Review: The Vagina Monologues
Body shaming is such an ever present feature of modern day society it’s surprising that it retains any remnants of power to surprise yet further…and then you discover, as a man, the extent to which 51% of society are shamed: women.
The Vagina Monologues has been a presence in theatres ever since creator V’s (formerly Eve Ensler) performance off-Broadway in 1996. 27 years later it is still finding new audiences - this one in Dundee - and still has the power to shock.
My experience starts with some trepidation. As one of a group of four gay men, we take our seats as a woman in the row in front turns round and stares inquisitively. it’s clear we’re not here as most men are in this audience: husband, boyfriend, father. “Alright gents?” I’m asked. “Have you come to the wrong show?” Feeling as though I’ve gate-crashed the party, I start to feel anxious that I’m dampening other people’s night out.
After a monologue about vaginal nomenclature (you learn new words!)…we move onto what for me is the most devastating personal monologue. For better or worse, this is not the monologue about Congolese women. That is indeed a devastating story of outright abuse; however, I was not unaware of it. These stories do make it into the news from time to time (however clinically reported). No, the monologue which claimed my heart was that of an elderly pensioner. As a young woman, she had been on a date and upon being driven back, her beau reached in for a kiss whereupon her body responded in an unexpected (and for her a devastating) way. She was made to feel ‘dirty’…as her date sped off into the night. She never recovered from that experience. Spent her life without a partner. For all that any of us in the audience knows, it may well have been a perfectly happy life. That testimony though is unquestionably one of loss: a moment against which all others are measured.
After the interval, the woman in front turns round and asks “Well, enjoying it?”. “Immensely” I reply, feeling considerably more comfortable going into the second half. There is a monologue on reclaiming language: a call and response section which is both hilarious and, you sense, liberating.
These personal testimonies are by turn funny, heartbreaking, haunting and enlightening. The Vagina Monologues is a sermon for and by women about the way they have been made to feel by men. There are no by-standers, idle spectators, absent stakeholders in this world. It speaks to us all, whomever you are, wherever you may be.
In the company of the exquisite cast: Joyce Falconer, Maureen Carr and Laura Lovemore, this is a safe, empathetic, encouraging space wonderfully created by director Irene Macdougall. A lot of love went into this piece…and from it arose a communion of spirit and humanity. In these fraught times, it seems as much as we can hope for.
The Vagina Monologues ran 21st - 29th April, Dundee Rep.