Review: The Joy of Cam (Down the Rabbit Hole Theatre, GM Fringe)

Saturday 20th July 2019
Theatre, King’s Arms, Salford

This year’s Greater Manchester Fringe continues throughout July, and I’m continuing to review a selection of shows from this year’s programme for this blog and for North Manchester FM. The next show I saw was The Joy of Cam by Down the Rabbit Hole Theatre, at the King’s Arms Theatre, on Saturday 20th July. You can hear the radio version of this interview on North Manchester FM on Tuesday, but here’s the blog version…

The Joy of Cam is a one-act, one-woman show about Jess – or is it Aurora? – a young woman who works as a webcammer (or camgirl). Jess performs sex acts on webcam in the persona of Aurora, and the show explores the trials and tribulations of her particular career choice. The show is performed by Gemma Davies and directed by Chloe Patricia Beale, who collaborated as co-writers on the script.

I had mixed expectations going into The Joy of Cam. The premise certainly had potential, and the blurb stated that the writers had conducted research and interviews with current webcam models in order to reflect real-life stories and experiences. However, I couldn’t help but wonder how the show would compare to the 2018 film Cam (with script by Isa Mazzei, based on her own experiences as a camgirl). I really enjoyed Cam, so I was curious to know how The Joy of Cam would compare (especially given the former is a horror/thriller, but the latter appeared to offer something rather more light-hearted).

The Joy of Cam opens with Jess sitting on the stage, filing her nails and fielding phone calls. In between short phone conversations with clients, she begins to explain to the audience what her job entails. The show’s opening is notably for its casual, conversational tone – Jess addresses the audience directly and with light humour, and breaks off only to perform briefly (and in a somewhat non-committal way) as Aurora on the phone. The only slight shadow that falls over the scene comes when Jess is interrupted by a call from her father, which is in turn interrupted by a client checking in to her chatroom. However, this confusion is played for laughs, and the audience is given to believe it isn’t a serious problem.

I had some misgivings about the early part of The Joy of Cam. While Jess’s casualness about her job isn’t a problem, she isn’t immediately engaging as a character. Filled with the arrogance of youth, Jess makes a series of pronouncements about the world of work that grated a little in their naivety and the knowing style of their delivery. She is at such pains to explain to the audience that she has made a sensible career choice that it’s easy to feel a bit annoyed by her overconfidence.

More problematic is Jess’s mocking and dismissive tone when she touches on experiences of abuse. As she offers to tell the audience how she got started in sex work, Jess describes a coercive and controlling relationship she experienced as a teenager, before laughing and saying that it’s not true. She does acknowledge that some camgirls have this sort of story, but then airily states that she doesn’t. I was uncomfortable with the way this was played for laughs (complete with a ‘dodgy uncle’ punchline at one point).

In its marketing, The Joy of Cam insists that it is concerned with telling stories that are not usually heard. The problem here is that, when it comes to cam work, the only voices that are currently heard are those of young white girls who grew up in comfortable family homes and chose camming of their own volition. To make jokes about the possibility of abuse or coercion actually serves to further silence those with less of a platform, and this part of the play felt rather insensitive.

Now, while I do have reservations about the first half of the play, I found the latter section much more interesting. As things start to go wrong for Jess, the play matures into a more thoughtful and compelling piece, which ultimately reaches a refreshing and thought-provoking conclusion. Dropping the arch performance style of the first half, Davies finds her feet in a more conflicted and complex characterization in the second, allowing her to explore the nuance of character more.

These later scenes don’t simply present ‘bad things happening’, but rather develop the narrative into a more thorough examination of Jess’s reality (for good and bad). Not only does this allow Davies to show a greater performance range, but it also reveals some sophistication of writing and direction, as the pace and tone become more textured and considered.

The play takes place on a bare set, with props rather than backdrop creating the scene. One aspect of the staging that I thought worked very well was the way the camming itself was evoked. When a client enters the chatroom, Davies steps into a spotlight and looks up above the audience’s eyeline. Beale’s direction here is understated and effective, as it creates almost a genie-in-a-bottle effect, which sets up a subtle claustrophobia that undercuts Jess’s confident narration. As the pace picks up in the second half of the play, this atmosphere is heightened to good effect.

Overall, The Joy of Cam is a play that grew on me as it developed. While the first half has some weaknesses and missteps in characterization and tone, the second half is much more assured in terms of both performance and narration. This is Down the Rabbit Hole’s debut piece, and it certainly shows some real promise. I’ll be interested to see what the company produces in the future.

The Joy of Cam was on at the King’s Arms Theatre on the 20th and 21st July, as part of the Greater Manchester Fringe. To see information about all the events at this year’s Fringe, visit the festival website.

Review: Holy Land (Elegy Theatre, GM Fringe)

Thursday 18th July 2019
The Empty Space (formerly Footlights House)

This year’s Greater Manchester Fringe is on from 1st-31st July. I’m continuing my reviews of a selection of this year’s festival programme on this blog and on North Manchester FM. The next play I saw was Holy Land by Elegy Theatre, which was on at The Empty Space (formerly Footlights House) in Salford, on Thursday 18th July. You can hear my radio review of this play on today’s Hannah’s Bookshelf on North Manchester FM. Here’s the blog version of the review…

Holy Land is written by Matthew Gouldesbrough and directed by Patrick Medway, and it stars Gouldesbrough, Rick Romero and Hannah Morrison. The show’s blurb promises a story about ‘the dark side of the internet’ – but, to be honest, Holy Land is about something even darker than the dark web: humanity.

