Review: KISS HER, Camden People's Theatre

In 1921, female homosexuality was discussed in Parliament for the very first time. Its male counterpart had its earliest outing in the 16th Century. There's only a four-century gap before the leaders of the country decided that women, after all, do not do certain things. Fast forward to our generation, lesbians need to have a specific look on screen while getting abused (read: nearly killed) on a bus.

When female intimacy is treated only in relation to how it affects men and their erotic fantasies, how can we blame academics when they'd rather remain in denial than accepting that historical figures were in a relationship and not only "close female friends"?

"I'm not scared of being visibly queer" that's how Jack The Lass's stunning play kiss her begins. Written by Elizabeth Auld and directed by Florrie McNish, it's a seething satire that turns into a resolute lesbian manifesto. Divided into chapters, the company - Emily Millwood, Grace MacDougall, Hana Kelly, Kayla McClellan, Leila Sweeney, Matilda Childs, Sojourner Hazelwood Connell, all so exquisitely in tune with one another - investigate the clichés and fears that are always associated with lesbianism.

The piece is thoroughly aware of homosexual women's identity and their representations in the media and public opinion, so it fills the gaps of the unspoken rather than echo the issues at the core. An author is given "the talk" about how her coming out might affect her position and sales, a professor talks about how Esther Roper and Eva Gore-Booth were just friends, a bunch of old men in power mumble about buggery, a straight white cisgender man leads a boardroom meeting about the 2019 Renault Clio advert, and many more hit the bullseye and expose the truth with a subtle and sophisticated delivery.

The choral touch gives the feeling of a close-knit community, strengthening the need of a women-supporting-women attitude. The show's also not without any comedy, and the company handles the sharp changes in tone flawlessly. Yes, they make their audience laugh, but doing so they highlight the absurdity and plain misogyny so often linked to WLW (that's women loving women, for the laymen who might be reading).

The more tender moments quench the thirst for a positive (and more lifelike) representation. The growth of a relationship from the first date all the way to buying a house done through voice-notes (a truly lovely and modern touch), as well as women owning themselves and dancing at the (now defunct) Gateways club in Chelsea, become a much-needed respite from the horrors that lie within the narrative.

In all this, the actors are dressed in such gorgeous costumes that mix and match eras while patterns and textures clash to indicate visually the ever-presence of the problems portrayed. Kiss her is a politically charged satire, but also a carefully constructed and poignant visual feast.

Kiss her runs at Camden People's Theatre until 29 August as part of Camden Fringe.

To post a comment, you must register and login.