'This Week' 04 May 2003

Shocking truths

Actinghouse Productions’ Fat Men in Skirts by Nicky Silver, direction Cornelia Crombholz. Reviewed by Zillah Bugeja

Never for an instant was Irene Christ out of role. Her German accent didn’t jar as the voice of whining Phyllis Hogan possibly because she was reminiscent of a Marlene Dietrich type that is still very much a part of our memory. Her performance was excellent.

Alan Paris went straight from stuttering young boy (Bishop) to swearing madman in one amazing leap of evolution. His anger was so realistic that it was threatening – you hoped he wouldn’t turn to address you as he leaped and sweated and swore like a monkey in a cage.

Edward Mercieca and Pia Zammit were fine, although the audience needs to work hard to disassociate them both from their panto personas. These last two actors play the father (Howard Hogan) and the mistress (Pam) as well as the psychiatrist and an inmate at the asylum. It serves to underline parallels between personalities from different walks of life: the absent father is replaced by an inquisitor who has power over the son. The porn actress who is paid to please, is just like the cheer-leader who lost her mind after being nice. Everyone gets off on being nice, so that they can be accepted, till it drives them insane.

Set design is by Zvezdan Reljic. The stage is a square pine box, reminiscent of a boxing rink and a poor man’s coffin. If you’re in the front row, you’ll get quite close and personal with Paris as he uses the frame to great effect. The intimacy of the theatre has a lot to do with your involvement in the play, which is well directed to include the audience in all directions. At this proximity, the clothes by Yasmina Reljic are used to full effect as props, where you are aware of every new tear, every splatter of blood. The actors’ clothes degenerate as they degenerate mentally. I felt that Pia’s costume didn’t ring true. It was neither sexy enough nor flirty enough.

The floor of the stage is foam strewn with sawdust, which makes for jerked, irregular movements throughout. It works not only for the beach scene, but also for the indoor scenes. These are characters wobbling through life and decisions, never quite sure underfoot.

Props are minimal throughout. Life comes down to its bare essentials, nuts and bolts stuff. The lunatic asylum is depicted by a torn chair, and folding-bed without even a mattress. The beach scene uses bits of the aeroplane fuselage, while the porn actress’s house has square foam seats, a chequered rug and transparent table, playing on the square motif. Our lives are bordered by the walls we ourselves create.

During intermission, you’ll notice a monitor outside the theatre on which a pseudo-news programme is being broadcast. It shows the mother and son in the airport on their return home. If you miss this bit, you won’t lose out, but it’s an unexpected bit of fun.

The theme of incest is not depicted distastefully, although the acts of cannibalism could be shocking. Still, you know it’s all cranberry sauce and papier maché, and its dark humour ensures that it doesn’t get unbearably heavy. The fact that people have walked out only goes to show how realistic the play is.

Fat Men in Skirts was worth it. I enjoyed it immensely. If you’d be more comfortable away from the gore, I’d suggest you buy a ticket for the upstairs seats.

Cast: Alan Paris, Irene Christ, Edward Mercieca, Pia Zammit

Directed by: Cornelia Crombholz