BATS Theatre
March 22-31 | Reviewed by Melody Nixon

A MAD GIRL, possibly with Asperger's Disorder, possibly just normal and we’re all mad, looks after her dying elderly neighbour while he fondles her breasts. An over easy single mum; desperate for some love and raunch with stereotyping, tries to seduce the mad girl’s brother. The mad girl’s brother calls her a slag while texting women he calls ‘losers’. (Oh and the mad girl’s brother is psychic.) What do exploding cows have to do with all this?

Kissing Bone, on this week at BATS, will no doubt add more pages to the Rothwell = theatrical genius versus Rothwell = ordinary kinda guy who likes to shock debate. Kissing Bone does shock, in an uncomfortable, exposing-the-peeping-tom kind of way. And likewise, it does have moments of brilliant tension, wit and absurdity that are fresh and exciting. Yet its value seems to lie in a mixture of the two, and in its murky, reclusive themes that require – albeit a little too much - probing.

For those unexposed to the vociferous debate of the past month, Paul Rothwell is the writer of the Fringe Festival’s Deliver Us, a self-proclaimed anti-abortion piece both lambasted and exulted by the general public and critical sphere. His themes are unashamedly in-yer-face, his poetic theatre a mash of cute, grotesque, racy imagery, and his general, precocious audacity unsettling.

Textually, Kissing Bone is a play rich with irony and wit, much of which revolves around a thread of meat/mad/cow discourse. Brittany (Ginny Spackman) is mad about cows, mad because of cows, and mad because of one particular cow; yet she is a staunch vegetarian. Her elderly neighbour Mr. Marrow (Alex Greig) was the manager of a meat-factory in his time, yet is reduced by Brittany to a “mere animal”, moo-ing desperately for her embrace.

Thus, principles conflict with desires, and ideas conflict with reality. All are explored via the thread of ‘meat’ on various levels; from the huge rotting carcass of Brittany’s dead cow, Sox, to the fleshiness of solo-mum Enid (Charlotte Simmonds) who believes her body her only asset. And from Mr. Marrow’s desire for flesh, in the form of young girls and the KFC that he quaffs unstoppably, and perhaps also the real-life flesh of his son; to the female flesh that Norris (Robin Kerr) both hungers for and rejects.

Elements of this Bovine University production do much to assist the telling of the tale. A low-key Doctor Who soundtrack runs consistently throughout, adding much to the all round weirdness, and effectively pausing to emphasise moments of revelation and tension. There is an interesting use of props – for example, a large photo frame turned away from the audience until the final scenes – which aid the build up of plot.

Ginny Spackman gives a tremendous performance as Brittany, filling the stage with a complete lack of inhibition, despite the uncomfortable things she is subjected to. Her performance ties the show together, providing a core of empathy for the otherwise slightly bewildered audience. Robin Kerr as Norris is also well cast; he is appropriately sleazy and vulnerable, believably crafty and believably weak.

Though a difficult play to follow structurally, Kissing Bone follows some degree of causal development. It climaxes in the revelation of a string of past events – a favourite cow that explodes, followed by an even worse tragedy and a ‘twisted’ molestation - which explain many of the current oddities of the characters. It also includes an occasional mise en scene – Brittany, for example, dancing like a cow on roller skates – to remind us that the play is not all about its text, and that we shouldn’t take it too seriously.

But the largely unanswered aspects of the play are perturbing. While its evolutionary psychology goes some way to explain the madness of Brittany, and the misogyny of Norris, many aspects of the characters remain incoherent. Brittany’s exaggerated ‘forgetting’ – in fact, the widespread ‘forgetting’ of the cast – is still slightly obscure, in the sense that it seems too obvious a device to hint at the ‘mere’ denial of reality. Norris’ telekinesis, while adding comedic elements, seems to lead to a dead end.

The emotional investment required of us in Kissing Bone is too great to leave us much energy for analysis of what is actually happening. It is fresh and exciting to fill a stage with social taboos; Yes people do have sex, Yes molesting occurs – by both men and women - Yes trauma manifests in quirky and disturbing ways – but in order for that investment to be worthwhile, conclusions, links or questions should be hinted at in a mode that viewers will not have to flagellate themselves to understand.

Kissing Bone is mad play, both provocative and silly. It is for people who perhaps have a slightly twisted sense of what is entertaining – people who don’t wish to see yet another stream-lined classic being pulled out of the closet and stamped about upon by a well-heeled crew, but wish to be challenged on some sensory level, and, if they haven’t had enough Deep Thought for the week, on an intellectual level too. The number of viewers who fit into all of the above may not be very high. Kissing Bone is refreshingly different play, but expanding its scope, coherence and accessibility would make it a more worthwhile experience for many.