Following last years sell-out run, Fat Blokes boomerangs back to HOME, Mcr with a big fat - we're here, we're queer and we're not going anywheer!!
Described as a 'sort of dance show about flab' there has been a lot of hype around this show. I knew I was going to watch a show about body image and prejudice; I'd guessed it would be brash and fun and loud, and it was, but it was also a hell of a lot more.
As I walk in to Theatre 2, loud music blared and the party has started. Two large bearded men in suits and socks stood on a red dance floor moving to the music and occasionally taking in the audience. The back wall of the stage was made upof big cardboard boxes and littered with fridges on the bottom level. The title of the piece 'Fat Blokes' projected on one box. A lone microphone stood stage left with vertical strip lights each side. The lights dimmed and the spot went on one of those fat blokes as he begins to strip to the beat. People started to whoop and clap and laugh... suddenly the music stopped, the lights came up and Scottee, the shows creator, asked us what we were laughing at.
From the very beginning of the show we were told we wouldn't be allowed to just sit back and observe these stories, we weren't here to laugh along with/at the fat guys. As Scottee got to know the 'demographic', he finally asked us to cheer if we are fat... and in that moment you could hear a pin drop. Scottee did however pinpoint the one whoop (which came as an afterthought). Scottee puts 'them', the outside world, out there (as he points outside the auditorium) inviting us to be here and present with these fat blokes. Then we watched Joe Spencer, the person, the performer, perform his strip again, us with new grateful eyes. Imagery, motifs, fierce moves and banging tunes meant this was defiantly a 'sort of dance show', it was emotionally physical.
With choreography by Lea Anderson, the movement aspect of the piece is what takes it to another level. In the playground dance sequence we see our first display of the simple synchronicity between these performers, they move as if no-one is there but as if they cannot move without each other. Monologues intersperse the physical movement. Each performer telling their experience of what it is to live in their body. In an hour and 10 minutes the show covers so much including class, eating in public, health, prejudice, discrimination, the thin pill, shame, attraction, sex and much more but the support and elegance of delivery doesn't make it feel littered. Grace and time is taken to let each point rest. The performers show a silent support for each other throughout the piece. There are supportive bear hugs, respectful nods, genuine laughter and heartfelt solidarity between them.
Communication is often reported as missing in today's male society. But here the accord was felt. With impeccable time and space around his story, Sam Buttery, took the microphone and told us the day the world went mad for him, a story of physical violence “for being fat”. He recalled singing “Anything Goes” on the streets of Soho, which he now replays for us with his melodic voice. His story brought me to tears. A genuine, honest, frank sharing from Buttery was the highlight of the show. This is a serious protest, an honest demonstration but is also a hell of a lot of fun to be part of.
Jen McGinley's set design gives us the red dance floor and I felt myself, many times, dancing along in my seat. But I'd like to iterate, these guys have got the moves. There was something so poignant in the bear grappling beauty of the duo dance between Asad Ullah and Sam Buttery, it was simply mesmerizing. Gez Mez performs his solo dance with precision and sharpness, a cheeky confidence shows he's definitely not a 'broken one'. The crudely named 'Shut The **** Up' dance got me shuffling in my seat with pride, the 'Thin Pill' dance and the 'Eating In Public' dance, as they make their choices whether to eat or take a pill depending on how they're feeling that day, in that moment. The dance which left them beheaded, faceless, anonymous bodies portrayed in the media. The finale dance seeing the guys, jiggling and bearing all, dancing happily and freely in their bodies with such pride.
These moves are what made this show. Fat Blokes is a splendiferous physical political protest, reclaiming the word fat, fat is no longer an insult because the Fat Blokes have shown us; fat is beautiful.
Reviewer - Cathy Shiel
on - 19/3/19
No comments:
Post a Comment