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Review: Sun Bear, Park Theatre

Katy is not having a good day. First, people are asking to borrow her pens again. They don’t seem to grasp the idea of bringing in their own, instead they bug her day after day to use her pens, on her desk, to order an office lunch that she wants absolutely no part of. The day goes downhill from here. Sarah Richardson’s one-woman show is snappy, crass and tragic, all at once. Elements that start as comic, such as Katy’s bold statement that no one with a name that ends in a ‘y’ is a serious adult, become twisted…

Summary

Rating

Excellent

A darkly funny insight into the impact of abusive relationships

Katy is not having a good day. First, people are asking to borrow her pens again. They don’t seem to grasp the idea of bringing in their own, instead they bug her day after day to use her pens, on her desk, to order an office lunch that she wants absolutely no part of.

The day goes downhill from here.

Sarah Richardson’s one-woman show is snappy, crass and tragic, all at once. Elements that start as comic, such as Katy’s bold statement that no one with a name that ends in a ‘y’ is a serious adult, become twisted by the end as we learn where, and who, that belief has come from.

The vitriol with which she speaks about those around her, of colleagues who dare ask her to meet outside of work, or simply ask if she’s alright, stems from the recent end of an abusive relationship and her struggle to recover. Her anger has been bottled up for far too long, and the only way she can express it is by lashing out at those she openly admits have done nothing wrong. In many cases, she acknowledges, they’ve done everything right; tried to protect her, support her, all in spite of her furious rejection of them.

Katy’s funny, but she’s not particularly likeable. Richardson doesn’t make her out to be the ‘perfect’ victim favoured by many media representations of domestic violence, instead giving her the emotional range to be angry, aggressive, vulnerable; she feels like a real person, rather than a vessel to tell a story.

Scenes in the present day, as Katy deals with the workday from hell, are interspersed with flashbacks to the relationship and events around the breakup. Lighting choices are striking, cutting sharply between darker-toned reminiscences and a fluorescent present in a way that changes the scene without ever disrupting the flow of Richardson’s non-stop speech. It’s minimal but extremely effective, leaving the script to speak for itself.

And it’s a wonderful script, delivered with a quality that can only be the result of extensive, exhaustive rehearsal. Despite being a one-person show, Richardson bounces between characters so well that it easily seems as though there are far more characters on stage. Her whole manner changes with each person Katy speaks to, from tone of voice to the way she holds herself. It’s impressive, and something that could easily look messy in the wrong hands. It’s a testament to Richardson’s skill as both a writer and actor that these passages are delivered so seamlessly.

Sun Bear is funny, but never minimises the seriousness of its subject matter. The initial obfuscation of the motivation behind Katy’s hatred for those around her explodes in a monologue laying bare the wider ramifications of abusive relationships, how they impact individuals, both internally and in their interactions with others. It’s unflinching and reminds you that the reason behind a person’s behaviour can be far more complex than you may assume.


Written and produced by: Sarah Richardson

Sun Bear plays as part of Park Theatre’s Make Mine A Double Season until 13 April. Further informationa and bookings available here.

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