Esme Davis
It takes a lot for a show at fringe to fall into the category of ‘utterly unexpected’. And Betty Grumble’s Enemies of Groovieness Eat Shit pushes even the boundaries on that. In an hour and twenty minutes, Grumble calls on the audience to join her in a ritual of shameless, raw sexual rebellion, completely reframing any and all existing expectations of the natural body.
This is a show that knows its audience and serves them unapologetically. It is not a piece for everyone – there is a demand to be open, engaged and willing to let any pre-existing idea of ‘rude’ or ‘decent’ go flying out the window. This show transforms the medieval-feeling theatre into a spiritual cradle of all that the rest of the world might consider private or obscene. Armed with musical shakers and open minds, the audience to this show is taken on a rollercoaster. We bore witness to rock ‘n’ roll spectacles, to sexual acts of grief, to poetry speaking out against a corrupt justice system. We pay homage to forgotten feminist figures, and somehow a lot of paint gets involved as well.
Taking a step back, this show playfully explores a thoughtful and relevant collection of topics. Centering on the joy, pleasure and mistreatment of the body, the thematic spotlight shifts to grief, to rage, flickering from feminism to spirituality. The heavy beat of the musical underscore and dry, well-timed humour helps carve out a safe space for the audience to revel in the electric chaos taking place on stage. Whilst this show could potentially be discomforting, overwhelming and exposing, it provides solace to the audience that needs it. And for those unsure of where they might sit on this scale, I want to highlight the respect and consideration expressed by the performer, who consistently checks in with the audience and gives the option to look away or leave when the performance gets intense.
There are two tones interweaving through this show. The first is made up of electric high-energy rock-star moments, performatively tearing down the social contract of what is and isn’t ‘appropriate’. We bear witness to the clown that is Betty Grumble as she rejects the censorship of the naked body. This is layered with a more focused, angry tone, twisting the scorn so often cast upon sexuality and reflecting it back out at the world. Betty unapologetically asks ‘who made bodies a rude and dirty thing?’
These dual strands to the show are well-supported by the presence of Craig. Craig, the ritual-assistant, musical support and rhythmic stagehand. This second character on stage gives the show a chance to take its time, the transitions fluid and integrated as the performers interact in a precisely-timed, suggestive choreography. Their occasional moments of synchronisation were delightfully effective in both mediating the chaos happening on stage and breaking the darker moments into something more playful.
The audience is kept on their toes, sometimes literally as we found ourselves partaking in an absurd spontaneous aerobics class. This isn’t a show where you sit and let the performers do the work; you are expected to bring your own energy to building the beat of this show. Literally. You’re given a DIY maraca and, working alongside the pulsing rhythm of Craig’s bass, the audience build up the melody of the show. Alongside the masterful use of synthesisers and instruments, the musical element is impressive in its own right, made even more special by the audience’s collaboration in the sound.
The show could certainly be described as indulgent, but this indulgence becomes increasingly meaningful throughout the show. It’s powerfully audacious. Every moment takes up space. Voices are raised and everything hidden is exposed. There is nothing suppressed, nothing delicate, and there is a triumph in that.
I have intentionally avoided describing the more unconventional moments of the show. If this is something you choose to see, the feeling of shock is important, because the central question being asked is one of shock. Why is it shocking? Who decreed that nudity, sexuality, and pleasure belongs behind closed doors? Betty Grumble effectively explores this question in a multitude of directions. This is truly a show where you leave the theatre and the world looks a little bit different.
Just when you think you’ve seen it all, in comes Betty Grumble, and she’s making good use of your attention.
Recommended Drink: Slippery Nipple Cocktail, because what else?
You can catch Betty Grumble’s Enemies of Grooviness Eat Sh!t at Upstairs at Assembly Roxy
from Aug 1-5, 7-11, 13-18, 20-24 at 21:15. Tickets are available through the EdFringe Online Box Office.
Jake Mace
Lamesha Ruddock
Jasmine Silk
