Tron Theatre, Glasgow
4 stars
In a hospital bed bathed in a sepulchral glow and watched over by
nurses that through the projected haze could be angels, a young man –
or is it? - lies mourning his fate, his very being ripped in two.
Slowly, his other half, his real female self, uncurls from within like
a spirit chasing a life discovered. As the two halves that make up this
whole person rise to their feet, recounting the awfully big adventure
they've been on ever since they chased the feminine ideal from a bus
stop to John Lewis' lipstick counter by way of an almost love story
that began in a late night bar, a gorgeous, funny, brave and ultimately
tragic meditation unfolds.
Stef Smith's beautiful tone poem for two voices may have been inspired
by the life and times of doomed transgender woman Angie Extravaganza,
but so rich is the allure of Smith's writing that it manages to
transcend such origins to a here and now that might be about any mixed
up kid struggling to let out the big girl within. This is heightened
even further in Ros Philips' woozy dreamscape of a production by its
slow-burning execution, led by a pair of remarkable performances from
John Paul Murray as the Male Voice and, with particular understated
bravura, from Gordon Brandie as its female counterpart.
As the voices bounce off each other line by line, repression turns to
liberation, so it's as if he/she has broken through a cocoon to
metamorphosise into a bruised but flamboyant, life-loving butterfly.
Only when its wings are clipped does everything come crashing down to
earth in this frighteningly assured assault from the left-field.
The Herald, April 11th 2011
ends
4 stars
In a hospital bed bathed in a sepulchral glow and watched over by
nurses that through the projected haze could be angels, a young man –
or is it? - lies mourning his fate, his very being ripped in two.
Slowly, his other half, his real female self, uncurls from within like
a spirit chasing a life discovered. As the two halves that make up this
whole person rise to their feet, recounting the awfully big adventure
they've been on ever since they chased the feminine ideal from a bus
stop to John Lewis' lipstick counter by way of an almost love story
that began in a late night bar, a gorgeous, funny, brave and ultimately
tragic meditation unfolds.
Stef Smith's beautiful tone poem for two voices may have been inspired
by the life and times of doomed transgender woman Angie Extravaganza,
but so rich is the allure of Smith's writing that it manages to
transcend such origins to a here and now that might be about any mixed
up kid struggling to let out the big girl within. This is heightened
even further in Ros Philips' woozy dreamscape of a production by its
slow-burning execution, led by a pair of remarkable performances from
John Paul Murray as the Male Voice and, with particular understated
bravura, from Gordon Brandie as its female counterpart.
As the voices bounce off each other line by line, repression turns to
liberation, so it's as if he/she has broken through a cocoon to
metamorphosise into a bruised but flamboyant, life-loving butterfly.
Only when its wings are clipped does everything come crashing down to
earth in this frighteningly assured assault from the left-field.
The Herald, April 11th 2011
ends
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