brock turner

‘Colder Water’: A Review

Sunday afternoons for me are usually spent aimlessly engaging with whatever cheap dialogue is available on Netflix. Yet I was lucky enough to be invited by Antonym Theatre to watch their latest piece Colder Water, directed by Celine Fortenbacher-Poplawska, and 2016 Edinburgh Fringe success ‘TWIX’, directed by Cara Withers and Molly Evans.

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Out of the New Cross bubble, and with a £4.65 Voddy and Cranberry, I was ready to absorb the works of Antonym Theatre’s Double Decker: ‘Colder Water’ and ‘TWIX’. Ogden’s writing makes you walk in the characters shoes; no matter if those shoes are pinchy, floppy, or relatively comfortable, I was tying the laces of empathy as I went. Since finishing my second year of studying Theatre Arts, I turn to one of my favourite quotes to best describe pieces such as Colder Water and Twix.

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Laurie Ogden’s work may not focus on the lives of 19th century Russians, but it does focus on employing subtlety. Supported by lyrical monologues and passive-aggressive characters which allows her pieces to act as broken glass to present a unique glint into ordinary lives.  The premier of Colder Water was essentially an extract of an awkward, yet needed conversation between four individuals dealing with an unplanned pregnancy.

Colder Water’s subtly allows the audience to uncover that there is more to the situation than the conversation currently offers. Ogden explores our society’s extremely problematic values when it comes to dealing with sexual assault; “What were you wearing?”, “How much did you drink?”, “You were asking for it”, “You’re making it up”. All while sexual predators such as Brock Turner and Andrew Picard have the justice system wrapped around their privileged fingers. There is no point denying that the justice system prioritises their voice and the future of the attacker over the victim’s.

Colder Water’s depth of field focuses on Ally (Alice Brittain), Louise (Jess Reed), and Ellie’s (Laurie Ogden) internal perspectives of female connection, layering these women with intense humanity and interest. Ogdens depth of field allows Colder Water to artistically show a ‘social template’ wherein the attacker’s dialogue and privilege is removed. This template is something our society and justice system should be employing.

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In addition to Ogden’s use of subtlety, she liberates and showcases a lesbian dialogue between Ally and Ellie. Other than the series Orange is the New Black or the video game Life Is Strange, I’ve found that most theatre, art, or television I’ve engaged with is (mostly) heterosexual, or includes a gay-male character. Colder Water introduced me to a lesbian dialogue on stage. It was heart-warming to watch as the piece didn’t focus on the fight for LGBTQ+ rights, but rather the everyday lives of a couple, which I found enlightening to watch. Especially Knowing that artists such as Ogden are composing work about homosexual experience without a political drive – in regards to their rights. Again, Colder Water serves as a template for showing that we’re in the 21st century. Lesbian relationships are more than acceptable and shouldn’t be excluded from art and theatre.

Overall, I think Colder Water is pretty neat and has potential to rock the feminisms world! A massive well done to Laurie Ogden and Celine Fortenbacher-Poplawska and the cast/crew of Antonym Theatre! I give you five stars! (literally)

Peace, Love and Cacti

Courtney McMahon

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p.s. not all dialogue on Netflix is cheap

 

 

Words by Courtney McMahon
Images courtesy of quotefancy, Antonym Theatre, Theatre N16 and Courtney McMahon

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Angry

I’m writing this piece because I’m angry. I’m so angry and tired and sad, and I don’t know what to do about it.

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I’m angry that my university decided to raise their fees, because a rule changed, so they could. Because they love to paint themselves as a liberal arts university, and boast the artists who come from the environment they create, but don’t love those artists enough to allow their next generation to flourish. Because the government want to perpetuate an elitist university output.

I’m angry that women in Poland had to protest so hard to maintain control over their own fucking bodies. That women in places like Ireland have to travel to other countries on their own, for a procedure. That in this day and this age, we still have to shout, not even ask, for control. Other people have more right and dominion over what they do not own, than we do.

I’m angry that women are still being determined by their appearance. That the Girlguiding association ran a survey and found that a third of girls between 7 and 10 had been made to think by people that their appearance was the most important thing about them. Because they’re made to feel that whatever goes on in their head just doesn’t matter.

I’m angry that clothes for young children are so gendered that we present women as princesses or socialites, and dress them solely in pink, whilst boys clothes are covered in slogans that encourage them to be troublemakers and messy.

I’m angry that Kim Kardashian was attacked, and because she’s a woman who makes money from her appearance, people reacted with scorn, and cynicism. Whatever you might think about Kim Kardashian as a pop culture figure, she is a human being, and to blame her is abhorrent.

I’m angry that Brock Turner was in jail for half of his six-month sentence, and that the media portrayed him as the victim, whose swimming career was ruined.

I’m angry that Theresa May wants to chuck out foreign doctors, but only once we’ve found English replacements. I’m angry that these people who have made homes and careers, and worked hard as doctors and nurses and in the NHS, to look after everyone without discrimination, are being made to feel unwanted by the Tory government.

I’m angry that Donald Trump can do whatever he likes and people will still vote for him. And I’m angry that because Hilary Clinton is a woman, he can continue to do whatever he likes, and will still seem like a better choice to people who have a problem with that.

I’m angry that police in America can shoot and kill black people, and get away with it.

I’m angry that I still get men mansplaining. I’m angry that when they ask a question, they ask the other men, not me.

I’m angry that I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know how we can keep fighting, and shouting, and making a mess, before it stops making a difference. How long can you keep protesting before it’s not a protest anymore? It’s important to talk about these things, but I’ve had enough of blog posts, they don’t make a difference. I want to shout and scream and rage, and make people understand that it’s not okay. But I don’t know how.

I don’t know what we can do. And that makes me the angriest of all.

 

 

Words by Sian Brett.
Images courtesy of Eva Crossan Jory, The Independent, The Daily Beast and The Guardian.