Bread and Roses Theatre Archives - Page 2 of 18

Big Girl

Bread & Roses Theatre

Reviewed – 18th September 2020

★★★

“Rooney has great charisma and is clearly a born entertainer”

Big Girl is a one woman show written, directed, and delivered by the twenty-three-year-old Emily J Rooney. Produced by Ryan Wilce and Luke Mosely, Big Girl fuses stand-up comedy and spoken word to chronicle Rooney’s experience growing up as a fat, queer, working-class woman from Essex. Amusing anecdotes abound, Rooney unashamedly talks about her embarrassing and naïve past as she works towards self-acceptance with admirable candour.

Rooney establishes a rapport with the audience immediately. Before the show begins, Rooney greets them as they enter the door while she casually drinks tea and enjoys a biscuit. She says, in pre-Covid times, the audience would have been welcome to a biscuit too. Rooney has everyone captivated throughout her performance, her exuberant personality a joy to watch on stage.

She begins the show talking about her weight, specifically, when she realised that she was fat. Rooney then speaks about learning to love her body, and her desire to see a world that is free of the notion that skinny is better. In the show’s next section, Rooney explores her realisation of her position in the class hierarchy after going to university, before rounding off the show with a brief look at her queerness. Each new theme is introduced via short spoken word pieces, all of which are beautifully written though jarringly different in tone from the rest of the performance.

Rooney explores some interesting topics during her show but unfortunately many stories trail off and are left unresolved, the meaning that the audience is meant to take away, unclear. For example, the section on body positivity is suddenly interrupted by a discussion on Essex sub-culture, which would fit far more naturally into her next section on class. Her discussion on her weight and physical appearance is overall pretty brief, and her positive relationship with her size a sudden reality rather than a journey the audience sees unfold. The final section – apparently focusing on her sexuality – also has little direction, and her monologue here only related to her queerness by the references to her girlfriend.

Rooney does draw links between her class, queerness, and fatness through her experience of these culminating in her overwhelming desire to make sure people feel comfortable. However, so much more could be explored. For example, the intersection between class and fatness, and the stigma that is attached to this. Similarly, the complicated relationship between queerness and fatness and its association with butch culture, opposite to the traditionally feminine. More discussion on how her identities interplay and feed into one another would certainly be welcome.

The Bread & Roses Theatre in Clapham is a small space even during normal times, and, due to social distancing, this has been further restricted to a capacity of around 20 people. This works well to create an intimate relationship between Rooney and the audience and is well-suited for the casual delivery of her stories. The stage is on a raised platform and empty apart from a small table on the left-hand side for refreshments. No props are used, except a printed news report about BMI that she pulled from her bra and quickly discarded. The lighting is simple, only varying when dimmed and making a reddish hue during the spoken word.

Emily J Rooney has great charisma and is clearly a born entertainer. However, some more nuanced discussion on the intersection between her key themes – class, queerness and fatness – would elevate Big Girl to a new level.

Reviewed by Flora Doble

Main photo by Poppy Marriott

Big Girl

Bread & Roses Theatre until 19th September

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:

Room Service | ★★★★★ | September 2019

The Bacchae | ★★★ | September 2019

Trial Of Love | ★★★½ | September 2019

By The Light Of The Moon | ★★★★ | October 2019

Smashing It! | ★★ | October 2019

The Gravy Bunch | ★★½ | October 2019

The Signalman | ★★★ | October 2019

All Of Us Want Something To Get Over | ★★★ | February 2020

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★★★★

“we cry with her, we laugh with her, and, most importantly – we feel with her”

Julie (Debbie Bird) is a woman. 50 (or approaching). Divorcee. Not much of sex life. And she is – buzzing.

Julie did not have much luck with love in her life. Newly out of a loveless (and mostly sexless) marriage, she now strives to find herself in a new life. Introduced by her daughter to a fun Tinder world of “swipe right” and “swipe left”, Julie goes on her little Odyssey in a quest for new sexual adventures to validate her own attractiveness.

There is something amazingly fascinating about this kind of “theatrical nudity”. Theatre is – fundamentally – a lie. For the sake of cathartic experience, we are prone to suspend our disbelief for an hour or two and cry over a hunk in a huge headpiece who is pretending to be a lion. And yet, theatre this intimate, theatre that is capable of resonating with its audience to this extent can be completely enthralling. What is more – although this word may have completely lost its meaning at this point – this theatre is relatable.

When most roles are written for younger women and the best middle-aged female actors can hope for is a noble mother or faithful spouse, Bird’s piece portrays Julie only at the very start of her journey. Julie explores, plays and makes mistakes – she is alive. She learns a lesson and discover something about herself – something that is, admittedly, a tad naïve and quite “hip” and “empowering” – something that resonates, nevertheless. And not only with its target audience of (presumably) other middle-aged women who are “not ready to be put out to pasture yet”; I’d daresay it has a potential to resonate with every audience member.

A family show it is not, though. Sexual references are persistent throughout the entire seventy minutes. Although far from obscene, they are, indeed, quite daring. And usually very, very funny.

Debbie Bird is a remarkable performer and a skilled playwright. Alongside precise direction from Mark Farrelly, Buzzing is brought to life with a detailed and clever script, although the pacing near the end could have been improved. But it is her personality and acting that shines brightest – we cry with her, we laugh with her, and, most importantly – we feel with her.

Reviewed by Dominika Fleszar