The Theatrical is the Political
This week, I decided to get political. Despite my unwillingness to consider anything that doesn’t contain clear awareness of performance theory and half a dozen opportunities for me to spout post-modern jargon, I went along to Initial Itch’s monthly showcase. Aside from shaming myself with a late spot of rambling performance criticism, I was treated to speeches from Glasgow’s parliamentary candidates between the familiar comedy, music and poetry turns.
Perhaps inevitably- given that the party has been rejuvenated by a media-friendly leader and a general disenchantment with the two-party system, Chris Young from the Liberal Democrats came off the best. Not only did he stay to the end- The Labour candidate was seen making a sharp exit, missing my later comment that I’d hoped to score some coke- he presented an economic analysis in rhyming couplets. Not usually my form of choice, it contained enough humour and intelligence to win over the audience in short order. Then he did one about Subway trains having sex.
Given the dry daring of Initial Itch’s main men Rob Jones and Stephen Redman, it was no surprise that the evening’s surprise candidate turned out to be Favourite Sin, performing a reverse striptease and provoking whistles from jaded theatre critics and causing the young men of the Pirate Party to huddle around their lap-top self-consciously. After a predictable routine from Labour- quite why he thought that supporting “hard-working families” was a good spiel in a room full of feckless artists is beyond even my classical education, Favourite Sin not only managed to pull off a witty, sexy debut but incite some of the most interesting debate.
Almost inevitably, the male SSP candidate announced he didn’t like burlesque, since it is demeaning to women. A female drama student from Glasgow University responded that burlesque was about empowerment, while another student, this time from the RSAMD, reminded him of Germaine Greer ‘s advice to male feminists- shut up and listen. Before going on to boast of his love for hip-hop- a complex form, but one that has not always steered clear of explicit misogyny, contradiction fans- the candidate admitted that he did like, in its place, nudity. I shouted “get ‘em off” and the audience chanted “Strip! Strip! Strip!” at him. That’s entertainment.
Come election day, I am radicalised enough to make comments about my political activity on Facebook. A fellow online activist- we’d be armchair revolutionaries if the broadband cable reached that far- pointed out that there is, indeed, a spot of Direct Action going on. Workers at Glasgow Culture and Leisure Services are on strike. While their intention is for better pay and hours, I like to think that they are protesting against the city’s arts policy, and have made the inclusion of contemporary Belgian dance on Tramway’s programme a deal-breaker. While actually reading to the end of the article strikes me as being a bit fanatical, I nod my head in their support: these are, after all, the people who show me to my seat, stop the Dali getting slashed again and make sure I have tickets for Les Ballets C de la B. If “Scotland With Style” means anything, it means respecting the infrastructure that has made us cool enough to attract the National Review of Live Art, the IETM and Peter Brook into the city.