As we entered the space at The Nightingale, we were told to take a handful of beans representing our unfulfilled desires, situating the piece as an examination of our own disappointments.
Mary Pearson then confronted the audience with a barrage of totally bizarre content, performed in beige underwear atop a scattering of white beans. Mad imagery was created for us and then thrown away – literally into a bin at the back of the stage.
Gradually she won us over with the crumbling, fragmented narrative which began to emerge.
Pearson’s electric physical performance kept pushing through despite voiceovers narrating the negative audience reactions to her pretension. The bruises and broken skin received from the beans on the floor – her “desires” – could be clearly seen.
Finally, the piece shifted and Pearson revealed through a beautifully honest confession that she was really talking about fantasy. She is angry at a world that allows us to construct ludicrous fantasies which inevitably lead to disenchantment.
This anger drove her performance, creating a raw and memorable show.
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