An irrepressible Holly Augustine turns in a jack-in-the-box performance as Chloe Jackson, a disaffected 21-year-old from Leytonstone who finds encouragement from her dad, who is training her to box.
From the off Chloe is f’ing and blinding as she wakes up late for a training session. A hilarious passage ensues whereby she manages to lock herself out of her house as panic sets in. Part actor, part narrator, Augustine effortlessly twists from one role to the other, with cameo asides as her mum, her dad, Len the trainer, and eventually her boyfriend Jamie. The pace is fast. Chloe is lippy, she’s feisty, and she won’t be anyone’s fool. And what’s more she’s just heard that women are going to be boxing in the Olympics for the first time, just down the road in Stratford. There’s just the little matter of qualifying first.
Brilliantly directed by Bryony Shanahan, this Snuff Box Theatre production of Bitch Boxer has transferred from a month’s run at the Savoy Theatre in London, and will be in Bristol till 23rd May. I suggest you get down to King Street fast and see why it sold out at last year’s Edinburgh Fringe Festival. This is powerful theatre, revealing layers of fight and feeling in a determined individual.
Augustine powers Chloe’s life within the confines of a simply marked square area on the floor. She conjures a foul-mouthed jumping bean of a woman, until there’s a life twist. Then she shows us a Chloe fighting not just partners in the ring, but her struggle with loss, and her own sudden vulnerability. I particularly enjoyed the tête–à–tête played-out between Chloe and her mum. Augustine’s body language changes and voice tones from one to the other were both hilarious and masterly. “Chin up!” “No, chin down, gloves up!”
Bitch Boxer thrives on its rhythmic choreography: Chloe’s feet dancing in the ring; Chloe’s breath gasping; Chloe’s skipping rope hitting the floor. We can always feel the pulse of this seething young woman. Seth Rook Williams’ lighting always follows her tightly, a swell pedal to the mood and a constant partner to the proceedings in the all black room that is The Studio.
A new book will be published soon that features the lives of female bare-knuckle fighters who plied their trade in eighteenth century Bristol. Three hundred years on, bashing the hell out of your fellow combatants still offers opportunities, and sometimes solace after all the sweat and pain. “You feel quiet, calm is a nice feeling,” reflects Chloe après-scrap. ★★★★☆ Simon Bishop
