Propolis Theatre’s Spill originated as part of the ‘Made in Bristol’ programme at the Bristol Old Vic. Recordings were made of thirty-two young people being interviewed about sex, and what they said was transcribed word for word. There was then a selection process, with the aim of finding material that was varied and which focused on individuals who were still at an exploratory stage regarding their own sexual identity. The play begins with a cacophony of voices as eleven actors enter, all talking simultaneously. We are at a party and the mood is animated and upbeat. The voices fall silent and the verbatim accounts begin, each delivered with the same hesitations, repetitions and inflections as heard in the original interview. There is swift intercutting between the separate stories, and gradually we come to understand each interviewee as a distinct personality. At first the emphasis is upon early experience, or simply the lack of it. A young man eats popcorn while earnestly explaining how very much he would like to have a relationship, but he is painfully gauche and his clumsy attempts are unlikely to succeed. Peer-group pressure to lose one’s virginity is powerfully conveyed with unison finger-jabbing, and macho posturing is seen in vividly choreographed strutting. As in London Road, some sequences are delivered in song.
There is much in Spill that is excruciatingly funny and, to these old ears, downright peculiar – I shall never look at a shower curtain in quite the same way again. But in general we are not invited to mock, but rather to empathise. One of the characters is a poetically articulate gay man who ruefully recognizes that his experiences so far have clearly fallen far short of his aspirations. His desire for ultra-romantic trysts complete with Rachmaninov accompaniment is very funny but also rather touching. We also see that the ignorance and naivety that characterises so many early sexual experiences often leads to far from amusing consequences. There is an especially moving story of a young woman at university who for three years had to walk past the green van in which she had endured a date rape in a drunken encounter with a fellow student. Many of the stories are delivered in very inventive ways, such as a very clever sequence where an identically dressed male and a female actor stand together and in unison speak the words of a young person struggling with difficult and as yet unresolved transgender issues. At times it is the simplicity of the presentation that packs a punch, as when a young woman standing entirely alone gives a distressingly frank account of the painful consequences, both emotional and physical, of catching a sexually transmitted disease. However, the overall mood is celebratory, not least when people give startlingly frank accounts of their sexual fantasies. ‘I can’t believe I just said that!’ says one woman after a particularly uninhibited revelation, but she did say it, to wonderfully shocking effect.
An interesting aspect of Spill is the complete absence of any reference to rules and regulations. These young people live in a world where sexual behaviour is not constrained by religion, by law, or even by a generally recognized set of social norms. Faced with such freedom each individual is left to construct his or her own set of personal guidelines. Spill is a hugely entertaining show that creates vivid and varied portraits of thirty-two young people coming to terms with their own sexuality. It is by turns hysterically funny, poignant and thought-provoking. Finally, it is a celebration of the varied nature of human experience. I am sure its multi-talented, energetic cast will have great success when they take Spill to the Edinburgh Fringe. ★★★★☆ Mike Whitton 2nd July 2016
