“… questions where social ideas of ‘normal’ stem from”
So London’s balmy start to summer decided to burst into a massive downpour this evening (actually for most of the afternoon beforehand too), therefore I found myself bereft of canoe and risking driving to the venue through foot deep puddles and rivulets of water!
The Kings Head Theatre Pub in Islington is on the A1 so fairly accessible and local parking not bad after 6.30. The pub itself is a traditional affair, massive windows and polished wood. It isn’t a huge room but on a ‘quiet’ Tuesday it was buzzing and capably tended by two cheerful barmen. Clientele was mixed. Every age of punter and a lot of accents chattering happily. I tried to guess who around me was waiting for admittance to the theatre in the back of the pub …
The pub has a long theatrical history framed on it’s walls and whilst the theatre is small it runs a slick turnaround. A registered charity, the theatre relies solely on donations and ticket sales to survive – they get no share of bar takings and pay rent to the brewery to be on site. Yet they are proud of their Equity House Agreement that means everyone involved with each production is paid the going rate.
I was here to see the second production of the evening ‘Bridle’, written and performed by Stephanie Martin. Part of ‘Festival 47’, the King’s Head’s new writing showcase.
For the uninitiated the auditorium is a little cramped, and tonight was pretty well attended. Despite the wet weather, the evening was not any cooler so the ceiling fans are a welcome breeze in an intimate venue. We entered to see a bare stage, a single microphone, a woman in a horse mask reading a porn magazine.
I’d seen the blurb and thought I was in for an hour or so of thought provoking drama regarding women’s sexuality in contemporary Britain. Instead I was treated to a mix of stand up comedy and monologue which slowly unravelled into a very 21st century tale from the Clamour Theatre Company, with all the drama hitting home via what we learned about our complex and flawed sole character.
The play begins as ‘Evie’ is detained by people unknown for an act she wasn’t aware of was a crime; the charges remaining ambiguous. Her reminiscences and explanations, her disclosures about her private life, loves and relationships, are slowly laid bare and the audience begins to build a picture of her. Modern grey areas such as sexting and stalking are explored and encroaching political censorship as well as social parameters are acknowledged.
Evie is likeable, honest and funny in declaring her past, she reigns nothing in, making you wonder if she’s a victim or a manipulator. While veering between laughing at her and with her, the play poses some familiar issues regarding ‘attention seeking behaviour’, attitudes to women who are open about life/love/sex, the female virgin/whore dichotomy, and feminine vs. feminist stereotypes. Through Evie’s revelations the audience questions where social ideas of ‘normal’ stem from – it lays bare the judgements we are all constantly either making, or are open to, without declaring what the verdict ought to be.
Stephanie Martin was very good as Evie, relaxed in the role and able to adapt the script around a small amount of audience participation/interaction. She held everyone’s attention and kept the narrative flowing.
If the applause at the end is a gauge, no one was disappointed with the performance. There is no resolution, vindication or damnation of who Evie is, she is in many ways all of us rolled into one – and as a woman watching the show I realise much of what it highlights is, or has been, real life to far too many friends, relatives and colleagues. That said, with both feet firmly on the entertainment stage the loudest laughs came from the males in the audience, even if one or two looked a little uncomfortable at first, so don’t dismiss this play as solely for a female audience.
In fact go see for yourself what an UN-Bridled woman has to say.
“It’s a funny world when the only thing two friends agree on is the hideousness of wet bread”
You know you’re in for some serious political eccentricity when you walk into a theatre and are greeted by various colourful picketing signs – ‘save our badgers!’, ‘my body, my rules’, ‘meat is murder’ …
Adele is a young, strong willed and opinionated character, traits that could get her very far in life. However, she is one of ‘those people’, we all know the type, that one friend you have that insists you get on board with their political and environmental views. The friend in question will never hound you into changing your own views but will subtly remind you that your actions and beliefs are wrong and that you are solely responsible for the destruction of society and, of course, the planet.
But you still love this friend and take it all with a pinch of salt because after all, they can get themselves into some awfully funny situations.
From the romance that goes wrong – Adele’s inability to understand why her date isn’t Vegan – to her attempt at inviting a homeless man to share her home, this comedy focuses on the young people of today who are passionate about changing the planet but can’t really do anything about the state of their own lives.
Writer Tom Glover (finalist in the BBC Writers Prize for radio and the joint winner of the BBC Trans comedy award) cleverly incorporates many characters into this one-woman show.
Morag Sims plays the character of Adele but also the characters of Adele’s mother, best friend, whiny niece, love-interest, homeless acquaintance, fellow protestors and more. The versatility Sims shows is incredible and the ease at which she moves from one accent to the next is both impressive and utterly hilarious.
What is poignant throughout this production is the juxtaposition between Adele’s comedic every day life and the seriousness of her mother’s cancer. It asks the audience the question, why are so many people fighting monumental world issues when they don’t even have time to look after a sick family member? Do we really have our priorities right? Can we actually do anything about the state of the world?
Adele not only sacrifices her relationship with her mother but also the other people in her life. A concerned friend, baffled by Adele’s political interests, finds that one day over lunch the only thing two friends agree on is the hideousness of … wet bread.
