Looking for Giants is a fresh, original and impressively performed play in which we see a young woman taking control of her sexuality and making it work for her.
In Cesca Echlin’s show Abby McCann excels as a unnamed young woman exploring both her sexual fantasies, and perhaps equally importantly, the question of whether those fantasies aren’t a lot more fun than the often grim reality of the modern dating scene.
McCann is alone on the stage throughout; her only props are a bar stool and a microphone. The latter allows her to assume the voices of other people – mainly men – which is a good device to differentiate the roles. She certainly doesn’t need amplification for her own voice, which is crystal clear throughout. She has perfect delivery.
In all three scenes she always refers to herself in the third person, a technique which both distances and intrigues and it feels as though we are being told an increasingly intimate story, one whose end we desperately need to know.
The first scenario she describes involves her tutor at university., She’s a bit of a slacker, but when he dismisses her work as unprepared, uninformed and superficial she’s temporarily devastated. She describes his words as penetrating her skin and bones. Her reaction rises to a crescendo of pain. In fact, she has all the feelings most of us have when we’re criticised, no matter how fair that criticism may be.
But then she asks herself:
‘Why am I upset?’
We’re given the first hint that this woman may not be about to conform to gender stereotypes.
She complains to her pastoral tutor, says she never wants to see him again. She goes home for Christmas, and does she use the time to catch up? Does she ever.
McCann’s gestures, and especially her facial expressions, are a joy throughout. Here she mimes googling her adversary, peering at her imaginary phone, later she sidles into a room, picking the chair nearest the door for a quick escape. We’ve all been there.
When she takes over one of the other characters, she’s hilarious; anyone who’s ever been a student will recognise the self-important, can’t really be bothered, tutor, who starts every sentence with a sigh. The postgraduate student whom she consults about said tutor is also perfectly captured, with all his ‘Yahs’ and ‘Hope that helps!’
By the time she returns in January she’s done no more work, but she has hatched a plan. The postgrad has told her that her tutor is ‘all battle and confrontation’; she’s going to give as good as she gets. From then on in, she crosses verbal swords with him at every opportunity. McCann gets lots of laughs from the audience as she recounts their barbed conversations; he assumes she must have read his books, and she delights in telling him that she not only hasn’t, she probably never will.
And to her surprise, she realises that they’re both enjoying this new dynamic, which she describes in quasi-sexual terms. Having to put on a ‘masculine uniform’ lets her be:
‘brutal, direct, not apologising for taking up space….she was the person she really was.’
She attends a seminar, hoping he’ll be there (and McCann does a brilliant mime of someone surreptitiously looking to see if someone’s looking at them). When he ignores her she’s cross, but not too cross and when he’s much nicer to his peers than he is to her, she enjoys the idea that he might be keeping his darker side for her.
And so her fantasy continues, she embellishes it with wilder and wilder ideas – and they’re definitely not about marrying him and having his babies.
She moves on from college days to dating apps. Now her fantasies are with an older man. Is she bothered that he’s ‘in a long distance open relationship’? She is not and instead she rolls her eyes flirtatiously:
‘he must have a LOT of experience.’
Via an app they play erotic games, watch porn videos, have phone sex. She tells him about her sex life (and expresses deep and very entertaining reservations about his grammar and spelling). He takes control, she loves it. She wants him to ‘tell her who she is.’
When he suddenly leaves the app, she’s briefly miserable, but she tellingly calls this:
‘an emotional slip up…..She’s drunk and none of it is about him after all.’
The last scene takes the woman back to her schooldays, and to the fantasy she develops around a teenage boy. I found this episode less interesting and more confusing than the other two, although that wasn’t McCann’s fault, her performance remained flawless.
Perhaps this story of her younger self is intended to show the early beginnings of her attachment to fantasy. We can recognise traits that will come more to the fore as time passes; the need to challenge:
‘She throws (verbal) daggers at him, to see if he’s real. Sharp things. He just stands there.’
She refers again to someone giving her the space she needs in the world, the freedom within a safe boundary. And when this rather uninspiring individual fails to come through, she doesn’t care. The fact that she made the first move, albeit one that was rejected, leaves her feeling,
‘exhilarated, like sex; only she could bring herself to take the first leap.’
When, much later, she sees him again, she draws a conclusion that could equally apply to all three scenes; fantasy can be far more rewarding than real life, she can make it whatever she wants it to be, go back to it whenever she wants. She can write her own stories, and always be the star.
‘Isn’t the thought of it exciting?’
Echlin turns stereotypes on their heads; as her protagonist says, none of it is about these individual men at all, they are merely material for her fantasies, they are commodities. I especially appreciated the fact that this woman is not portrayed as weird or needy; she is having a great time, she is strong, she is powerful, and she is living her life as she wants to lead it. Her choices are validated. Exhilarating is the word.
Looking for Giants is at Underbelly (Belly Laugh), Cowgate at 2.35pm every day until 13 August. It is a That What’s Wild production.
