Writers and Directors: Laura Turner and Stephen Gillard
Clapham’s Omnibus Theatre’s residency of diverse productions and co-productions from the Chronic Insanity Theatre team moves towards its close with an outing for Laura Turner and Stephen Gillard’s zippy meditation on the meaning of self-respect, Body or Soul. The piece echoes Nick Payne’s Constellations, with the narrative splitting into parallel universes based on a fateful decision made by the protagonist. Neither storyline feels fully fleshed out, and what motivates either iteration of the character emerges unclear, but there is enough here to make for a thought-provoking and often humorous evening.
Ambitious twenty-something social media expert and budding musician Jessica needs a job. Controversial fast fashion giant Gapoo, burdened with a dodgy reputation for using child labour in its supply chain, offers her big money to become a brand ambassador. Much to the chagrin of dull, pompous schoolteacher boyfriend Callum (Simon Payne), the job means long days and busy weekends. “Am I selling out?” she asks her best friend and online sex worker Beth (Stephanie Riley in great comic form).
The Sliding Doors moment arrives when one version of the character Jessie (Laura Turner) accepts the job. The other takes a different track and becomes Jessa Bae (Emily Vickers), a live-streaming adult ‘model’ with a niche in delivering online Bridgerton-style sexual fantasies. Which one will emerge with a better understanding of self-worth and exploitation? Is pimping yourself out on social media for a morally repugnant brand worse than getting naked (and more) for money for male devotees of “The Bridgerton Boudoir”?
One cannot help feeling there are more professional choices available to women than sex work or as apologists for modern slavery. Neither storyline convincingly explains what motivations and experiences drive Jessica to conclude these choices are closed off. Nor, for that matter, how a bright, sparky woman ends up with a comprehensive dud like Callum. But the writers have a refreshingly agnostic view of sex work, without ignoring its downsides, and explore the mechanics of online ‘modelling’ with eye-opening wit. “I’m not a Weatherspoon’s,” Jessie assures Beth of her new venture, “It’s £20 for a rump and £50 for the full fillet mignon”.
Turner convincingly tracks Jessie’s journey from a money-oriented defender of the indefensible to something more redemptive. Payne efficiently handles rapid transitions in dialogue between each version of his girlfriend, though one wishes his character was more fleshed out. The piece has a firm viewpoint on which iteration of its protagonist emerges with her dignity most intact. Some may feel it glosses over who exploits and who is exploited in each scenario. Ultimately, you may wish Jessica would dump dopey Callum and just return to her music.
Reviewed on 22 January 2025