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Showing posts with label Drugs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Drugs. Show all posts

Monday, 21 July 2014

Where are All the Girls Going? In Praise of A First World Problem at Theatre 503


Do you ever wonder what really goes on in a girls' boarding school? Milly Thomas's new play, A First World Problem answered many of these questions in its 10 day run at Theatre 503.


Maybe it was so good for me because I recognised it. I'd been in one of those girls' boarding schools. Aged 11-18, packaged up with tuck box and hockey stick and deposited in the premier Krug (mine was more like Waitrose own brand) of women's educative establishments. Actually, that's unfair because I asked to go, yearned to go after I had read endless Enid Blyton novels as a child and I was lucky enough to be able to. But I saw endless girls that had been packaged up and left and it does the most wondeful things to some and the most terrible to others. 



I'm not saying this is typical teenage life in the UK today, it's obviously not. However, what you see in this production is a slice of upper-middle-class adolescence, a tiny microcosm of how things are in the modern day teenage brain. It's Lord of the Flies with Oestrogen and St Trinian's with anal.
We're white, we're westerners, we're girls and we're rich, of course we're fucking miserable. The standards are just too fucking high for us to be anything else.
Firstly I would like to iterate that the script is wonderful. The playwright and star, Milly Thomas has captured the bite and humour of privileged teenage girls' speech in its rawest form. Like Alan Bennett's The History Boys, no word is futile, it's pacy , shocking and laugh-out-loud fucking hilarious. 


The three actresses played the six characters with finesse and real physicality. I believed Molly Vevers sexy, broken-down, student-touching history teacher, Steve so truly that I almost fancied him myself, certainly understanding why Hebe (Milly Thomas), the protagonist wanted him. 

The general premise is this, three friends at school in their final year going through the confusion and angst of teenage womanhood with a bucket load of money, top class education and a impending pressure to get into Oxford as they are their parents greatest "investment".


Issues covered along the way include drugs (mostly ketamine), eating disorders, self-harm, pornography (including woman's enjoyment of it), masturbation, anal-sex, the female orgasm, bullying, racism, casual snobbery, lesbianism, Sado-masochism, friendship, abuse, student-teacher relations, depression and relationships. Yet none of it is too much. The script is so good that it makes valid, lucid observations on these issues without the audience feeling like they've stepped into a lesson/government lecture/gangster film. It doesn't glamourise, it plays with words so that you accept these things as normal and yet asks questions about why this is. And it's so witty (did I mention that) yet warming and soft at the same time. 
HEBE: It's like anything here. You're totally allowed to be depressed, bulimic, clinically anxious, anorexic, addicted to pornography, a binge-eater or a self-harmer or a card-carrying member of the BNP, you're like, totally allowed to be those things, but you just can't talk about it. You've gotta just. Ssh. 
You can talk about it with, like, one person. Maybe two. But you're pushing your luck with that.
When I got here I remember wanting to tell someone that I was unhappy and I wanted to go home but I cottoned on quick. Thank fuck. Not like poor Amelia. She'd be great fun if her very skin didn't weep issues. You see her walking around with a tear stained face, lugging too many books around that she's not going to read, trying to make people laugh, with superficial scars all up her forearms and when I see them it doesn't make me feel sorry for her, it makes me want to shake her. Like, bitch, don't you think we're all fucking miserable?..Could you not cut yourself on the scalp or the tops of your thighs or inside your vagina where no one can see like the rest of us? How can one person be so selfish?

It would not surprise me if Milly Thomas went all the way as a playwright. Certainly if she writes as well on anything else as she does on this subject, she will go far. As someone who is trying to write a play myself, I yearn for her succinctness.


Overall, I was left feeling positive at the talent displayed. If this is what these schools have given the artists in this piece, then perhaps it is worth the aching pressure and damage at the time.

The increase of pornography as a sex manual is worrying, as is the confusion and insecurity clearly felt by some of these young women, but really is it just like any other enforced same sex small society. The bitches and bullies may rule for a bit, but eventually life and/or their own humanity/insecurity has a funny way of outing them. 

What most worries me is that these girl-women are in some of the most privileged positions our country offers and if this is what they are experiencing in terms of sexism and moral-confusion, I dread to think what may be rife in educational establishments of their much less privileged counter parts. 
HEBE: Maybe, it's not normal.
HUGO: What? Anal?
HEBE: At our age. Maybe, it's not normal.
I would finish with, watch out for any of Milly Thomas's future runs or work. She is extraordinarily talented and I hope A First World Problem gets a longer run in a larger venue, because I want more people to see it and I for one, would see it again. 

A First World Problem was at Theatre 503, Latchmere Road 

*Thanks to Milly Thomas for sending through the quotes

Thursday, 16 January 2014

Throwback Post 2: Kiss Me Kate... La Moss is 40

Kate Moss, aged 16

There are countless Kate's in the life of the historically, culturally and socially aware Brit. From Hepburn to Henry VIII's god-forsaken wives and the infamous Price. There's loadsa actresses Winslett, Blanchett, Beckinsale, Bosworth and Hudson. Artists and writers, Millet, Nash and Bush and of course our Royal Kate who's garnered the most recent headlines, the Duchess of Cambridge. 

But when you just say Kate. There's only one you ever mean: never complain, never explain, give-a-shit, face of a generation; style queen, hot-shit business woman, hedonist and purveyor of questionable men; it's Miss Moss.

Kate and Johnny

This Kate is 40 today and she's part of a throwback post because she's been around as long as I ever remember being interested in popular culture. I've grown up with her beauty, attitude and ridiculous sense of how to wear stuff. She's trotted through adverts and editorials since 1989, anyone who's anyone really...  Gucci, Burberry, D&GCalvin KleinChanelRimmel, Topshop, Bulgari... Freud's painted her, she's starred in a McCartney's video.

Kate, aged 28 - My age now so seems relevant..

She barely speaks publicly and yet she doesn't need to. Just a glimpse of her strut and that pout in the face of pursed-lipped prudes, cigarette dangling leisurely from her lips and she's adored the world over. Sometimes it's about an attitude, it's about making people - specifically girls and women - believe they can achieve what they want, even if they aren't perfect.

Pure Moss

A lot of the time the media hate her. Especially middle-England and obviously the Mail who seemingly hate all women. Sure Kate's fucked up a few times and made a few questionable choices, but she's never tried to justify herself and who doesn't make mistakes. She's been in the industry for 25 years and has remained a style icon throughout and she practically invented this generation's casual dress-code. As a business woman, she's made great decisions and powerful friends. So what if she still likes a party. 

Kate's more than beauty or style, she's an attitude. I love her. So here's some more pics in celebration. Here's to 40 more, Moss. 

Such a a canvas

16 Again

One of the most beautiful weddings ever...

Beauty

Starting the hot-pants and wellies trend

That dress, copied by teenage girls the world over and eventually by Kate for Topshop

Kate today, arriving at her 40th (c) Rex Features via Vogue.co.uk


Note: all images are (c) their creators and not mine.