Tag: feminism

Wife Cooks Husband in Devizes!

A wife cooked her husband on Thursday evening in Devizes. I watched the whole thing unfold, but would have politely passed off any offering of a plate, in favour of my funky KitKat Chunky (three for a quid at Derek’s Deals!) What do you know? I’m way too much like Kenneth for my own liking, for after all, the way to a man’s stomach is……

You can get ice cream at Devizes’ wonderful Wharf Theatre, but not at a dress rehearsal, which is what this was; my apologies if the headline deliberately deceived you! You are here now, and might as well read about me sneaking in my own snack, to watch this wicked black comedy from the writer of The Nativity film series, Debbie Isitt. Opening night is Monday 18th May and the final night is Saturday, 23rd. 

Directed by Alison Warren, The Wife Who Cooked Her Husband may have the conclusion given away in the title, but the lead up to it is an unnerving watch with poignantly satirical dialogue. Set in either the late seventies or early eighties, a time when the practices of patriarchy were being questioned via feminism for a younger generation, their elders upheld the traditions of married life. Ergo, for a middle-aged chauvinist to “part exchange” his older model wife, might find himself undone and exposed by his newer model’s more modern perceptions of marriage.

There’s only three characters in this play, sitting around a dinner table. Flashbacks builds a devilish narrative of a cheating husband, how it emotionally affects his ex-wife, and the new wife too. Jessica Bone plays the ex-wife, Hilary, vividly. The focal point of the play is her building concerns for her marriage, and realisation her suspicions were right. Defining her plight is the emotional rollercoaster which justifies her revenge.

Louisa Davidson is Laura, the scandalous, younger, hedonistic mistress, and she plays it with a realistic front. But as the play delves deeper into Laura’s psyche, and her expectations from her marriage, whilst more radically feministic, are of equal burden to Kenneth, the happy-go-lucky fellow, caught in this love triangle of his own making.

It becomes clear the antagonist was never Laura. Kenneth is the lovable charmer, a gluttoness Elvis fan. Hardly a master of deception, he fulfills his desires uncaringly; the basic caricature of an eighties lad with Peter Pan syndrome; me starting this review with what I ate during the show might well be proof! If Jessica’s abject and sentimental monologues are the backbone of the play, they’re contrasted by Kenneth’s playful ignorance, and therein lies the comedy, dark as it may be.  

Andy Bennett plays Kenneth with comic splendour. One who gets his dinner at home but his love elsewhere, and at this successful beginning there’s a scene of visual comedy gold, as the moment of him ingeniously switching from Hilary to Laura delights him. Once reality takes hold, holes in his lies are exposed, and whilst his thoughts on the matter are exposed too, they’re not nearly as nuanced as either Hilray’s or Laura’s. One could argue a writer creates more realistic characters of their own gender, and in this Kenneth’s characteristics are flatter. Another argument is, of course, that’s the fundamental difference between the genders!

Here is a play which either gender can enjoy, and it is very enjoyable, but after-thoughts might some cause healthy debate! That’s what makes this a great show. The production may not be the best I’ve seen at The Wharf, though that’s a high pedestal, but three days later I’m still pondering its details and the questions it raises; it’s a grower.

While it might appeal more to women, the tensions and stress on relationships caused by an affair should alarm the man more, and they should see it if only to find sympathy for the mess they would create, following their desires without consideration. Young men preaching hyper-masculinity and this manosphere concept, should note this play proves these ideas were standard not so long ago, and didn’t work back then. Because, and here’s the real hitter, Hilary ponders at the conclusion, Kenneth has decidedly average levels of chauvinism, passive with it, and is atypical rather than extreme, but still he’s a manipulator and cheat who deserved his comeuppance.

The macabre ending suggested by the title is therefore expected, but the wait for Kenneth’s fate and Hillary’s justifications are more intensely meaningful than the concussion. While this play is of a simple setup, with a simple and common premise, the more its deeper meanings roll over in my mind, the more I accept that The Wife Who Cooked her Husband is a must-see.  

