LONDON CITY NIGHTS: transgender

Friday, July 29, 2016

'Rotterdam' at Trafalgar Studios, 28th July 2016

Friday, July 29, 2016 - by londoncitynights · - 0 Comments

Rotterdam sucks. Granted, that's mainly because the Nazis dropped 1,300 bombs on it in one night. With its medieval city centre wiped off the face of the earth, the way was paved for a present of anony-corporate skyscrapers, shopping centres as far as the eye can see and a clawing vacuum where a personality should be. With Utrecht and Amsterdam only forty minutes away by train, why would anyone stay in Rotterdam?

This is the thorny question facing Rotterdam's characters, each of whom is trapped there in a sadistic social and romantic oubliette of their own devising. The core are Alice (Alice McCarthy) and Fiona (Anna Martine), two British women who're deeply in love. Along for the ride is Josh (Ed Eales-White), Fiona's older brother. Complicating matters is that Alice came to Rotterdam as Josh's girlfriend, but was immediately smitten on meeting his sister, who subsequently moved over.

In the opening scene, Fiona throws a bomb into this dynamic. She explains that she's always felt like a man in a woman's body and is planning to undergo a gender transition. Henceforth she will be known as Adrian. With her once-girlfriend looking and behaving ever more masculine, Alice is in a bind. If she's a lesbian but her girlfriend is now a man, does that make her heterosexual? If she's in love with Fiona, does that mean she's automatically in love with Adrian?

The situation proves quite the pickle, compounded by the arrival of the hyper-neon, ultracool 21 year old Dutch lesbian Lelani (Jessica Clarke), who oozes the feminine sexuality that Alice feels deprived of.

It's a plot set-up that never feels remotely contrived, and no doubt analogues of this situation have taken place in countless hetero/homo relationships - be it a woman explaining her need to live as a man or vice versa. Playwright Jon Brittain displays a reassuringly extensive knowledge of trans issues, from the physical and emotional effects of the person undergoing transition to the reactions of those around them.

These days its trendy (almost cliche) to state that gender is performative. In an ideal world Fiona's transition into Adrian is just be someone donning a set of gender signifiers that tessellate better with their psychology. Rotterdam explains that it's not as simple as that; coming from the angle that Fiona is essentially dead after the transition and that there's a new person, Adrian, in her place. Sure Adrian looks similar to Fiona, has the same memories and same basic personality, but they're quintessentially not the same person.

No-one envies Alice having to deal with this - her fears communicated in powerful monologues where she bemoans the social pressure to be tolerant and supportive of people expressing their true gender identity (despite any knock-on emotional consequences for you), worries about whether she can be attracted to a man and angrily reacts to her own sexual identity being redefined without her consent. When the play grapples with these questions about gender, identity and sexuality, it's effective, intelligent and dead serious.

Mercifully, the rest of the time it's goddamn hilarious. Generally maintaining a sharply comic tone, there's at least five or six humongous gags that go off like a rocket. It's always a good sign when your actors have to pause for a moment before delivering their next line to wait for the audience to stop laughing. Some of these come from the more straightforwardly comic characters of Lelani and Josh, both gentle caricatures that bustle on the borders of the core relationship. Some simply arise without a punchline, as the audience collectively figures something out and laughs that they hadn't noticed it before. It's rare to see a comedy this finely balanced - script and performances polished until they shimmer.

All four actors turn in carefully judged performances. Jessica Clark's Lelani injects a jolt of manic energy whenever she appears. Ed Eales-White's Josh is wry but shows a heart a mile wide, quietly suppressing his own feelings in order to support two women he deeply cares for.

In Alice, Alice McCarthy gives us a fully rounded performance, her stress, confusion and general emotional exhaustion combining to make a relatable, likeable woman. I was sat in the front row, getting to see her performance close-up (so close she actually kicked me in the knee). I particularly enjoyed her obvious frustration that her own mini-drama (struggling to come out to her parents) is ridden over roughshod by the more attention-grabbing gender transition.

