Virginity, though, acts as this mystical shroud of shame that compels us to make crazy decisions or put ourselves in vulnerable situations just so we can say we've overcome it. It's a bit messed up, right? At least, that's what the Bristol based 'Loose Cannon Theatre' seems to have decided, as it brings one of western culture's most taboo topics to this year's Edinburgh Fringe Festival with Cherry, and I was lucky enough to catch a glimpse.
The play instantly establishes itself as a verbatim piece, in which every line of dialogue has been taken from a real person in an authentic interview for the play; the spectacular Lizzie Annis immediately engages the audience with her character's frank discussion about what virginity means to her. Her character powerfully presents virginity as a concept as something as elusive as it is omnipresent, as suffocating as it is utterly intangible. From there we are introduced to new voices and people who are hilariously relatable. Clunky, embarrassing and, most importantly, authentic stories about virginity invite the audience to begin their theatre going experience by admitting the very thing society wants us to keep hidden: no one really understands virginity, and almost everyone has been felt pressured into losing it.
It's Cherry's stripped-back attitude that really allows it to shine. In the safety of the theatre this strange social construct is picked apart, and who knew such comedy could be found at its core? Intertwined with verbatim dialogue are lip-synced excerpts from films and television shows which, in an act of directorial genius, keep reminding the audience of the absurdity that the notion of virginity really is. It is in one of these lip-synced moments that Jessica Garlick truly gets the chance to shine. With only her use of facial expression and body language, Garlick had the entire auditorium in fits of laughter as she embodied the aforementioned E. L. James's "Anastasia Steele" to comedic perfection.
The contrast between the brutally honest verbatim sections and the heightened propensities of popular culture inject electrifying humor into the play and hammer home the role that society played in the real stories acted out before us. Indeed, when films in pop-culture such as Fifty Shades of Grey present such heightened shame around the so-called state of virginity, it is easy to understand why so many young people put themselves into the dangerous positions they do to lose it.
Left to Right: Layla Madanat, Joss Gillespie, Mikey Tsoukkas
It's not all fun and games though, and rightly so, because traumatic sexual experiences are just as common as those that end up as fun little anecdotes. Joss Gillespie at one point plays a young man haunted by the mental and physical pain he put a past lover (played beautifully by Lily Carr) through when he manipulated her into a night of sexual coercion. Only an actor the caliber of Gillespie could portray such a role and still not make the audience hate him. Of course, the story was unsettling, and all the while understanding it was verbatim ratcheted up the stakes even further, but the character had a deep layer of vulnerability within him and it was this nuanced performance that prompted the audience to contemplate larger ideas. Perhaps there are young men so pressured by their hyper-sexual society that they end up hurting the people closest to them, without even realizing it at the time. It begs the question: why is virginity more important to society than consent?
Also importantly explored is the role of virginity in areas of society that traditional media rarely chooses to focus on. A range of LGBTQ+ voices were presented, perhaps most effectively of all by Mikey Tsoukkas who played a young gay man in a section of the play. Of course, the sheer notion of virginity is something inapplicable to members of the LGBTQ+ community, with it so often exclusively defined as the state of never having had penetrative sex with both male and female genitalia. Tsoukkas's character, then, discussed what virginity meant to him, as Annis also did in the play's beginning (where she portrayed a bisexual woman). While incredibly funny, Tsoukkas and Annis both managed to shine a light on an aspect of sex that many heterosexual people don't even consider: the invalidation of LGBTQ+ sexual experiences and how they impact those who identify as under that umbrella.
Above: Layla Madanat
Elliot Brett and Polly Wain, the two directors, haven't just formed an excellent performance, though, as Cherry's stage design and variety of technical elements only enforce the communal atmosphere of the piece. The minimalist staging of the play doubles down on its stripped-back appeal. Absent is western culture's glossy influence, in its place standing honest conversation. Incorporating shadow puppetry, live music, projection, various lighting effects, sound effects and even the humble party popper allowed Cherry to become truly dynamic.
My personal favourite example of this was during a sequence in which Layla Madanat dynamically performed against a light screen on which dark shadow was slowly encompassing her, serving as a visual representation of the sexual pressures in our generation. This variety of technical elements in the hour-long play effortlessly helps to form the multitude of voices, experiences and mindsets presented. Brett and Wain, along with the cast, managed to create a piece of modern theatre that simultaneously defies society and represents it, and does so in a way more honest than I believe I have ever seen before.
Cherry truly is a much needed piece of theatre. While genuinely hysterical, this play explores topics I haven't seen be explored before, and has the potential to instigate life-changing conversation about consent, sex and virginity amongst young people. It's normally not the case that such poignant lessons can be learnt from theatre so utterly charming, but Cherry comfortably sits in that sugary-sweet spot. A true breath of fresh air, Loose Cannon Theatre's fascinating play can only be referred to as 'the Cherry on top' of the Fringe's perennially crowded line up. Don't miss out.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Written by James Green
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