The title being no misnomer, We Want You To Watch demanded its audience’s undivided attention for the seventy-five minutes that it took for this liberating piece to thrust its vision on to us: a world without pornography. Consisting of a series of darkly comical sketches, the play’s loose narrative follows the quest of two gutsy women as they seek to rid the world of pornography. In doing so, we are exposed to an array of characters, from the misogynistic addict to the gaudy internet guru. The action is often shocking, inevitably succeeding in instilling their views in the unsuspecting audience.

While, obediently, the audience watched, it was difficult to ignore the powerful image that dominated the set: a woman’s face with eyes shut and mouth wide open. This image of the silent scream represented perfectly the focus on women’s voices and their absence, reflected repeatedly as the two protagonists used an isolated microphone to declare “We don’t know what we’re doing.” This dramatic technique worked well as a recurring motif, challenging the audience to decipher their own meaning; the play’s real success is its ability to show and never tell. Nevertheless, the integral message comes through clearly: it’s women who are violated and subdued by pornography and therefore, to some extent, the power is in the man’s hands to change this.

However, what was peculiar about the piece was that despite the strength of the views unapologetically presented, there was no real solution offered to the problem of pornography. Indeed, this irony encapsulated much of the play, with the individual sketches taking on ostentatious tones, emphasising the irony. There was a sense of light relief as the stage transformed to present Helena Lymbery’s excellent parody of the Queen, as the two protagonists urged her to sign a decree to ‘ban porn’. The scene allowed for an exploration of the dichotomy between porn and sex, with the audience sent into hysterics as the Queen attempted to physically represent what sex is really like. Here was the first representation of what sex is actually like for women. It bore no resemblance to porn.

The impression that the audience were left with, however, was the final scene as everyone, but the protagonists, exploded on to the stage, culminating in a climactic burst of energy. The shock levels peaked as the stage filled with possessed fetishists, the music swelling to match the outrageous displays on stage. As the lights came up, it was hard to forget the image of the old man, half-naked, vigorously riding a rocking horse.

But, despite the atmosphere the piece created within the auditorium, We Want You to Watch was a small production and Birch was the first to acknowledge this through the use of her leading women. Yet the idea that this piece was relatively insignificant in the wider debate about pornography was realised as the woman admitted “I am very small”. Indeed, this emerged as the play’s true message: the audience have a responsibility to tackle porn on a larger scale, taking the issue out, beyond the theatre.

William Rees-Arnold & Jessica Newgas

Image: Richard Davenport/The Independent