Oran Mor, Glasgow
4 stars
Temptation is everywhere in Jo Clifford’s new play, which comes all dressed up in a vivid scarlet boudoir where a transsexual prostitute and her clinically efficient client indulge in something a whole lot more poetic than a bit of business, funny or otherwise. He’s giving a speech to the General Assembly in an hour, and must offload any un-necessary distractions. She has another client booked in before then anyway, and will willingly go through whatever motions are required to get things over with in as short a time as possible. Maybe promising Heaven itself, however, was over-selling things somewhat.
Beyond the porn-star poses and camp banter, there’s a sadness and a self-loathing at the heart of both characters, whose meeting of minds and everything else resembles one of Tennessee Williams’ equally intimate miniatures. Clifford, though, takes things further, and as the pair attempt to recreate a sexual awakening sense memory via an apple, a pair of dungarees and some lederhosen, something quietly audacious and deeply serious about self-hood, self-definition and sexuality is played out.
In Cheryl Martin’s sensitively realised and exquisitely designed production – the final lunchtime collaboration between Oran Mor and Edinburgh’s Traverse Theatre – all this makes for a gently subversive piece of liberation theology. As the prostitute, a fearless David Walshe may initially seem to be playing up a stereotype, as indeed does Crawford Logan as the client. As the play goes on, though, the subtlety and depth of the writing lays bare both characters vulnerability. By the end, both parties may not have quite squared up to Heaven, but for a day at least they’ve learnt to love themselves. Amen to that.
The Herald, April 7th 2009
ends
4 stars
Temptation is everywhere in Jo Clifford’s new play, which comes all dressed up in a vivid scarlet boudoir where a transsexual prostitute and her clinically efficient client indulge in something a whole lot more poetic than a bit of business, funny or otherwise. He’s giving a speech to the General Assembly in an hour, and must offload any un-necessary distractions. She has another client booked in before then anyway, and will willingly go through whatever motions are required to get things over with in as short a time as possible. Maybe promising Heaven itself, however, was over-selling things somewhat.
Beyond the porn-star poses and camp banter, there’s a sadness and a self-loathing at the heart of both characters, whose meeting of minds and everything else resembles one of Tennessee Williams’ equally intimate miniatures. Clifford, though, takes things further, and as the pair attempt to recreate a sexual awakening sense memory via an apple, a pair of dungarees and some lederhosen, something quietly audacious and deeply serious about self-hood, self-definition and sexuality is played out.
In Cheryl Martin’s sensitively realised and exquisitely designed production – the final lunchtime collaboration between Oran Mor and Edinburgh’s Traverse Theatre – all this makes for a gently subversive piece of liberation theology. As the prostitute, a fearless David Walshe may initially seem to be playing up a stereotype, as indeed does Crawford Logan as the client. As the play goes on, though, the subtlety and depth of the writing lays bare both characters vulnerability. By the end, both parties may not have quite squared up to Heaven, but for a day at least they’ve learnt to love themselves. Amen to that.
The Herald, April 7th 2009
ends
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