After an uncomfortable fling with an average guy, a woman falls in love in one of the few remaining lesbian bars that haven’t yet been colonised by Pret. Initially, the relationship flourishes, until newfound romantic partner, 'Wonder Woman', voices her political and historically learned aversion towards bisexuality. True lesbians, she claims, ought to consciously challenge their attraction to men. Crucially, our protagonist fails to voice her own sexual orientation to 'Wonder Woman'. This one ill-considered lie festers in silence, striking at the heart of their love and opening up the possibility of manipulation.
Rafaella Marcus’ 70 minute debut play flew by
I wasn’t sure what to expect from the abstract blurb promising discussion of "passion, power and photosynthesis", but Rafaella Marcus’ 70 minute debut play flew by. The intricate plot left room for a great deal of laughter, which seemed to lull the audience into a false sense of security that gradually dissipated in a disorienting and unexpected manner. Both actors used the roundhouse space brilliantly, which was testament to Fletcher’s movement direction. The multi-rolling character transformations from 'Man' to 'Wonder Woman' were simultaneously subtle and clear. It was exciting to see the two characters colliding, collapsing in on each other while remaining distinct.
The myth of Daphne and Apollo underpins Marcus’ exploration of bisexual ambiguity, making it an uncomfortable watch. The lyrical exploration of dissociation was extremely nuanced, in that it was neither ‘performed’ – acted out insensitively onstage – nor avoided entirely. Such experiences can be, as the protagonist tells us, slowed down through re-tellings that transcend time, but never erased due to the insidious, pervasive presence of gendered sexual violence. Doyle’s lighting added to the fluidity of these themes. Alongside this, Marcus’ script addressed the exclusivity of certain queer spaces, highlighting the way in which this can be isolating for bisexual women; neither queer enough for the lesbian book club nor straight enough for the ‘straight world’, bisexual women are stuck in a liminal and often perilous zone.
