Skillfully told story of a menopausal woman’s journey to climate activism
We’re in The Glitch basement space. In its early days it was but a narrow corner in a basement, now turned into a nice open space with beautiful brick walls and surprising capacity. It is good to see a relatively new fringe space flourish. It is good to see new work happening. It is particularly good to see new work where the protagonist is a woman over 50.
Justine Stops Oil is the story of a mundane middle-class, middle-aged woman whose life consists of accounting for her husband’s business, eating curries and mostly not having orgasms. Her 30-year marriage is nicely described through statistics, and we learn that though they have made love over 500 times Justine has only had 38 orgasms.
When her adopted daughter, now all grown-up, comes home pregnant, Justine becomes increasingly preoccupied by reports on climate change. The more she learns, the more she becomes a “good consumer” using budgeting as an excuse to deprive her internet trolling husband of meat-eating, charter flights and heating.
After secretly battling her husband on online forums under made-up accounts, and shouting in the botoxed face of her only, and disappointing, friend “Everything is fucked Lorraine!!”, Justine realises she needs to do more. She joins a group of Just Stop Oil activists, or “knitting for menopausal women” as far as her husband is concerned. There she meets sultry Scotswoman Kate McIntyre, whose very presence suggests that she could top Justine’s previous orgasm score in just one night.
Lehla Eldrige uses the space dynamically, painting each situation with precision, seamlessly switching characters. Though Eldrige occasionally gets stuck in sentimentality, missing out on opportunities to dig deeper into Justine’s strength, she is a skillful storyteller. Her depiction of Kate McIntyre is particularly delightful.
Louis Catliff’s writing offers detailed imagery, plenty of humour and a playful mix of poetic devices. However, the text doesn’t quite land in a coherent concept and the story is rather predictable (there are at least three endings, none of which are surprising) with some plot points being skirted over. Specifically, a heavily seeded relationship between Justine and McIntyre gets mysteriously dropped two thirds in, leaving both Justine and the audience quite unsatisfied.
Still, Sam Holland-Bunyan’s direction makes the most of the space. Tabby Bunyan’s sparse design is effective, and it is theatre at its best when the simple unzipping and zipping of a boiler suit contains a whole evening of wine drinking followed by instant regret. Isabela Ornelas’ lighting is nicely expressive, with the sound occasionally being a bit on the nose.
The piece doesn’t quite reach its full potential and though the ideas are all there, there is more challenge, depth and complexity to find. For now, you are in for some belly laughs and a good story well-told including a couple of brief, but genuinely arresting moments. A particular scene on a motorway stops my breath and time itself. I leave wanting more passion, more protest and more orgasms for 50-plus female protagonists.