The Woman who cooked her husband

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Hannah Rose Platt’s Fragile Creatures

If Whitney Houston set a benchmark for female vocalists many did before her too, but while others were influenced by them, they never felt obliged to attain a sound precisely mimicking them, as, it seems to me, many modern female singers striving for pop success do with Whitney’s. And when they do, it sounds, well, manufactured and impassive. A Liverpudlian now residing in Bristol, Hannah Rose Platt releases a concept album tomorrow, Fragile Creatures, of which I’d compare more to like of Kate Bush, whereby Hannah can weave beautiful tapestries, adapting her voice to reflect the sentiment of her narrative, mood and style of the track; and there’s a lot going on in Fragile Creatures….

It is undoubtedly a concept album, anatomising the complex relationship between women and medicine throughout history. It explores how antiquated myths and misconceptions in the pursuit of science have impacted female health, while creating countless injustices and inequalities. If this comes across sounding more akin to a poignant lecture, Hannah Rose Platt shifts between a collection of musical influences to imprint her wisdom, causing Fragile Creatures to be an altering and compelling journey of prowess and refinement.

It opens introductorily with a spoken word sample of Helen Andelin’s Fascinating Womanhood, a controversial sixties manual encouraging women to uphold their conventional marital role. Ataraxia is as calming as the meaning of its Greek philosophical title, ambiently floating over an acoustic guitar riff and drumbeat, musically reflecting on Diazepam-flavoured tranquillity, as if conformity to the sample will land us all in a world to make Aldous Huxley quiver. In this, Hannah’s voice is bitter, eerie, to convey the point.

But by the second tune, Curious Mixture, a drifting acoustic vibe, Hannah’s voice is as silky and smooth as Kylie, which shifts to a sharper more indie-punk feel as the songs progress. There’s a definite Bristol trip hop scene there too, causing me to consider Portishead as an influence. By the fourth tune we’re blessed with the most gorgeous ballad to Mary Magdalene, reminding me of Daisy Chapman’s folk angle. It’s at this conjunction I realise Hannah is reciting her deepest thoughts and observations on the theme, historically, and they’re gender ecumenical rather than bitter stabs of feminist vendetta. I didn’t feel under attack as a guy listening to this, provided I ponder the meanings Hannah so poignantly expresses.

This is eleven tracks strong, melding myths of pseudoscience, superstition and patriarchy with medicine and chronicles of the resilient and defiant women who unyieldingly fought for equality and autonomy. At times it’s Kate Bush vocalising for Massive Attack, as is the tune The Yellow Wallpaper, at others, such as La Grande Hysterie, it’s a contemporary Alanis Morissette’s Jagged Little Pill covered by Siouxsie and the Banshees. It ends playfully like musical theatre, but penultimately is horrific and beautiful in equal measure.

The album is a themed anthology. Each song has its own narrative, weaving into each other. From the tale of Anne Greene, accused of infanticide under the Concealment of Birth of Bastards Act, and pardoned after being revived from hanging to reflections on the health gap that lingers to this day. There’s so much more I still need to discover exploring its sheer brilliance as a concept and how the music compliments it.

Hannah explains the concept, “This record is both an offering and a tribute to female pioneers in medicine; and an endeavour to honour, and give voice to, the unsung heroines in the history of our health. What struck me most during the research and creation of this album was the deeply ingrained, sinister nature of myth and misconception surrounding women’s health, and the harmful, cyclical dismissal of experiences; decade after decade, century after century, often reinforced by outdated and dangerous practices. My hope is that listeners will not only be intrigued by these stories but also inspired to dig deeper and empowered to challenge the systems that have long ignored or misrepresented women’s voices, as this dismissal remains so prevalent today.”

At this I could agreeably sigh, like any poignant art which usually preaches to the converted those who really need to take heed of its message will likely overlook it. Nevertheless, if others cite Fragile Creatures as the work of an upcoming artist, I’d favour to compare the depth and production of this fantastic album to Dark Side of the Moon. And with that the right audience might spare its lesson a thought. A high but deserved accolade, in considering it took Pink Floyd seven albums to accomplish this magnum opus, when this is Hannah Rose Platt’s second; what comes next will be astounding because Fragile Creatures is a sublime keeper.

The advance single Curious Mixture is out now. Full album is released tomorrow (April 25th) via Xtra Mile Recordings and mastered at Abbey Road, with production and playing from Ed Harcourt. Launch party is Friday 25th at Rough Trade, Bristol.

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