike – the son of Armenian parents, was born into a family only a couple of generations removed from the Armenian genocide of 2015. He suggests we call it the Turkish genocide since it was the Turks who were the perpetrators after all; “credit where credit’s due”.
All four of his grandparents were orphaned as a result. and it’s clear, he realises now, that his family were deeply damaged by that horror. His father particularly. He grew up in America in a house full of anger and arguments.
As a teenager he then came to the realisation he was gay, very much a no-no in Armenian culture. But he also wanted to be a father with his partner. This is his account of the challenges they faced as a result and how he came to be the father of a young black girl and what that taught him about his own past and the prejudices he didn’t realise he was carrying.
This is a fascinating story and it has already been the subject of a series of successful viral essays. I’m not sure, however, it makes for a fascinating show.
There are two problems, one big, one small. One can’t get past the fact that Chahinian, though a warm, articulate presence – ideal dad material – isn’t really a performer. He tells the story clearly and effectively (with a few “dad jokes” thrown in), but without any great sense of drama and there is so much he could be dramatic about.
It’s possible that he doesn’t want to veer into melodrama and cheapen the reality of what he is dealing with here. He is navigating difficult topics – racial prejudice, domestic breakdowns, genocidal violence – after all. But, as a result, his quiet, soft-spoken monologue feels underpowered and low energy despite the material.
It doesn’t help that a couple of the anecdotes of Haig’s own experience as a parent feel rather minor compared to what has gone before. Perhaps that is the point. Even the smallest interactions are informed by the history we bring to them, but, again, it doesn’t make for great drama.
By the end, with his daughter grown up and starting to find her own way in the world, he deserves the touch of sentiment he brings to proceedings.
If only he was able to bring a little more animation to bear on them too. It wouldn’t take much. The outline is here. He just needs to colour it in.
Best. Dad. NEVER, Just the Cask Room at Just the Tonic at the Mash House, 13.05pm, until August 30, except August 18
