top of page

The Dolldrums

  • Writer: Chris O'Rourke
    Chris O'Rourke
  • 2 minutes ago
  • 3 min read
ree

Liath Hannon in The Dolldrums. Image, Isabel Hamilton


****

While the 21st century embraces more trans artists, the 1970s was when gender fluidity went mainstream. From Bowie to Bryan Ferry, Rocky Horror to Roxy Music, the body as a site of gendered performance was being constantly questioned and reframed. Artists like Leigh Bowery, pushing at the boundaries of androgyny and presentation, paving a path for artists that followed. Like Liath Hannon. Whose play The Dolldrums embraces similar interrogations of the body’s relationship to self and society. Transsexual woman Lily wrestling with her subconscious as she navigates a world which has no place for her, and only a sexualised place for her body.


Following a serial killer styled prologue, Lily makes her grand entrance in Jodie Doyle’s centre piece costume, hinting Sunset Boulevard meets Josephine Baker. Utilising key birth years, she unfolds her story of life pre and post operation. Recounting the 90s and her first boyfriend who didn't know she was a boy, and later her college lover who she never told she was once a male. Lily not a liar so much as a pragmatist by her own reckoning. But she’s a lie unto her unconscious self. If pragmatism affords her a social defence, Lily's defences are killing her. Ruairi Nicholl’s role-call of violent, red masked men doing the dirty work of inflicting Lily’s death wish suicide. Agents for her unconscious who’s clearly got a societal agenda.


ree

Ruairi Nicholl and Liath Hannon in The Dolldrums. Image, Isabel Hamilton


Part monologue, part performance of a performance, The Dolldrums occupies an untidy space between performance art, one person confessional and theatre performance. Even so, structurally, The Dolldrums coheres as a Netflix, ready-made screenplay with questionable contrivances concerning who knew what or how much? Flirting at the edge of transgression, there's an uneasy relationship between body and stage with a shy exhibitionism informing countless costume changes. Ultan de Stáinleigh’s superb sound design an unsung hero of mood and atmosphere. Along with Doyle’s throbbing red set, evoking Amsterdam’s red light district with its promise of seedy sex. Making for a telling contrast with a girl who only wants to stand before a boy and hear him tell her he loves her.


As evidenced in her breakthrough performance in Girls & Boys; the camera simply adores Hannon. The stage, however, is a more problematic relationship. Hannon’s expressive immediacy constrained without the close up of the lens. Her presence and personality, though undeniable, lacking sufficient self-confidence to command a stage alone just yet. Evident in far away stares self-consciously avoiding eye contact, poor voice projection, and an emotional stiffness that sounds like The Dolldrums is being recited rather than performed. Yet where else can you learn but by doing? Director Ois O'Donoghue elevating both script and performance into something profoundly moving and visually engaging. Composing strong stage images, ensuring energy and flow cohere and that space and body yield up their full riches. Putting a shine on Lily’s polished poise whilst being true to her unvarnished honesty. O’Donoghue cementing their reputation as one of the most intriguing young directors around.


ree

Liath Hannon in The Dolldrums. Image, Isabel Hamilton


70s comedian Johnnie Casson often joked, “wherever you go, there you are.” Which encapsulates the core dilemma of The Dolldrums. Lily may change her body, change her boyfriends, change her careers and change countries, but she cannot change herself. Her learned pragmatism, in a world mediated through the same old experiences as self-fulfilling prophecies, sees history repeating itself for a woman with no sense of history. But there’s hope in seeing prophecy for what it is: a societal imposed judgement, potentially fatal, unconsciously embraced. Hannon challenging her own limitations in a brave, hugely impressive production. Whose clever play on the title’s original meaning and the colloquial term ‘doll’, which refers to transsexual women, sees The Dolldrums fashion a trans story that can speak to the mainstream. Confirming Jaxbanded’s posse of exciting young talents are destined to go far.


The Dolldrums by Liath Hannon, presented by Jaxbanded Theatre, runs at Smock Alley Theatre until November 8.


For more information visit Smock Alley Theatre

 
 
Recent Posts
Follow Us
  • Facebook Basic Square
  • Twitter Basic Square
bottom of page