A one-woman show with a lot of heart, a pin-drop performance and writing that tears you apart and stitches you up anew
Getting settled into The Cockpit theatre for their monthly evening of new writing, giving their promenade stage over to exciting new pieces of work on the first Sunday of every month. The audience was filled with either family, friends or new writing enthusiasts, waiting eagerly for the fresh and exciting theatre they were about to be encompassed by for the next hour or so. Squidge by Tiggy Bayley did more then encompass. It moved, it played, it made you rise and fall on an emotional scope that I haven’t experienced in a long time in the theatre, and is a testament to the acting and writing.
A one woman show, with a very unique spin. I have grown largely accustomed to seeing one woman plays dealing largely with themes of break up, men-hating, mental breakdowns… need I go on! As much as I find this incredibly satisfying and entertaining to watch, Squidge has something different to offer.
The 50 minute piece followed the story of a teaching assistant dealing with grief after losing her younger brother to an overdose. She is desperately trying to keep all the pieces of her together, and turn up for the children she spends every day with. However, she is crumbling away inside, drowning in anxiety and panic attacks, trying to knit her soul back together and survive the immense grief that is consuming her (with the help of wanking and a plumber she met near the time of her brothers death).
The set was simple… a red chair which was sized for a child of around 5 or 6, which really helped with the physicality when the actress embodies the children involved in the story.
The world was created solely by the actress on stage. It was a breath taking performance. With the aid of pre-recorded audio, children’s laughter, screaming and tantrums which echoed through the theatre during the transitions, helping to move the piece along beautifully, further painted the picture and created the school environment we were sucked into. The actress took on many different characters during the piece, including her distant mother and the child she was assisting, who she later finds out is also going through extreme grief.
The story was told with a juvenile, innocent angle, which made the darkness seep through with even more gravitas. Her character creation was a delight to watch – the hidden loneliness and grief was simmering underneath the youthful playfulness of the character, so much so, that when the bomb dropped that her brother had in fact passed, you couldn’t hear a pin drop.
The use of audience interaction was tasteful, and served the story. The full circle nature of the piece tied it up well, and left the audience wanting more. The actress transitioned from character to character with such ease, adopting a different physicality and accent for each one. The performance was precise, nuanced and completely loveable.
I am very excited to see what the future holds for Squidge.