Review: THE VIRGINS, Soho Theatre
Photo credit: Camilla Greenwell
Miriam Battye’s The Virgins is a claustrophobic comedy-drama about the pre-drinks that linger, about sitting on the precipice of what seems to the uninitiated like chaos, and how/why we delay the inevitable.
Jess, Phoebe and Chloe are going out. That’s the purpose of the evening. Chloe’s brother has ‘a boy’ over and they’re awaiting the promised arrival of ‘cool girl’ Anya to guide them on what might as well be their first venture out of girlhood. They’re virgins: is this a problem to be fixed? A treasured state of being? Or something inconsequential to ignore?
It won’t be ignored. Battye’s script is weighed with the knowledge that someone, at some point, has to have sex. With whom, in what capacity and for what reason is up for grabs. It is then discussed at length in a bath stuffed with teenage girls, and also in the adjacent room, as two boys play a video game and try not to look at each other.
Anna Clock’s music is an immediate presence. Grandiose and sweeping, full blackouts are heralded by classical movements, conjuring a sense of Doomsday. Tinashe and Charli xcx boom in the second act, as pre-drinks get out of hand, every musical cut-off-lights-up moment perfectly timed for maximum awkwardness, or poignancy.
The play starts off easy, although it’s difficult to grasp the tone straight away. Anushka Chakravarti (Chloe) and Ella Bruccoleri (Jess) have a believable childhood-friends dynamic, bolstered in content by Molly Hewitt-Richards (Phoebe), who brings a brilliantly comic third dynamic to the table. Battye’s dialogue is both witty and bizarrely childlike, to the point where it’s often difficult to gauge how old these girls are supposed to be. The comedy lowers the ages significantly, making for quite a confusing orientation into what may be either children playing grown-ups, or new adults who feel they’re falling behind, especially as Zoë Armer’s Anya arrives to provide stark contrast in maturity via posing and pouting.
Ragevan Vasan’s Joel is struggling throughout with his idea of manhood and external influence. Said influence, Alec Boaden’s Mel, is given more of a platform to express his frustrations with manhood, although both feel slightly underdeveloped.
Jaz Woodcock-Stewart directs the play with ferocity, filling gaps in the simple staging with touches that feel lived-in. Rosie Elnile’s set should be applauded for its veracity: the view of an external window that sees no practical action is excellent for the atmosphere. The mirror reflecting a violent video game being played in the background while the night unfolds is another nice touch.
The play’s conclusion is predictable, or perhaps inevitable, and it sinks a little too deeply into its drama, but it is entertaining and authentic, and full of strong performances.
*** Three stars
Reviewed by: Oli Burgin
The Virgins plays at London’s Soho Theatre until 7 March, with further info here.
