Natasha is international editor for The Stage. She co-founded Exeunt magazine and regularly writes for the Guardian and the BBC.
The Royal Exchange reopens with a piece of warm and uplifting one-woman gig theatre
Manchester’s Royal Exchange had to make some tough decisions to survive. But it has survived – and the unique, in-the-round space has reopened with a show that feels like a subtle statement of intent: a warm-hearted, embracive bit of gig theatre that also marks the start of the inaugural season of incoming artistic directors Roy Alexander Weise and Bryony Shanahan.
Lauryn Redding’s solo show captures the wonder of first love: the delicious tingle of attraction, the pain of heartbreak.
Redding plays Elle, who works in fast-food joint Chips and Dips, which sells a lot of beige food. There she meets newbie Eve, who has a place at Oxford to study medicine. Elle is smitten with Eve’s green eyes, her posh southern accent and the freckle on her chin that turns out to be chocolate.
After some tentative flirtation, they finally own up to having feelings for one another. Pretty soon they’re inseparable: drunk on each other, spending hours in bed talking – and doing other fun stuff.
Redding, together with sound designer Alexandra Faye Braithwaite, use guitars, loop pedals and a bit of beatboxing to craft her love story. Music threads though her tale and designer Amanda Stoodley has scattered bar stools and little pub tables around the space to add to the sense that this is more of a gig than a play. Director Shanahan injects movement and momentum into the production, so even though Redding is alone on stage, her presence fills it.
Class plays a large part in this love story. Elle lives on the 10th floor of a tower block she affectionately calls Cloud Rise with a mum who’s prone to depression and a collection of her dead dad’s vinyl; Eve lives in a massive, fancy house and owns an actual, real-life horse. Redding has an ear for dialogue and a fine eye for detail – Eve garnishes her gin and tonics with rosemary, Elle pretends to like it. She captures the magic of giving another woman pleasure, the awkwardness of young love, the devastation of rejection, and how hard it can be – still – to come out, to tell the world who you are.
There are times when the storytelling meanders and repeats itself. It feels rather overstretched and the emotive coda doesn’t quite come off. The show has a scrappy quality, but this doesn’t really matter because Redding sustains things. More than that, she fills the space completely with her candour and warmth, her humour and her voice.
Bloody Elle puts class and the queer experience centre stage, and couples it with the long-denied and primal high of live music to gorgeous, heart-swelling effect.
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