There is a hesitation to sitting in the front row of 'Fleabag'.
As Maddie Rice’s character, the recently single Fleabag, scats on her penchant for porn in the vein of Aussie stand-up Becky Lucas, the fear of being spotted and ridiculed slowly rises. This is a dramatic monologue, though, not late night comedy; audience interaction is not in the script, and if you are expecting an evening of carefree laughs, you will leave the venue shaken. By evening’s end, when the punchline lands, you will wish that you could condense the laughs that have escaped into the atmosphere, bottle them, then hide them beneath the bed.
Psychologists versed in attachment theory would diagnose Fleabag as prototypically avoidant of intimacy; not sex, intimacy. Threesomes and gangbangs are fine but cuddling is off limits for her. As the owner of a guinea pig themed café, she mocks the need that piggies have for companionship; that they can die from loneliness. She keeps a lone guinea pig, Hilary, imposing upon her the same detachment that she lives by. She cannot relate to a regular customer to the café, an ageing Cockney muso who finds camaraderie wherever he goes; he is old and wrinkly, so what does he have to offer?
Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s incisive text uses comedy to probe taboos that will remain in the closet unless they are dressed in funny clothes: suicide, the funny drunk, porn addiction and sexual assault. While the stage is simply set with a red cushioned chair, Maddie uses mime and mimicry to transport audiences into central London. With her physical comedy skills, she artfully exposes the disconnect between the taker of a sext selfie and the receiver. She doesn’t need to rely on shock tactics, though; her imitation of a guinea pig head bopping to music is equally riotous. She is aided by lighting and sound effects which instantaneously convert the stage into a rattling old tube train or a fluorescently lit office. Viewers of the BBC TV series will be familiar with much of the substance of the show, but there is a freshness to viewing it in a different context and with Maddie Rice as Fleabag. Go see the show, then go home, uninstall Tinder and gently rock yourself to sleep.
★★★★★
