Within this play with in a play – no spoiler as it hardly matters – Chris will have himself a not-so-fast-tracking, denialist-angry, dashingly tyro.
It is full of philosophical promise, erudition, poise and wit – notwithstanding his unprecedented capacity for conceited bullshite, gaslight bullying. He posits a studied, fop-haired faux aesthetic. Others might see it as Mommy’s-boy needy tosser. It’s an hour-long, bed-sit introspective mellow-drama where in and out of character characters parry barbed, faux stabs – sometimes with excruciating lethal nastiness.
Co-protagonist, in/out of character, Tessa, affects a therapy-tolerant patience with Chris’s petulant tantrums. Her character remains frustratingly, submissively undeveloped – thereby hangs a point. The language teeters between mono-syllabic, cryptic Pinter and ‘Pick-Up-A-Pinta’ retro ‘A Taste Of Honey.’ Chris is a self-satisfied, smug, suffocating git. Tessa barely has a voice. That about says it all for her – in her suffocated absence: is anyone listening?
What’s not to adore/abhor as these two scar-tossed lovers eviscerate what remaining organs they haven’t already conjoined.
Abcesses grate the heart asunder. Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Woolf for the New-Text Generation. Definitely worth a punt – even if to evaluate whether your next is about to become your ex.
Moreover, ask yourself this, Tessa – would you really want to meet his Mum? More worringly, would you trust him meeting yours’? As for the title – Plasters?
The first cut is the deepest – rather apposite it being at Jenner Theatre at Space TripleX adjacent to The Surgeon’s Hall.