But you've got to single out Anna Martine's boldly aggressive, intensely vulnerable Fiona/Adrian. A striking physical presence from the get go, she moves with a nervy electricity that makes her happiness infectious and her despair crush like a mace. As the effects of transition take hold, her behaviour subtly shifts towards what initially feels like a caricature of masculinity, toying with audience sympathies. These tectonic character shifts are the fulcrum on which Rotterdam turns: it's difficult to imagine the character being done better than this.

My only criticisms are a couple of overly didactic conversations that have a tinge of being transplanted from books/articles encountered during research and an ending that didn't quite stick the landing. It nearly did, but for me something frustratingly indefinable felt off.

Still, by any standards this is a marvellous piece of drama. I was gutted to miss it at it's original run in Theatre503 and pleased when I heard of this (entirely deserving) West End transfer. Rotterdam is the kind of drama that people will look back on in years to come: neatly encapsulating the explosion of identity malleability that've marked sexuality in the 2010s. All but essential.

★★★★

Rotterdam is at Trafalgar Studios until 27 August. Tickets here.

Thursday, July 30, 2015

'Jekyll & Hyde' at the Platform Theatre, 29th July 2015

Thursday, July 30, 2015 - by londoncitynights · - 0 Comments

Robert Louis Stevenson's Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde is a surprisingly tricky work to adapt. The core concept of split personalities and grotesque physical transformations is malleable, but the original work comes burdened with the milquetoast protagonist Gabriel Utterson, through whose eyes we investigate what's going on with the mysterious doctor and his violent relative.

As a loose rule, productions that focus on the titular Doctor tend to work, those that focus Utterson end up suffocated by stuffy Victorian melodrama. Ominously, Chung Ying's production, directed by Jonathan Holloway, features great heaping lumps of Utterson. But there's a twist. See, Dr Jekyll is a woman and Mr Hyde is a man.

A dollop of genderfuckery tossed into the story makes for a tantalising prospect. The conceit is that Jekyll (Olivia Winteringham) is an Eastern European genius scientist. After experiencing horrific trauma during a distant war she escapes to London, vowing that she will never experience such atrocity again. To this end she begins a series of self-administered chemical and surgical treatments designed to banish her femininity and replace it with thrusting, forthright and rapacious masculinity. Enter Mr Hyde. What follows is a warped love affair between the eccentric Jekyll and somewhat short-sighted Utterson (Michael Edwards). As the months tick by the mental and physical transformations grow ever more severe, the crazed alpha male Hyde running rampant.

The 'mad scientist' brand of lab coat.

You'd be forgiven for assuming that this sounds pretty goddamn awesome. And it is. Sometimes. There's a lot to enjoy about Jekyll & Hyde; bizarre dialogue, bonkers physical performances, excellent costumes, a great set, striking makeup, a couple of seriously cool lighting cues and a pleasingly sincere embrace of grand guignol.

So it's frustrating that all that is hamstrung by a dull (and pointless) framing story and achingly long set-up. Though just an hour and half long, there are some interminable sequences where top-hatted men wander about the stage doing very little of interest. You can almost feel the energy drain from the audience, the stilted dialogue and mannered performances inducing a general doziness.

Things improve at precisely the same time as Olivia Winteringham takes the stage. Her performance is worth the price of admission alone; at times a gloriously unhinged B-movie mad scientist, then a hypersexed femme fatale, then a megabarmy super manly serial killer pervert. She literally throws herself into the role, careering around the set and off the other actors like a demented pinball.

Highlights include a deliciously kinky monologue about her fleshy flower being penetrated, writhing around in quasi-orgasmic bliss as she transforms and quasi-Victorian constrictive costume with more than a sniff of bondage to it. Best of all is the finale, in which Hyde is finally revealed as a grimy Marilyn Manson analogue who proceeds to try and fuck Utterson up the arse.

