E. Crowley’s debut play, {RIB}CAGE, is a powerful, heartbreaking protest for the right to self-articulation against a political climate that attempts to silence queer voices.
Lulling in the stupor of the morning after, Beautiful (Flossie Adrian) and Darling (H Sneyd) wake up in bed together in a messy NYC apartment with only dry throats and hazy memories offering clues to the events of the last twenty-four hours. The bed is Gale’s, but Gale is absent, remaining perpetually in the kitchen – an absurdist detail that situates {RIB}CAGE clearly amongst Beckett-esque influences. Yet, Beautiful’s preoccupation with a crossword soon evolves into the pained discovery of yet another instance of queer erasure in the news, hurtling the play pertinently into our present political climate.
As Beautiful exclaims that the ‘T’ has been removed from an article debating LGBTQ+ rights, then reads out an instance of bi-phobia in the next column, Darling responds with a sardonic game of letter robbing. The pair’s dialogue quickly erodes into gibberish, policed by Darling’s witty rules – we watch, stunned, as the right to self expression disintegrates in real time. Throughout, Crowley’s script handles wordplay and metaphor extremely gracefully, allowing several moments of humorous yet arresting symbolic resonance to creep up on unsuspecting audiences. Under their skillful direction, assisted by Eva Sharkey, the tone of this two-hander is balanced masterfully as Adrian’s moving portrayal of wide-eyed sincerity is offset by Sneyd’s highly comic, playful flirtation. Both performers are magnetic, sharing impressive synergy through their stolen glances and wry smiles, maximising on the intimacy of the Black Box theatre by drawing us confidently into their early morning reverie.
However, this reverie is punctured by an inability to keep the headlines out of their bed. After a few coquettish cycles of Darling’s offer, ‘we can go again if you like’, the couple realise they cannot hide in the transitory state of the morning after forever. They begin to desire each other’s names as well as their bodies, yet Crowley clearly emphasises the difficulty of self-articulation when the status of your existence, or even your existence itself, is contested. Compelled to speak yet unsure of what language still remains theirs, each character attempts to reveal their relationship with naming and identity, offering breathtaking monologues that ensure the play’s flirty, drunken opening gradually sobers up.
This shift in tone is elevated by Finlay Wyer and Scarlett Clegg’s gorgeous technical design, quite literally blowing the walls off the piece by flooding the Black Box’s backstage area with harsh red lights, exposing the pipes and rigs holding up the theatre as a siren sound whooshes past. This image is a sharp call to action, highlighting the status of LGBTQ+ rights as in a state of emergency as homophobic politics invade queer bodies and expression just as this technical spectacle uproots and invades the stage. {RIB}CAGE’s suddenly heartwrenching tone is clinched as Darling, now alone in the bed, makes a call to the 988 suicide and crisis hotline which has recently had its LGBTQ+ youth specialised services culled under Trump’s legislation. Having read this event in the news not long ago, watching Sneyd’s stirring performance as they are shocked into silence by the loss of a lifeline and feel unable to answer the new call-operator’s insistent question ‘what’s your name?’, I was similarly reduced to tearful speechlessness.
While absolutely doing justice to the severity of its content matter, {RIB}CAGE’s reaches hopeful resolution, as Beautiful and Darling persist in speaking their experiences aloud and finding solace and queer joy in each other’s company. Crowley’s vision, supported by an outstanding cast and production team that prioritises queer voices, demands that neither queer identities or their place upon the stage are denied. {RIB}CAGE finds the perfect middle ground between tenderly representing specific queer experiences whilst still remaining an enormously affecting and impressive watch for any audience member. I urge you to catch this gorgeous show before the end of its run and sincerely hope this debut play will continue being retold and developed in our theatres for many years to come.
{RIB}CAGE runs from the 19th – 21st of February at the Fitzpatrick Hall Black Box studio theatre, Cambridge.