I’ll say up front that this is the most disturbing show I’ve seen at this year’s Fringe so far. Don’t get me wrong, it was the promise of darkness that attracted me in the first place (which says a lot about my tastes, really!), but Holy Land went to places that even I hadn’t anticipated.

The play presents three separate stories, each told through a monologue by one of the characters. None of the stories are linear in chronology and, in fact, they don’t initially appear to be stories at all. The set is simply a set of screens in the middle of the stage, which periodically interrupt the action with screeches, static and bursts of montages about internet danger, social media and morality. The physical separation of the performers on stage – they often stand in opposing corners of the performance space, or cross over past one another without making contact – and the sparseness of the set serve to make the stage area seem worryingly large. I’ve been to shows at Footlights House (now The Empty Space) before, but I don’t remember it seeming so disconcertingly big.

Gouldesbrough plays Tim, who introduces us to Holy Land – a website he runs that contains the ‘worst’ videos on the internet. Despite numerous references to the dark web during the play, the unsettling thing about Holy Land is that it’s a site on the surface web. Easily accessible and – as Tim assures us – completely legal.

Tim’s introduction to the website is intercut with the introduction to Kate, played by Morrison, a young woman who gabbles cheerfully and rather naively about – amongst other things – Meal Deal sandwiches. And by Romero’s Jon, a man who appears to have just bought a gun on the internet.

Tim’s description of Holy Land and, more importantly, the consumer desire it’s capitalizing on sets us up for a rather intense exploration of the limits (or lack thereof) of human morality. As he reminds us several times, actions have consequences – but Tim seems notably detached from the potential consequences of his own actions. It’s a disconcertingly convincing sales pitch, which uses the fictional website to offer some pointed commentary on the state of the current internet and social media.

However, Holy Land is more than a diatribe about the evils of the web. As the fragmented and distorted narration(s) unfold, it becomes clear that the play is a complex and cerebral piece of storytelling with strong roots in older traditions of theatrical tragedy. Tim’s sales pitch gives way to a story about his childhood, and about a particular encounter with a young man he describes as ‘evil’.

Meanwhile, Jon’s monologue about guns and explosives becomes interwoven with a story about a troubled and broken marriage, which (for all its philosophical and existential style) actually conjures some well-realized characters and situations that almost – almost – introduce a little lighter humour into the proceedings. While Holy Land doesn’t really use much comedy – except of the darkest possible kind – the tonal variations in Jon’s story give a sense of texture to what is quite an unrelenting tale. Gouldesbrough’s writing is assured throughout, and there is a confident sense of control to the narration.

I don’t want to say too much about how the three stories unfold and converge, or about how Kate’s monologue fits into the overall story. As always, I don’t like to give story spoilers – but in this case I also don’t want to spoil the experience of the story. The moments of realization I felt as I came to understand connections and implications were a big part of my enjoyment of the show.

‘Enjoyment’ is a strange term to use to describe a play as dark as Holy Land. With repeated reference to violence, rape, pornography and voyeurism, Holy Land doesn’t shy away from content that many might find distressing (and there are explicit trigger warnings posted outside the theatre). Nevertheless, I did enjoy the play. Gouldesbrough’s intelligent and assertive script is well-directed by Medway, who makes excellent use of the performance space and the movements of the three performers to create an atmosphere of bleak vastness that’s almost devoid of hope. A bank of screens and a small stool with a laptop on it doesn’t really give us much to cling to!

But I was really blown away by the performances. Morrison gives us with an intriguing and ultimately devastating performance as Kate, a young woman (and it’s never made clear exactly how young she is) who veers between childlike enthusiasm and a bitter sexuality that seems spurred on as much by spite as anything else. By contrast, Romero appears to offer a more balanced, calmer performance, exuding a nearly likable rationality, for all his bag of guns and bombs.

And Gouldesbrough… well, he is pretty memorable as Tim. Moving between terrifying and heart-breaking – and all points in between – Tim is a figure of tragedy, but also of horror. It’s an incredible performance from Gouldesbrough, and it’s hard not to feel some empathy at the play’s climax.

My only criticism – or perhaps question – about Holy Land is whether it really is a play about the dark side of the internet. When we eventually realize what story it is we’re following, it’s one of human depravity, morality and tragedy. Yes, the internet is used to monetize these things, but Holy Land’s story transcends the technology that surrounds it. (I’m not sure that is a criticism after all.)

Holy Land is an assured and devastating piece of theatre. It goes to some disturbing places, but with a confident sense of direction and narrative control. Elegy Theatre have created an impressive production here and – with a reminder of content warnings – it’s a strong recommendation from me.

Holy Land was on at The Empty Space on the 17th-19th July, as part of the Greater Manchester Fringe. It will be on at the Bedford Fringe on 21st-24th July, and the Camden Fringe on 2nd and 3rd August. For the full programme of events on at this year’s Greater Manchester, visit the festival website.