Humane, heartfelt and inventively told tale of gender, self-fulfilment and female love
Bittersweet, uplifting and profoundly enlightening, this deeply felt drama from Chris Bush brings remarkable clarity to some knotty and tremendously contentious topics. The story starts with Harry – assigned male at birth, legally married to a woman, Jo. But when she accepts that she can never be happy living within those identities, she begins a daunting journey of personal growth, which sends destabilising ripples through all her relationships.
Directed by multidisciplinary artist Ann Yee, the piece seamlessly blends song, surreal imagery and realistic dialogue scenes, while maintaining a coherent mood. There is something of the heightened intimacy of a folktale told around a campfire here: however dark things may momentarily become, Yee ensures that warmth and lightness permeate the production.
Fizz Sinclair captures every nuance of Harry’s journey, experiencing moments of life-affirming liberation and soul-shrivelling shame as she unlearns her old assumptions and grapples with the complexities of her authentic identity. Jade Anouka’s profoundly likeable Jo movingly struggles to reconcile her conflicting needs, seeking freedom above all, but only ever finding fulfilment in committed, stable relationships. Amanda Wilkin’s Gabby, with whom Jo falls in love, arrives as a breath of fresh air, at first seeming entirely uninhibited and joyful. But she, too, becomes locked into inflexible modes of thinking as her overwhelming desire to have children comes to dominate her thoughts.
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The set, designed by Fly Davis, features a round dais of varnished wooden boards that opens up to reveal a pool of dark water at its centre, like the pupil of a vast eye. Wedding bouquets are scattered about the space in the opening moments, later replaced by glowing cables of LEDs that surround the stage in pulsing, multicoloured flashes or crawl up the walls with a cold teal glow. Anna Watson’s lighting bisects the space into abutting zones of amber warmth and pale blue cold.
The play shifts gears dramatically in the second half, diverging into a pair of interlinked, fantasy-tinted parables – one follows a cyborg surrogate mother in a sterile future, the other sees a mermaid adapting to life on land in a gothic pseudo-historical England. It’s a deliberately jarring jump, but it works brilliantly, hammering home the dislocating sense of otherness the characters feel as they simultaneously struggle to conform to, and escape from, societal norms into which they do not neatly fit.
Through these twisty side-stories, Bush fearlessly examines the gulf between the experiences of trans women and women assigned female at birth. The arguments that follow are lacerating, but ultimately, the play’s message is hopeful and universal: whatever lives we live and whatever judgements we may face, we are all ultimately only human – frightened, alone, but capable in our finest moments of transformative acts of love.
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