Reviews
of TalkSexShow
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TalkSexShow
****
If premature ejaculation, monkey masturbation
and mooing like a cow in public leave you feeling sheepish, give this
one a miss.
The premise behind the "talk show" is fairly flaccid: there is no love
in humanity so we can't know haw to make love. But no one cares. This
is lunacy at its best.
In between watching a pussycat "cum" on an overhead screen, a hapless
audience member starts chanting "I am large" in reference to his penis,
an unsuspecting foreigner is told by one of our teachers: "I love you.
No, I just want to fuck you", and I am asked if I ever masturbate with
vegetables.
Bottom line: this is not for the faint of heart. Not so much theatre
as an 18-30's boot camp. But a word of warning: you'll never use the
telephone again.
Anna Millar
The List, Issue 474, 7-14 August 2003
Manic mix of sex and satire
TalkSexShow
Volcano Theatre Company, Chapter Arts Centre
No-one, I think, was actually expecting an illustrated lecture on human
sexuality from Volcano Theatre, renowned purveyors of provocative theatre
to the culturati, but I suspect many were surprised by this manic mixture
of humour, satire and outrageous behaviour.
And, yes, it was about sex. And, yes, there was much use of words relating
to genitalia and sexual activity. And, yes, there was much on-stage
action from the well-endowed Eric and busty Rachael initiated by their
white-suited smooth guru Paul.
Psychobabble, mystical nonsense and not a few personal hang-ups are
peppered with the odd truth in a neat surrealist parody. TalkSexShow
is a robust reminder that Volcano aren't just about politics and physicality
but that they can be very, very funny.
David Adams
The Western Mail, Saturday 30 November 2002
TalkSexShow
Pleasance, London
It's the ones who go on about it who aren't getting any, so the saying
goes, and Volcano Theatre Company take great delight in belittling the
verbose philosophising of the sex guru in TalkSexShow. Men and women
have forgotten how to love, so our white-suited sage informs us and,
while striking yogic poses on his futuristic white chair, he promises
to show us how to love again. But as the lecture continues, and the
guru's composure shows some serious cracks, his warped intentions are
laid bare and his sexual deviancy is exposed. Owen Oppenheimer nails
the New-Agey feel with his ambient video montages and soundscapes (the
birthing whale noises set the tone nicely), but although it has its
moments - such as the guru's apology, 'Sorry, they're still learning',
when one of his students tells a member of the audience that he wants
to 'fuck' her - TalkSexShow is not as funny in its ridiculing as it
could be.
But
that has nothing to do with the performances - Paul Davies (who wrote
the show) is a perfectly convincing slimeball, and his two students,
Rachael Harrison and Eric MacLennan, are imbued with much comic talent.
The problem is that once we've got the joke about spiritual New Age
sexual healers being psychologically unsound characters, Helen Bailey's
production has little more to offer, and its satire quickly dulls.
Madeleine
North
Time Out, October 30 - November 6 2002
Review
of TalkSexShow
Volcano Theatre Company, Theatr Y Werin, Aberystwyth,
26.09.02
Moments of brilliant slapstick comedy that almost felt spontaneous,
pepper this increasingly hilarious show but can't hide the fact that
it has a much deeper and darker side.
It's virtually a one man show with Paul Davies writing and performing
as the frustrated, sleaze ball talk show host (The Guru).
Sex and particularly the individual's sexuality is something that -
unlike most of human experience - can't be happily collectivised. If
it could then we would have stadiums full of people happily masturbating
not copulating. To masturbate with a smile on your face is to be more
liberated than to fuck with a smile on your face. In the absence of
collective mutually appreciated masturbation, fucking is often the way
that the individual deals with the sense of awkwardness and twisted
emotional expression that comes from the possession of genitalia. This
is the territory of the crazed Guru who seems to want to proselytise
genitalia acceptance when in fact all he wants is a screw. He embodies
the paradoxes sexuality present us with. He is the manifestation of
his own fears for the collective.
The kind of curious litany detailing the choice of crisp flavour offered
in the post-modern world, delivered at the end of the play by The Man
(Eric MacLennan), sitting with his nine inch comfy cloth stuck on penis
hanging benignly and The Woman (Rachel Harrison) with her stuck on Durer-like
paper pudenda - who, incidentally perform their sexual tableaux with
a balletic verve - seems to herald the return of reason to a world turned
upside down for an hour: where sexual practice is a Master of the means
rather than a means to mastery…
Helen Bailey's often explosive direction and dangerous choreography
(at one point a six foot log is introduced as a participating member!)
presented the show to an audience which, in the cavernous auditorium
of Theatr-Y-Werin, seemed quite small. Because of this you did feel
that you were at something like a talk show at the beginning but the
power of this piece lies in its confronting the sexual hang-ups of the
audience. Because of that I felt the piece could be even more dangerous:
part of a concentrated attack on theatre audiences made soft by dramatisations
of Victorian texts and effete Shakespeare.
Dic Edwards 27.09.02
Appeared on Theatre in Wales web site www.theatre-wales.co.uk
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