Eve Miller
Content warnings: Sexism, sexual violence and victim blaming. Trauma. Alcoholism. Transphobia.
BITCH is a darkly theatrical cabaret-drag play, combining music, movement, and stand-up with an electrifying performance examining trauma, sexuality, and gender.
The performance begins with the bitch in question crashing an open mic night to perform disquieting and accusatory songs on the piano, intercut with stand-up comedy by, as we later learn, her ex-boyfriend. Each character is portrayed by writer/composer/performer/genius Marty Breen, who dons a backwards cap for the stand-up, and a pink lacy cape for the cabaret, the transformation aided by some lighting and makeup trickery which reveals a beard and bushy eyebrows under blue light, and eyeliner and lipstick under pink. They talk gender roles, questioning sexuality and gender identity, and everyday sexism.
BITCH does not shy away from making the audience feel uncomfortable. In fact, it relishes in it, baiting us into laughing at the stand-up before pulling the rug out from under us and letting our stomachs drop. Because he’s likeable. Charming. He laughed and we laughed along even when he said things that, upon reflection, clued us into his potential for violence far before any incident took place. And so the whole audience becomes complicit in the creation of a bitch, as trauma swirls around Breen’s character, reshaping their identity.
And so Breen makes their point – BITCH is what we call “difficult women” (and those that society views as women). But often, “difficult” is defence, it’s instinct, it’s survival of the fittest. And it’s hard to be socialised as a girl and a woman without being affected by systemic patriarchy and rape culture, without growing a bitch inside that has the capacity to bite your head off, and the heads of others caught in the exact same system as you. We can all be bitches, but it’s our responsibility to avoid internalising it and weaponising these systems of control against ourselves and one another. This message comes through clear as a bell, somehow avoiding becoming preachy or patronising, and resolving the internalised misogyny and victim blaming firmly with both precision and compassion.
An intricate dissection of trauma and its impact on identity, this production manages to sucker-punch you with truths that, as your head is reeling, you realise they’ve been drip-feeding you all along. Breen delivers an agonizing, savage, and consistently charismatic performance, delving into depths of trauma with determination and verve, grimly driving the production to its conclusion. Each aspect of the technical, prop, costume and makeup design work in perfect synchronicity to support this world-class performance, with simplicity and intelligent design.
This production was very hard to watch, and even harder to put into words. But often when something is hard, it is important. BITCH is an important, affecting, and ultimately hopeful piece of theatre that will undoubtedly live in my mind for a long time to come.
You can catch BITCH at Jack Dome at Pleasance Dome from 30th July to 25th August (not 11th or 18th) at 14:45 (65 mins). Tickets are available through the EdFringe Online Box Office.
Jake Mace
Lamesha Ruddock
Jasmine Silk
