Frankenstein meets Killing Eve meets something entirely shocking and new in this addictively horrifying tale of obsession and destruction
Issy Flower’s surprising piece of new writing was a highly successful debut, forming a confident and tantalising opening to Oxford’s Burton Taylor studio’s first ever Queer Fest. The intimate black box theatre was transformed into a sparsely furnished flat, shrouded in clinical plastic coverings, an atmosphere heightened by the open copy of Grey’s Anatomy.
Ellis Jupiter was immediately intriguing as our elusive and scathingly sarcastic protagonist, Vic. They were stunning to watch, dressed as if plucked from the 1970’s goth scene and basking in mystery as they teased the audience with the menial details of routine nights out clubbing. Yet, this strange opening soon snapped into the visceral and grotesque when a hookup descended into a meticulously planned murder. While Jupiter performed alone, Flower’s elegant writing style employed descriptions as precise as the dissections taking place on stage, ensuring our imaginations could feed on this vivid imagery to create the other characters too. There was a palpable sense of disgust as Vic spoke with hunger and admiration about the impossible perfection of their date’s left forearm, before violently cutting it off and discarding the body’s remains. Yet, throughout, the unusual imagery was well balanced with purposeful storytelling, ensuring that the play never slipped into needless repulsion.
We soon realise Vic’s murders are not sporadic, but rather stem from an avaricious need to reconstruct the corpse of their dead girlfriend, Liz. Flower subtly raises questions around the objectification of the female body, while also exploring the torturous desire to rebuild an old love when it has irreparably passed. Vic becomes increasingly distressed and ruminative throughout, dropping their suave persona to give us a sensitive insight into the mind of a grieving killer. The unpredictable plot continually impressed, featuring intense graveyard scenes that could compete with the likes of Saltburn and Dracula, but were executed with unique empathy under Saskia Kraftowitz’s skilful direction.
The one act form suited this piece well, and the pace built masterfully, retaining engagement at all times. The addition of a second actor playing Vic’s friend in a flashback to Liz’s funeral provided an interesting counterpoint to a piece otherwise streamlined through Vic’s own delusion and denial. This forced us to further question their reliability and wonder if they were perhaps responsible for Liz’s death, changing the way this idolised relationship was portrayed. A stand out moment which really conveyed the play’s intention was a vulnerable and emotive monologue from Vic, attempting to explain their cataclysmic reaction to Liz’s death. We understand that, once Liz’s physical body is buried, there is no trace of their secret and sidelined relationship – no one knew how much Vic really loved her. Having to exist only in the shadows is a tragic reality for many queer relationships so while many aspects of the show summoned curious intrigue, this was brilliantly personal and immediate.
This forthright and often cold piece forced the audience to confront uncomfortable realities and had a unique voice that would certainly fill a gap in today’s theatre scene. I feel grateful to have seen it in the early days of a rehearsed reading, and am eager to see it flourish with further development. It made me sure that Queer Fest would be studded with exciting new creatives – I hope this is a festival that will earn a permanent place in Oxford’s theatre scene.