Review: THE MISANDRIST, Arcola Theatre

Misandry is defined as having feelings of hating men, the opposite of misogyny. Heartbroken or disgusted, we often say that we hate men. But not all men, no. Just the vast majority. Our fathers, our exes, the man on the bus who stared at our cleavage. The one who took advantage. The one who decided women are worth less. Playwright Lisa Carroll explores how the contemporary search for intimacy is marred by millennial malaise and trauma cycles in a witty dramedy with an unexplainable ambiguity in its ideology.

Rachel and Nick meet at a club during their work Christmas party. She hasn't had sex for over two years after her ex cheated on her. He is obviously interested in the one-night-stand she is offering. So, they start sleeping together and getting more kinky with each session. The writing is delightfully caustic and acerbic, with a distinctly millennial irony and a penchant for biting remarks, but the show is overlong and redundant, with gags that are often dragged out too much.

Underneath all the risqué topics and deadpan humour extorted from their sexual creativity, The Misandrist is another story of trauma. The problem is that the characters are one-dimensional caricatures who don't have much of a personality. Her whole identity revolves around the spiel of a woman hurt by her dating past and a long-term relationship that ended horribly. He is a "nice guy" who wants "normal, straightforward, passionless, expressionless, perfunctory sex". She uses kink as a coping mechanism, ordering him about in a sexy harness and strap-on while his attempts to open up end up in pegging.

Bethany Pitts directs with flair and resourcefulness, placing the action in a surreal spot that exists outside of space and time. She sets up a determined pace that's unceasingly entertaining and visually engaging. Designed by Cara Evans, the actors hover around a raised circular platform that becomes, in turn, a bed, a stage, anything the script needs. Behind them, enormous red curtains open to reveal a collection of dildos. It's unveiled for shock value, but in this day and age - with rumours of royal Kensingtonian pegging swirling in the press regularly before they're quickly and mysteriously stifled - the play doesn't hit the way it would have a decade (or less) ago.

Although flawed, Carroll's play portrays male vulnerability exceptionally well. Nicholas Armfield masterfully handles the quick changes in tone while his character's intimate revelations turn into ammunition for Rachel to use. His smooth malleability is matched by Elf Lyons's glacial stares and sentimental distance. She lights up when her obsession with pegging takes hold and her performance climaxes with a fiery tirade about why we hate men. It's a precise, political, unforgiving monologue that covers minor things like manspreading and pockets and grows to eulogise the never-ending battle for equality and condemn abuse. It's undoubtedly the highlight of the production.

There's a worrisome grey area, however, that doesn't consider the fact that if the roles were reversed and Rachel was a man, the plot would be perceived drastically differently. Carroll rejigs traditional dynamics. She toys with gaslighting and coercion, kink and pleasure, underlining it all with distinctive humour, but she goes too far and neglects the aftercare of the piece. Running at nearly two and a half hours, it's unnecessarily verbose and could easily become a snappy one-act. Regardless, there's plenty of good in Carroll's play, even though it's mostly offered with no explanation or follow-up.

She urgently hints at the critical necessity for consent, denounces emotional detachment, gives an example of the fallout of parental berating, and offers a sex-positive take on how damaging the lack of communication is. Ultimately, though, The Misandrist isn't as subversive or feminist as it thinks it is.

The Misandrist runs at the Arcola Theatre until 10 June.

Photo credit: Charles Flint Photography

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