My Feminist Boner, The Place, review

Sarah Blanc’s My Feminist Boner explores the perils of beauty standards with unwavering passion and comedy, in an abstract one-woman dance show at The Place.

Exploring the perils of growing up female in a patriarchal society and the oppressive nature of beauty standards, Sarah Blanc’s My Feminist Boner breaks down the rules dictated by self-appointed ‘gurus’ and shines a light on the dark side of influencer advertising. Physical theatre, elaborate props, multimedia and fabulous set design (featuring my personal favourite: an enormous vulva tent) combine as Blanc takes her audience on a journey of how she found her ‘feminist boner’. Though it takes some time to find narrative cohesion, there are exciting, humourous and profound moments throughout which shape the performance satisfyingly. Beauty tropes and expectations are highlighted, heightened and then personalised – when we hear the contents of letters from the performer’s younger self at pivotal stages in her development as a woman.

The Place is a large space to fill but Blanc’s abounding energy and the show’s use of lighting does so with ease. The space is adorned with elaborate set-pieces and props, which illuminate and characterise the stage in keeping with the beauty-centric – yet eccentric – tone of the piece. Though My Feminist Boner is a little slow to ‘get going’ and develop a narrative of sorts, there’s some particularly effective moments which fuse humour with powerful underlying social messages. Sarah’s physical performance of the ‘period’ is particularly humourous and resonant with the audience; the punctuating and powerful movements being a moment of real physical comedy.

The use of verbatim recordings of conversations with her father – in which he inadvertently highlights the misconceptions regarding feminism, its misrepresentation and the damages that this does – illuminate the extent of which ingrained misogyny is still rife in today’s society. The most powerful moment was the juxtaposition of the male voice referring to feminists as ‘Nazi’s’, whereby Sarah then moves into a ritualistic, Monty-Python-esque dance: smearing her face in cake and embracing the slander intended to repress feminists. Other powerful images included the haunting use of a lip-product which made Sarah’s lip bleed, demonstrating the price of beauty is intense physical suffering. The lighting and commitment of the performer really emphasise the darkness of the humour.

Blanc’s performance is very strong; she plays to her strengths and isn’t afraid to look silly (an important message to juxtapose the issue in contention). The direct address of the audience and the interactive aspects work well in maintaining a connection with the audience in an abstract multimedia space. It’s hour-long running time makes it easier still to sustain interest, even without much of a throughline. The production is certainly dynamic, albeit exploring a somewhat rudimentary form of feminism and social issue, and feels well suited to a 14-18 demographic (those most likely to be susceptible to the issues that Sarah encounters). Alongside the powerful moments of comedy and visual dynamism, developing the narrative further might help create a greater impact on the audience.