Tuesday, 22 April 2014

Natalia Coe responding to Number 1, The Plaza by GETINTHEBACKOFTHEVAN

If such an offer were to come up, I'd usually politely decline any invitation involving excrement being thrust down someone's throat and being robustly informed I'm a cunt, but I was blissfully ignorant that this was on the cards when I stepped into the Junction to watch No. 1ThePlaza by Getinthebackofthevan. I'm pleased I went nevertheless.

I'd personally never seen anything like this. At first, I comfortably chuckled along to what I'd decided must be an arty stand-up comedy show- as the witty, scantily-clad, flat-sharing, co-working performers interrupted each other in comedic banter and broke out into skillful musical theatre song. After a while the claustrophobia of their bickering clamps down on you- the vile pooh incidents occur (enough said), we're asked to pack up and fuck right off. The performers retreat behind the sound system, swigging Chardonnay. It was like a door slamming in your face and a switch in genre. No longer a jolly evening at the theatre- but a disgusting, confusing one.

It was effectively alienating and moved me to reflect on the brutality and claustrophobia of certain relationships. Despite the extreme humiliation that occurred, their show and relationship carry on- culminating in a hollow sexual act.

At times raunchy, hilarious, self-mocking then uncomfortably hostile, this show contains some little treats and some thudding blows. If you're feeling adventurous and might enjoy being left pondering its meaning, I'd recommend this show.

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