Writers and Directors: Mina Orak and Justin Atkins
Mina Orak is a fireball of a performer: a shimmering, red-headed young Turk, confident, passionate, and vivid in her story. She’s a natural performer, happy to strut across the stage, dance and disclose her innermost feelings (when she feels like it.) The Little Death, sub-titled ‘in search of my orgasm’ is a cabaret show based on the ‘true events’ of one woman’s quest for ultimate sexual satisfaction.
The faux dramatic tension is set up from the onset when Orak is informed by her GP that she has six months to achieve an orgasm – or she will die. This absurd inciting incident triggers a sexual odyssey of discovery, dance, intimate conversations with her vagina and frank disclosures with her roommate, Justin Atkins who plays himself and is co-creator of this production. He is as understated and reflective as she is loud and reactive. They are an odd couple and their contrasting dynamic works well on stage.
There are some moments of surreal hilarity, especially through Cornelis Joubert’s portrayal of Mina’s vagina in an outlandishly fabulous costume by Grace Carolan and Andrea Pacheco Ozua. In silver leggings and platform shoes, Joubert wears something like an insane Easter Bonnet, a pink ruffled head construction (which one presumes represents labia) through which pokes a garishly made up, bearded visage – utterly mesmerising. The vagina cannot speak human language but communicates through a kind of pre-verbal Bill and Ben, The Flowerpot Men. Look them up on YouTube to hear what vagina language sounds like in The Little Death.
Bawdy, lewd and entertaining, the young audience certainly laps it up However, there are questions set up that remained unanswered, and issues hinted at but never explored. Cultural and gender barriers are lightly tapped. Suggestions Orak may have had an eating disorder are expressed through her desires to make out with ‘big, beautiful women.’ Anxieties about her own body intermittently surface but lead nowhere. She understands her lack of orgasm is not mechanistic but the symptom of her inability to deeply connect with another human. Atkins notes her inability to respect others doesn’t help while the idea of orgasm as entitlement, rather than an act of sharing or generosity, is the elephant in the room.
On press night, the play is late to start which means that a large and excitable crowd are kettled into a very small space at the King’s Head Theatre unable to descend to the theatre until 15 minutes after the advertised start time. This doesn’t feel safe or professional.
The Little Death, nominated for the MullenLowe NOVA at CSM, offers a lively night’s entertainment. It’s great to see such vibrancy of potential but more discipline is required in both the construction and production to raise it to the next level. Thematically, the play is interesting. Structurally it’s patchy and dwindles into a solipsistic vortex of self-examination that is testing. Ironically – or perhaps deliberately – this is a play about climax that offers none to the audience. But with time and development, it will hopefully evolve, grow and reach the heady peak it is so craves.
Runs until 31 August 2024
