A queer clown goes to therapy to help them through their breakup. The result? A surreal cacophony of characters that spill onto the stage whilst the protagonist is confronted about the upsetting reality of their past relationship. Kathrine Payne’s Plewds plays with genre, form and expectations in a darkly funny and sharply observant performance blending clowning, drag and multimedia in a phantasmagorical explosion that grips you from start to finish.
A phantasmagorical explosion that grips you from start to finish.
We are immediately transported to a realm of fantasy as the stage is set with a giant TV screen, a love-heart statue and sparkly curtains, all covered in a psychedelic pink goo. This cartoonish appearance reflects the protagonist’s M.O.: even their name denotes the drops of perspiration in comic books and illustration that indicate physical exertion, fear, embarrassment etc. Indeed, ‘Plewds’ hides from uncomfortable truths with comedy and performativity, demonstrated in the many characters they inhabit over the course of the therapy session. Lip-syncs to X factor sob stories pepper the performance, which are perhaps the most visceral real-life embodiment of plewds.
Payne’s characters parody the treatment of female queerness in pop culture with darkly funny characters that use clown-like exaggerated movements. Key figures include a bamboozled detective character with ridiculous shoulder-pads and a French director who tries to reconstruct straight love stories. True, this eccentric series of motifs might be confusing to some audiences unfamiliar with this style of theatre, but paradoxically, deeper meanings are only strengthened by its absurdism. The sublime and the ridiculous cannot exist without a core truth.
The show makes many poignant observations in a deliberately indirect manner, separating itself from the trauma-dumping solo shows that plague the Fringe year-on-year. In particular, Payne confronts the heteronormative way we speak about women and their power (or lack thereof), which results in queer abuse being made invisible to public consciousness, left unrecognised and undermined. This alone is an incredibly powerful insight that is rarely spoken about, so it is brilliant that Payne is bringing greater awareness to the issue with their show. There are, however, a few ideas that aren’t as effectively executed as others, particularly when repeating text that doesn’t quite work in the scene at hand. There is always room for further development with clowning, and I am confident that this would be easy to rectify.
Payne is an unbelievably engaging performer who utilises their physicality, breath-work and voice to their full extent, leaving nothing left to be desired. They have an effervescent presence that fills the room and you cannot take your eyes off them. Every tiny move they make is seeped in intention. They could be standing still and still move you.
Plewds presents a technicolour yet dark cacophony of emotions that plays with both the sublime and the sorrowful. Regardless of whether ‘alternative theatre’ is your thing, it is worth booking a ticket simply to see Payne’s incredible skill as a performer.
