I've been aware of Bryony Kimmings for a number of years. The buzz around her performances have left me excited to see her work. This evening, in the newly restored Grand Hall at the Battersea Arts Centre, an event so extraordinary occurred that I was left breathless, inspired and moved.
In 2015, Bryony Kimmings and her then boyfriend moved to the wilds of deepest, darkest Oxfordshire to a little cottage on a hill. This new home started as an idyllic haven for the young couple but the stream at the bottom of the garden often swelled and cut the cottage off which compounded to the isolation and the pretty dwelling soon became a watery tomb which Kimmings could not seem to escape from.
The birth of their baby boy was a welcome addition to the family until one day, Kimmings' son began to have fits. The health of the baby was so severe - endless trips to the hospital for tests, prescription of a multitude of drugs, that it was too painful for the couple to continue together. The strain first tore them apart, then Kimmings herself. Left alone with her son, the paper thin line between the sane and insane, the real and imagined, the well and unwell is something Kimmings explores head on with fierce integrity and bravery.
The show, told through monologue, video projection, audio recordings and song ('I'm a cabaret artists, really', Kimmings explains) is a raw examination of physical and mental hell and how to come back from it. Kimmings' work is always autobiographical. She explains she doesn't find fiction particularly interesting and although often painful to watch the unfolding and unravelling of a woman; a mother at the edges of sanity, Kimmings informs the audience that it's all going to be all right.
In the enlightening Q&A after the show, Kimmings name checks all her team who work to create her shows and freely admits it's a team effort. Will Duke provides the breathtaking projections for the piece, while designer, David Curtis-Ring adds a set that frames the storytelling perfectly. Her co-composer, Tom Parkinson has created the musical flourishes to the piece and co-direction is skilfully handled by Kirsty Housley.
I've always thought the best people in the world are collaborators. Bryony Kimmings is indeed one of these very best people and her work is extraordinary. This collaborative work-ethic means that the show is a rounded, satisfying experience. I'm a Phoenix, Bitch is a layered, complex and funny feast for the eyes, and the soul, I suppose. I've never seen anything quite like it. I might go again.
Aptly, in a Grand Hall that nearly burned to the ground a couple of years back, this Phoenix rises from its ashes and soars. We don't give star ratings, but if we did, then this would be a 5!
Reviewer - Lucia Cox
on - 22/2/19
No comments:
Post a Comment