We sat down for a chat with the founders of Prickly Ash Theatre about their latest project, Out of Character: a gangster story, retold through fanfiction, feminism, and fictosexuality – out of character, into voice, unapologetically imagined. You can buy tickets here.
How did you balance the intense emotional themes with playful fan creativity while designing the show’s multi-layered narrative?
On the surface, our work explores the seemingly lighthearted and playful subculture of fanfiction. But what we truly hope to engage with are the more complex questions that lie beneath: In ESEA societies, why are so many mainstream cultural productions, often rooted in patriarchal narratives, inspiring communities of emerging or non-professional female creators to gather and produce fanworks? What struggles do they face? And how do their creations simultaneously reflect both a submission to and a resistance against patriarchal storytelling?
It was precisely these contradictions and complexities that led us to think deeply about the tone and structure of the piece. In the end, we chose to approach this typically “light” subject matter with a more restrained, even emotionally heavy atmosphere. That subtle tension—where a sense of playfulness flickers beneath a layer of repression—feels, to us, closer to the lived reality of ESEA women navigating between the world as it is and the world as they imagine it.
If you could rewrite one iconic male-centric story through the lens of East and Southeast Asian female fandom, which would it be and why?
Gangster No.1 is a powerful candidate. Beneath its violent exterior, it’s a story about obsession, betrayal, and the collapse of a patriarchal value system. The protagonist rises by idolising and eventually overthrowing a gang leader he once admired—only to realise decades later that power has left him empty, while the former boss has chosen peace.
What fascinates many East and Southeast Asian female fans is the emotional tension between the two men. Director Paul McGuigan’s style leaves space for intimate, complex male relationships, which often inspires fans to reinterpret them as romantic or emotionally entangled.
There’s a stereotype that women only enjoy Disney-style perfect romances, but in truth, many women—especially those in East Asia—are emotionally attuned to complex narratives. Their sensitivity allows them to empathise with stories of obsession, longing, and moral ambiguity, which makes works like Gangster No.1 ripe for reimagining through their lens.
What unexpected challenges or surprises emerged when blending theatre, movement, and multimedia to portray fictosexuality and fan reinterpretation?
In the early stages of creation, we didn’t fully realise that fan culture, which is integrated into our daily lives, might still be an unfamiliar space for many audiences. We’re used to the creative logic of character reinterpretation and tonal shifts that are common in fanworks, so at first, we didn’t consciously emphasise the emotional and narrative contrasts between the “canon” and the “fanfiction.”
But through conversations with audiences, we came to understand that without clearly highlighting these distinctions, they could easily be misread as inconsistencies in the script. In fact, these contrasts are exactly what we want to foreground—they reflect how fan creators actively reshape original narratives as a way of questioning patriarchal structures and imagining alternative possibilities.
That’s why we have been, and continue to be, intentional in our use of projection, costume, set design, and performance—working to give each layer of creation its own distinct texture and rhythm. This process has been a valuable reflection for us, pushing us to consider: when a subculture we’ve long internalised enters a more open theatrical space, what kind of translation and contextual framing do we need to take responsibility for?
How does your multilingual ensemble influence the storytelling rhythm and the audience’s experience of shifting perspectives?
Language doesn’t just convey meaning—it reflects cultural mindset and emotional habits. Growing up in ESEA contexts, many of us are used to expressing emotion in ways that are subtle, indirect, or even distorted—like hiding affection behind distance or tension.
Switching to English, our second language, often shifts how we express these feelings. It lets us be more direct, but traces of restraint still remain. That tension—between intensity and distance, honesty and control—is central to both our performance style and the emotional world of many ESEA fanfiction creators.
Our multilingual approach brings that friction to life on stage, allowing the audience to feel the layered perspectives and dual identities that language so often reveals.
If the hyper-masculine gangster in your play had a secret fanfiction written by one of the performers, what would be the most surprising plot twist?
Let’s go all in on a Fight Club crossover: the shocking twist? The big, bad gangster empire isn’t fighting over drugs or guns—they’re fighting over… artisanal soap. Yep, handcrafted, probably organic, ethically questionable soap made from highly illegal ingredients.
Picture this: a tense all-male gangster roundtable, full of chest-thumping and cigar smoke. They scream, posture, and slap each other with metaphorical (and maybe literal) leather gloves. Zero emotional intelligence. Negative teamwork. Eventually, they all pull guns and go full Tarantino—blood everywhere.
Then, silence. A lone female janitor walks in, unfazed, and starts mopping up the gore with golden bricks of soap piled on the table, as if they were crown jewels. And just like that, the entire hyper-masculine tragedy is exposed for what it is: a petty, over-the-top fight over hygiene products.
Because these men think they want money or power—deep down, they want to feel clean and fresh. Clean from guilt, from ageing, from irrelevance. The soap becomes a symbol of their sad little dream to wash away their crimes and rebrand as “legit businessmen” in a new world that no longer needs them. Too bad the patriarchy doesn’t come with a rinse cycle