I find it quite hard to know what to make of this play. It felt quite experimental and held my attnetion most of the time. The words themselves were at times poetic. However, the points it made seemed quite trite and I'm not sure I properly understood what this writer - Ella Hickson - was trying to achieve with some of the twists and turns - e.g., the introduction of a real baby on the set.
We start with the relatively easy half hour of dialogue between a male director and a young aspiring writer in which she treats him to an angry feminist rant about the male domination of theatre and how impossible it is for a young writer top know if her work is really any good if the approving director also asks her to sleep with him.
Then the supposed very awkward female writer and overbearing male director of this piece appear and answer a Q&A with (planted) members of the audience.
Next we have a vignette of the life of the writer who has been offered the chance to write a film script. Her football-boot selling boyfriend is exasperated at their reluctance to accept the role - so exasperated that he empties their meal onto her laptop.
Then there is a piece in a forest where the writer gets into lesbianism.
The director comes on and says that the play needs a proper ending and the forest scene is too weird.
The proper ending is the writer and her girlfriend living a quite bourgeois life and experimenting with a strap-on / dildo.
It was definitely well-acted but I'm afraid that if the purpose of writing is - as the play suggests - to change the world, this piece failed for me.
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