Writer: Philip Ridley
Director: Wiebke Green
Toni, a fresh-faced A-level student is a bit of a swot. She likes to read, writes essays on Sylvia Plath, and aspires for more. Her family hopes she might go to Oxford. She helps others whenever possible, especially oldies and it’s here, during a school “seniors” event, Toni first meets Michael, who becomes her first date, boyfriend, kiss. It’s a hot summer’s day and Toni, full of potential, has her life ahead of her. So far, so cute.
This one-woman show, confidently commanded by Georgie Henley, is approximately 90 minutes long and set in London’s East End, Philip Ridley’s favoured stomping ground, The inciting incident, one of casual violence, that propels Tarantula forward, plunges audiences from light, bright innocence, and birdsong to the random confusion of dark and senseless brutality.
Told through a series of fast, furious cuts, a powerful performance and framed by stark, shadowy lighting skilfully orchestrated by lighting designer, Ciaran Cunningham and associate Jack Hathaway, Tarantula is a combination of direct address and spoken dialogue. Dynamically directed on a bare stage by Wiebe Green, Ridley’s writing explores ambiguity, what’s real, imagined or dreamt with dramatic pace, humour, and nuance.
With her limited experience and understanding of the world, Toni tries to process what life has thrown at her. Older brother, Maz, short for Mason, is a wastrel and small-time drug dealer. Their relationship shifts from fractious siblings to a tighter unit after the incident. Is he just being protective or is he culpable in some way? The villain of the piece, never seen or named, is known only by the spider’s web tattoo on his neck.
An extraordinary piece of work, Tarantula is an intricate tale of identity, memory, trauma, and healing. First streamed in 2021 and created during lockdown, Henley, a revelation, offers a smorgasbord of thespian thrills. Alongside Toni’s arc as a somewhat unreliable narrator, Henley inhabits an entire cast. There’s some fierce physical theatre steeped in sensoriality and sensation; moments of silence and statue-like stillness when time stops and her plaintive impression of a sparrowhawk, an anguished cry from deep in her throat, which expresses pain that words cannot.
Tarantula does feel too long and loses pace in the post-trauma, second half when the family relocate and Toni rebuilds her world psychologically, emotionally, sexually. She takes control of her body and narrative and attempts to put the past behind her, although it has a nasty habit of erupting, unbidden, through the surface. But the unwieldy length of Tarantula doesn’t negate it as a terrific piece of contemporary theatre that reflects on how, in many ways, we are all trapped like flies, between the past, present, and future.
Runs until 25 January 2025
The Reviews Hub Score
Extraordinary
