Stockdale bares it all – literally’
Northern, female, fat. Rachel Stockdale’s recounting of a life as a person who is all three of these things, while also trying to make it in the theatre industry is a poignant, punchy piece with a beautiful message.
We are greeted into the space by the dulcet tones of an early noughties playlist. We look upon a scene of domestic comfort– generic couch, generic rug, generic lamp. But some other set dressings peak our interest – a wedding dress, glittering on a mannequin, and three white screens illuminated by a projector. Soon, Rachel – our gutsy heroine – enters the scene. She is scantily clad, singing along to Def Leppard’s ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’, suggestively covering herself with empty Quality Street sweet packets. She lets us know that she’s meant to be heading to a wedding, but can’t find anything she wants to wear. So, instead, she sends her husband (portrayed by the generic lamp from which a disembodied Geordie voice emerges) out for her favourite comfort food, and begins her story.
Stockdale’s writing is extremely strong, swinging from frank monologues to the audience to sharply designed projections – her weight in relation to different events in her life; photos from her adolescence; and confronting examples of fatphobic media. Under Jonluke McKie’s direction Stockdale careens through the difficulties she faced while trying to pursue her dream of acting, while still maintaining an incredible connection with the audience, and balances both the humour and the tragedy of the piece very well.
Peppered among the story are original songs telling of a working-class upbringing in Middlesborough; drama clubs, WKD’s in the park, and plenty of fad diets. While Stockdale’s energy is infectious, these songs occasionally cause the narrative to drag. I found their messages very moving, but the rest of Stockdale’s writing is far more compelling. I was particularly impressed by how the piece handled the politics of Stockdale’s identity with great dexterity. What starts as a love letter to her adolescence, and to theatre, eventually becomes a love letter to herself in her journey to self-acceptance. Stockdale bares it all – literally – as all her emotional culminates in the climatic monologue in which she is trying on wedding dresses. Her honesty is raw and real.
With a charming appearance from stage manager Kylie Ann Ford, slick sound design by Roma Yagnik, and impressive projections by Chris Allan, Fat Chance is clearly a labour of love – of six years, as Stockdale tells us. And, as she lets us know that once this run is over she will free for work – and passes out resumes to boot – I can only hope that someone will take her up on it.