What can be said of a play that pre-empts every critique of it possible?
Wild Bore is liberatingly and ecstatically funny. A show that greets you with a wink… a wink from the arseholes of three women: Zoë Coombs Marr, Ursula Martinez and Adrienne Truscott. Bent over behind a white table with three mic stands upon it the women read aloud real reviews of their work, ‘or are they?’ The performance was just as questioning of itself as the critics were of them. Perhaps its ‘DRAMATURGICAL DESIGN’ they called aloud sarcastically, noting that in fact anything put on stage is there by design.
The critics were talking out of their arses, literally.
Sat on the upper balcony I could see the strain of standing with your arse in the air for minutes at a time; even more so when stretching your arms behind your back to light a cigarette and give your arsehole a drink of water. Outrageous laughter ensued of course, for even though, as Truscott observed, ‘opinions are like arseholes, everyone’s got one’, us British, colonial, Shakespeare lovies don’t like to think about our shit pipes.
‘Any resemblance to critics, living or dead, is purely intentional.’
The show delighted with naming and shaming journalists, sadly none of which I can recall but to many in the audience at Soho Theatre I’m sure they were known. The play felt powerful. A comment back upon a comment made, which has, due to this review and many like it resulted in another comment upon the comment back against the comment made. These kind of complicated and existentialist observations were part of the show, and made the show.
Wild Bore questioned theatre, but to the extreme… it was like watching Tim Crouch at a theatre discussion on steroids.
The trio critiqued critique, pointing out that submitting to reviewer’s opinions can lead to some very dull performances. Martinez recalled her trip to Tesco Metro after reading that a critic wanted to know more about the performer’s life, ‘I bought these paleo bars, one was goji berry and mango flavour and the other was cocoa nibs, which is really just chocolate.’ Sad music played as she revealed to us that she had left her spontaneous purchases on the counter. Certainly not wild, more a bore. Surprise, surprise, that person on stage is a human, with an arsehole, who shops at Tesco Metro like the rest of us sad gits.
As female creatives the three women touched on some of the issues of their sex. Being mentally undressed by co-workers, audience members and producers was one so they took matters into their own hands and performed a nude pop routine complete with bum headdresses. A transgender Asian actor, the self-proclaimed ‘ 4th character’ also performed naked, another liberating gesture as they, similarly to the female performers suffer from a “what’s in yer pants” attitude from peers.
Wild Bore was intuitive and hilarious, political and infantile, visual and conceptual. They were women who had something to say and it was riotously entertaining.