I'm fully aware that I'm selling this show pretty hard right now - what kind of bozo wouldn't want to see that stuff live? These bits are great fun, though admittedly pretty far from the sober exploration of transgenderism, wartime sexual violence and feminism in Victorian England I'd anticipated.

But be warned, sprinkled amongst some genuinely dizzy highs are some crushingly dull lows. A classic mixed bag.

★★★

Jekyll & Hyde is at the Platform Theatre until 8 August. Tickets here.

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

'Drag King Richard III' at Riverside Studios, 29th July 2014

Wednesday, July 30, 2014 - by londoncitynights · - 0 Comments

It's with a sneaking sense of shame that I confess I'd assumed this was going to be an adaptation of Richard III by men in drag. The clue as to what it is actually about is in the title 'Drag King' Richard III. This is a less-told story, the marginalised even within the marginalised: female to male transition.

The play, written by Dr Terri Power, is an examination of the transition of her friend Laurie/Laurence (Anne Zander) in the late 80s and early 90s. Told from the lesbian perspective 'La Femme' (Bonnie Adair), we see two characters explore gender roles; one with blush, lipstick and dresses, the other with hormones, scalpels and surgery. Framing all this is Shakespeare's paragon of self-loathing, Richard III. Power treats Richard's twisted, deformed husk of a body as a literary reflection of the 'wrongness' that compels transgender people towards transitioning.

With just two actors and a sparse set, the play has a tinge of the experimental. Though the underlying narrative of Laurence's thrums away in the background, we frequently digress into fragments of performance art, which slides back into a slice of Shakespeare for a couple of minutes before returning to a two personal confessional. The upshot is that you're never sure of your footing, the constant cycling through different modes, moods and intensities keeping us engaged. Consequentially, the shifting, occasionally fractured, dramatic structure reflects the themes of transition and metamorphosis inherent to the subject matter.

La Femme - Bonnie Adair

At the heart of Drag King Richard III is the concept of gender as a social construct rather than innate biology. The idea of an intrinsic masculinity or femininity is an illusion; roles prescribed by societal conditioning as opposed to preordained by 'nature'. Power initially plays this in a minor key by showing her stage surrogate, usually dressed down in ripped jeans and a loose-fitting vest top, going 'femme' for a night out.

A woman putting on a dress, tights and a bit of make-up isn't exactly rocking the boat, yet even this subtle transformation gains power from the context. In pretty plain terms, we're shown how even adopting conventional gender norms sends out a complex tangle of social signals: she's up for it, she wants attention, she's looking for fun etc. If doing something as simple as this causes ripples, how does changing ones gender completely?

Given the depiction of Laurence it's like tossing hand grenades at your friends and family. The late 80s setting means that none of the characters have any idea how to approach the idea of a woman transitioning to a man, no support groups, existing advice to follow and no internet to consult. Further wrinkling things are that this is all taking place in Georgia - a state not exactly renowned for it's progressive stances.

Laurie/Laurence - Anne Zander

So Laurence's parents, having just about managed to tolerate her coming out as gay, disown her altogether. Even her gay friends find the notion disconcerting - with the straightforward and fascinating observation that if they love a woman that becomes a man, does that make them heterosexual? It feels like everything is spinning outwards into recriminations and mutual suspicions, Laurence erecting barriers between himself, his friends, family and society in general, cauterising the amputated stump of her old gender by signing up to the US Military to take out his frustrations on the Middle East.

Kicking back against society's expectations of her as a woman, Laurence adopts hypermasculinity. He's angry, aggressively sexual and domineering - rasping through gritted teeth how he wants to "break" women. This is the weaponisation of gender, fashioning every expectation of of manhood into a club to beat us with. Zander is excellent casting for this role - her features are like a rack of razor blades, her blue eyes wide and confrontational, her body like a high tension cable. As she stalks the stage she makes eye contact with the audience - when she's locked on to you, you become a deer on a road at night transfixed by the car bearing down upon it.

