Ash Strain
Soho, 1977. 200 miles north, the Yorkshire Ripper is on the prowl, and women all over the country are being encouraged – and in some areas required by law – to get themselves home before dark. Venus Rising’s Damn the Dark explores the trials and tribulations of five young people who patronise and staff a local discotheque, from the mundane (whether or not punk-lover Kim should be able to play the new Sex Pistols record on a Friday night) to the monumental (whether tonight will be the night one of them doesn’t make it home). We see 1977 through the eyes of nurse-in-training and part-time barmaid Jean, aspiring journalist Layla, proto-riot grrrl Kim, disco-obsessed Margot, and Jean’s brother Derek, each trying to follow their dreams against a backdrop of rising political turmoil and second-wave feminism, underscored by a rapidly-changing soundtrack of DJ-spun tunes.
The immersive and intimate discotheque ambience is set well with lighting and sound, and lots of thought has clearly been put into demonstrating each character’s unique style through costume, from rebellious Kim’s DIY band t-shirts and tartan skirts to girly Layla’s knee-high boots and sparkly party dresses. The script contained great moments of comedy, but didn’t shy away from difficult topics, particularly with regards to Layla’s experience with assault and resulting pregnancy scare. I am always a fan of plays which focus in on between-the-scenes vignettes like these, and the interpersonal relationships between each character felt believable and well-developed.
Each member of the cast had some strong moments, though the standout performance came from Hannah Reid as Gogo dancer and disco devotee Margot. To my knowledge, as well as choreographing the show’s dance routines, Reid had previously performed the role of aspiring housewife Daphne (Derek in this iteration), but she’s so perfectly cast as the sardonic, politically-minded Margot that it’s difficult to imagine her performing any other part. In particular, the monologue Reid delivered revering and mourning the demise of disco was delivered with moving sincerity, and it was great to see a softer, more sisterly side of her performance come out in Margot’s conversations with unexpectedly pregnant Layla (her fantastic green jumpsuit was also a huge highlight, and I must find out where Reid got it from).
The play does have some shortcomings – there were inconsistencies in time and place with regards to the music played in the discotheque (although this is really only as noticeable as it is because of the significance of music within the play), and a couple of male actors whose only roles were to come onstage, move in sharklike circles and deliver a venomous ‘alright, sugar tits?’ to a female character (usually poor Layla) felt fairly redundant (although they did deliver the lines well). The immersive nature of treating the audience as discotheque patrons was effective in places, namely night-shift nurse Jean’s Alan Bennett-esque soliloquy delivered in the midst of a last-call clearup, but it would’ve been good to see this utilised more consistently throughout.
Overall, this is a well-researched play with clear effort paid to telling the stories of the women who have inspired it, with a cracking soundtrack and five empathetic and well-rounded characters. I hope Venus Rising will continue to develop this piece in the future, and that the company will be given another opportunity to perform the play on-location as with their Cambridge run, as Damn the Dark is a needed voice in today’s political climate, and Venus Rising is an emerging company I hope to see more from in future years, at the Fringe and beyond.
Recommended drink: A crisp pint of whatever’s on tap!
Damn the Dark has concluded its Fringe run, but keep an eye out for whatever Venus Rising does next.
Jasmine Silk
Phoebe Bakker
Lamesha Ruddock
