Enter the sweaty world of the involuntary Celibate.
After much success at the Edinburgh Fringe, The Pleasance Theatre welcomes the London premiere of The Last Incel. Written and directed by Jamie Sykes, this Irish dark comedy explores the inner sanctum of the involuntary celibate: the internet. Incels have been a topic of interest for quite some years now, their ideology is blamed for inspiring mass shooters and espousing fascist propaganda. One could argue that their playbook has been specially examined by certain political advisors across the pond. Journalist Rebecca Shaw perhaps summed it up best in January this year with the headline “I knew one day I’d have to watch powerful men burn the world down — I just didn’t expect them to be such losers”.
The action takes place in a Zoom chat room that’s been accidentally infiltrated by a woman — that’s public enemy number one to an incel. What follows is a long debate concerning incel culture and their genesis. The incels argue they are the product of an unloving, superficial world — making the existence of such a fraternal community all the more ironic. Sykes succeeds in pressing the nerve of the viewer with the all too real hypocrisies of incel culture while not allowing us to excuse their humanity entirely.
The acting chops are impressive among the sweaty quartet, each of whom fits their own little niche. Fiachra Corkery’s dim-witted puppy dog energy is a particularly welcome foil to Jackson Ryan’s intensity as the nihilistic ringleader of the gang. Jimmy Kavanagh, whose ascension to his thirties marks an upgrade to the ‘wizard’ tier in the incel world, is hilarious in his prudish affectations and wimpish recoils from Justine Stafford’s scorn. A real highlight comes from Goblins Goblins Goblins, slimy and vampiric but incredibly awkward, perpetually hissing at the normies of the world.
While undoubtedly comedically astute, the ricochet between the funny and the dark can be awkward at times. There are some beautifully prosaic moments detailing the aching loneliness and earnest desires of the incels, Sykes displays a clear talent for Plathian despair. These monologues however only occasionally flow with the rest of the play and often seem to ride against the grain. Other moments that play into a spoken word fringiness thankfully maintain an arm’s length approach to full-blown earnestness, looking more like a particularly bad social studies theatre assignment — I mean this in the best way possible.
There is still room for thought amongst the parody however. While undoubtedly the rise of the incel has contributed to some pretty concerning elements of the current political discourse, Sykes doesn’t seek to entirely dismiss the group. What drives one to this behaviour? How truly involuntary is an involuntary celibate? The idea of escape and deprogramming is particularly explored, as the vulnerability within an aggressor. Difficult conversations are to be had, no doubt, and thankfully The Last Incel is a more than capable means of instigating them.