Her command of Shakespeare is also deeply impressive, imbuing dialogue like "cheated of feature by dissembling nature / deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time / into this breathing world, scarce half made up" with spiky fervour, leaving us no doubts as to its relevance to the transgender experience. There's a clarity of vision to this performance, powerful confidence faintly leavened with a humanising tinge of self-doubt.

The a post-show discussion afterwards proved to be as fascinating as the play itself. Chaired by Del LaGrace Volcano, and featuring director Roz Hopkinson, the cast and Dr Powers they pick through what the meanings of contemporary gender. Volcano's mere presence is a perfect rebuttal to those with a deathgrip on the idea of gender as a strict binary, effortlessly straddling masculine and feminine.

The most illuminating part of the discussion was an explanation of why female-to-male transgendered people are marginalised compared to male-to-female. Volcano laid out that men like Eddie Izzard and Grayson Perry are considered 'brave' when they don feminine signifiers. The compelling argument was made that this bravery arises from the idea of consciously rejecting masculine privilege in favour of the 'lesser' femininity. Conversely, women seizing masculine privilege are seen as interlopers, unfairly occupying the positions of power. Zander explained that she saw this as a straightforward symptom of patriarchy - an analysis it's difficult to argue with.

As I left I had a mouthful of intellectual gristle to munch on. It's easy to march through life accepting that society is the way it is because it's the way it is. This is the unexamined life and it's boring as hell. Frolicking in fuzzy gender boundaries is a fantastic way to reveal your own ingrained prejudices, even if it is just donning a suit or a dress and heading out into the night. Drag King Richard III manages to do a hell of lot with very little time, telling a deeply felt personal story while getting into the nitty-gritty of wider gender issues. If you have an interest in trans rights, sociology or gender politics you should absolutely check it out.

Drag King Richard III is at Riverside Studios until 3rd August 2014. Tickets here.

All photography by Jamie Scott-Smith.

Saturday, March 2, 2013

'The Night is Another Country' launch at Doughty Street Chambers, 1st March 2013

Saturday, March 2, 2013 - by londoncitynights · - 0 Comments

On the 8th of January Suzanne Moore made a crack that women were expected to look like “Brazilian transsexuals”. This throwaway remark struck a nerve in the transgender community; between 2008-2011 426 transgender people have been murdered in Brazil - the highest rate in the world. An astonishing 80% of murders of transgender people worldwide between 2008-11 occurred in Latin America. Beyond the physical threat, transgender people routinely face social exclusion and discrimination. Why is this region of the world so dangerous for transgender people? More pressingly, what can be done about it?

So I was happy to accept the invitation of the The Latin American and Caribbean Network of Transgender People (REDLACTRANS) and the International HIV/AIDS Alliance to attend the launch of The Night is Another Country: Impunity and violence against transgender women human rights defenders in Latin America. This report lays bare the chilling reality of life for transgender people in Latin America, with numerous personal stories and interviews that paint a depressing picture of intimidation, exploitation and victimisation in these countries.

A short and powerful film shown by REDLACTRANS at the evening.

The launch, generously hosted by Doughty Street Chambers, featured an impressive panel of activists and politicians. Chairing the evening was Shaun Woodward MP, Labour representative for St Helens South and Whiston; the speakers were Marcela Romero, Regional Coordinator of REDLACTRANS; Monica Leonardo, author of the report; Christine Burns MBE, political activist, health advisor and former Vice President of Press for Change and Sue Breeze, representing the Foreign and Commonwealth Office.

Shaun Woodward MP was an impressive speaker, explaining both his moral and personal convictions in relation to transgender rights. He famously crossed the floor from the Conservatives to Labour in 1999 after being sacked for supporting the repeal of Section 28, the regulation preventing promotion of homosexuality in schools. As a result of this defection, the Conservative Party sicced the press on his transgender sister, resulting in a front page of the Sun covered in doorstep pictures of her. His anger is palpable when he recounts this, and he seems a passionate and sincere defender of human rights (although interestingly he didn't vote on the gay marriage bill...).

