London.
NSFW
by Lucy Kirkwood.
Royal Court (Jerwood Theatre Downstairs) Sloane Square SW1W 8AS To 24 November 2012.
Mon-Sat 7.30pm Mat Sat & 15, 22 Nov 2.30pm.
Audio-described 24 Nov 2.30pm
Captioned 21 Nov.
Runs 1hr 20min No interval.
TICKETS: 020 7565 5000.
www.royalcourttheatre.com
Review: Timothy Ramsden 31 October.
Different sides of the print-based skin trade skilfully exposed.
Many opinionated words are spoken in Lucy Kirkwood’s new play. Yet the half-spoken, unspoken, and unexpected silences are finally most eloquent. And the character who comes to be central is the most unassertive. Sam can produce torrents of words, but they’re spoken without malice, or, often, realisation others might be less interested in what he’s saying than he is himself. He is, after all, answering their questions.
In austere times the jobless need the wealthy. With a trust fund at his back, a young journalist can say no, loudly. Without it, he becomes denatured, submissive and silent, turned into a glossy, sleek, silent female icon.
In the first two scenes, the editor of a glossy sex mag fends-off the offended father of a girl photographed bare-breasted. While ‘Doghouse’ exploits women’s bodies for men, woman-powered ‘Electra’, where the action moves. targets the top half of the social demographic, creating the frustrations of an impossible physical ideal; traditional pornography replaced by equally lucrative body fascism.
Both involve hypocrisy, whether in Julian Barratt’s ferret-vicious Aidan, Doghouse editor, or the flowing, fragrant Miranda, Janie Dee’s lightness (an such whirlabout speech be actually written?) and smiles offsetting her character’s toughness, before the final kick-in-the-teeth as she stands in costume, identifying her “hero” while she stands over Sam, who is slaving over the computer, in a final moment as devastating as the end of Alan Ayckbourn’s Absurd Person Singular.
Simon Godwin’s production shapes Kirkwood’s script with scalpel precision through strong performances. Tom Pye’s design contrasts the cluttered laddishness of the cramped, straight-edged Doghouse office and the ‘Electra’ premises, apparently open but with a curving wall concealing its minimalist space.
If the set says so much silently, it’s in key with Esther Smith’s Charlotte, who is just glad to be working but doesn’t tell her women’s group friends about ‘Doghouse’. Selling herself to its interests, giving herself to the boss, her disgust lies half-hidden, leading her to the play’s crudest line.
Amidst all this, Sacha Dhawan’s earnest, honest Sam works on, hinting through quiet details how his life’s being submerged and well on the way to drowning.
Rupert: Henry Lloyd-Hughes.
Charlotte: Esther Smith.
Sam: Sacha Dhawan.
Aidan: Julian Barratt.
Mr Bradshaw: Kevin Doyle.
Miranda: Janie Dee.
Director: Simon Godwin.
Designer: Tom Pye.
Lighting: Guy Hoare.
Sound/Music: Ben & Max Ringham.
Voice coach: Budgie Salam.
Fight director: Bret Yount.
Assistant director: Rosy Banham.
2012-11-01 11:23:42