He lays out some of the more alarming statistics in the report, the most disturbing being that rates of HIV infection are frighteningly high in the transgender community in Latin America. 35% of transgender people are infected, which, when compared to the average rate of adult HIV prevalence across Latin America, 0.5%, makes this the most unequal region in the world.

Cold statistics like these are shocking and effective, but the problem in this particular field is that there isn't a huge amount of data to work with. One of the aims of REDLACTRANS is to put pressure on Latin American governments to legally acknowledge the existence of transgender people. That they don't means that data is scarce, with transgender men and women being recorded in statistics as their birth gender rather than what they identify as. So the conclusions of the report are primarily derived from interviewing transgender people from across Latin America about their experiences. These voices tell some pretty damn grim stories, for example:

"About six months ago, I got in a car with a man who I know is a policeman. He hired me to provide my sexual services, but afterwards he didn't want to pay and he wouldn't let me get out of the car. He shouted at me, "Today you really are going to die, hueco!". I told him to kill me, because I knew that sooner or later I'd end up dead, because for me, life is a bonus." - [Transgender activist in Guatemala, July 2012]

Things continue in this vein as Monica explains to us the levels of violence and murder against transgender activists and transgender women, crimes to which the state turns a blind eye. Many transgender women in Latin American countries gravitate towards sex work; discrimination in society making it difficult for them to easily find other sources of income. This places them in an intensely vulnerable situation, with little options available.

A near universal theme in these interviews is intense distrust of the police. There is countless testimony of the police exploiting transgender sex workers, blackmailing them for free sexual favours and attacking or even killing them if they resist. After all, if you're viciously beaten by a policeman, who do you report the attack to? In many cases the victim would be making the report to the colleagues of the person you're accusing. In one example we hear how someone wishing to report a crime was told that "the computer system is down", and to go to another station to report it. In each station the person visited, the same thing was heard. To know that the police couldn't give a toss about your safety and that you have no means of reporting a crime leaves you feeling intensely powerless.

A trailer for a project by Ivan D'Onadio shown at the event

Reading the report you feel the weight of misery pressing down on you. Example after example of humiliation, disfigurement and rape, a litany of crimes committed by state actors, or with the state's sinisterly implied consent. Changing the course of monolithic organisations like the police, the courts, the church and the government looks like an almost impossible task. So how can things improve?

Predictably, the answer is slowly and with great difficulty. One of the objectives of RELACTRANS is to get Latin American governments to allow people to change their gender and name in their identification documents. This sounds like a fairly reasonable request, but laws like these provide the bedrock for further anti-discrimination legislation as proof that the state officially recognises their existence. Earlier in the evening we're told that police find it difficult to identify murdered transgender women as they tend not to carry ID. Under existing laws, any official ID they could possess would carry their birth name and gender, which isn't going to be particularly useful for someone who's undergone or is undergoing transition. The most significant advance in this area of law has been in Argentina, whose Gender Identity Law came into force in May 2012; if the momentum from this can be harnessed it would be the first light in a very dark situation.

It's rare that I feel a sense of patriotism, but when the human rights activists speak glowingly of the UK's progress in human rights for transgender people I felt a slight glow of pride. We were shown how far the UK has come since 1992. Back then transgender people were unable to change their birth certificate, marry, have employment protection and most disturbingly, legally unable to be raped. In 2012 all of these have been overturned, thanks to the efforts of organisations like Press For Change. It's efforts like these that serve as a template for political action in Latin America.

It wasn't exactly a cheery night, but all the panellists spoke with clear-headed conviction. For the transgender activists in Latin America it takes an enormous amount of bravery to stand up to a society that apparently doesn't care if you wind up dead in a ditch or not. This report will function as a keystone in highlighting the danger and oppression that transgender people live under, and as a foundation for further activism in Latin American regions.

You can read the full report here: http://issuu.com/aids_alliance/docs/thenightisanothercountry?mode=window

Many thanks to Doughty Street Chambers for hosting this, and to all the panellists for speaking so eloquently, intelligently and passionately.

LONDON CITY NIGHTS