TW: mental health conditions such as anxiety, depression and post-natal depression, discussions of sexual violence, usage of course language, drug references, depictions of fake blood and flashing lights.
I have a confession to make. I had never been to or knew where Flight Path Theatre was in Marrickville even though I live and breathe the Inner West. However this Valentine’s Day (or night), I rectified this by watching the play Secret Girl Stuff. I did not regret it one bit.
Secret Girl Stuff was a welcome exercise in conveying multiple stories within a short period; it did not let the audience down for one moment. It was brought to life by Cats in the Cupboard Productions — itself a striking name — lead by writer/director/producer Mikaela Corrigan and producer/cast member Nicholas Pavan, alongside stage manager/sound designer/operator Georgina Moore, and lighting designer Paris Bell.
Under the headline of Kaleidoscope, it is customary for every night to open with a different pre-show performance. In an engaging musical interlude, Clare Heuston performed self-written songs detailing personal experiences as well as funny anecdotes. It was earnest and broad in musical style, with one operatic song dedicated to Scott Morrison. His unanticipated image coerced the audience into laughter, with the lyric, “I thank God for getting rid of Christian… Porter” forever seared into my memory.
Nevertheless, the show began and I turned my attention to the stereotypical but worthy expressions of girlhood plastered across the walls; Taylor Swift, Katsushika Hokusai’s “Under the Wave off Kanagawa” or “The Great Wave”, Barbie, the franchise which-shall-not-be-named, polaroids, vinyls and decorative statements galore.
The play was an inviting and necessary series of vignettes on the transition from girlhood to womanhood, largely communicated in monologues or dialogues. The subject matter did not hold back; puberty, crippling periods, gay sexual awakenings, the spectrum of sexual experiences, party culture, ‘boys will be boys’ behaviour, gender expectations, unrealistic Reddit forums, peer pressure to ‘send nudes’, endometriosis, pregnancy scares, the scars of motherhood, intergenerational trauma, and fragmented mother-daughter relationships were all tackled. While many of these have been talked about endlessly and are not new concerns, they were depicted with care and nuance, and the lines effectively delivered to the audience in a pleading, and attention-grabbing manner.
Many of us who menstruate have been shushed when we vocalise that impending pain, and Corrigan reminds us that the “things that are “by nature exclusively female, should never be spoken aloud.” She also spoke to those with endometriosis, who are told “by 15 that it is normal to miss a week of school” because of their crippling periods, “at 19 they may never have a baby” and at 23 to seriously confront possibilities of “infertility”.
Hearing “I’m not scared of what’s growing inside of me, but myself…” led many audience members to nod in affirmation, as some mothers can be reluctant to articulate their fears about the drastic changes to their lives post-childbirth.
The line, “I recycle her mistreatment and use it against myself”, managed to indicate both the beauty and terror of a daughter absorbing her mother’s pain, as well as the self-awareness of knowing what it’s like to endure second-hand trauma.
Unfortunately, countless women have “had their first time taken away from them”, whilst others contend with the reality of rape culture. At one point, a character recites her shock when given a rape whistle by her own mother.
One of the most memorable vignettes was a tense argument between a couple, impeccably played by Nicholas Pavan and Sophie Persson. Nothing was off-limits; their work-life (im)balance, individual insecurities, and the dwindling intimacy beyond sex — and even then, Persson exclaims, “I lay there while you fuck my body without asking how I feel afterwards.”
Some scenes did lean towards clichéd or mythicised tropes of girlhood, but the overall picture was a series of hyperreal and raw documentations. While I do not relate to the catastrophe that transpired on March 25, 2015, I appreciated how this fervour and subsequent heartbreak were depicted.
It is crucial to note the intentional casting of six women — insert Bob Odenkirk saying “There’s my little women” — Sophie Persson, Lycia Gunawan, Izzy Azzopardi, Madi Hough, Ella Earle, and Angel Samu, whilst Nicholas Pavan was the token male diversity hire. Jokes aside, his judicial appearances enhanced the ability for the female perspective to take up space, unconditionally.
Persson was a standout amongst the cast due to the demanding roles played but Gunawan was outspoken, Azzopardi fierce, Hough pixie-like, Earle dynamic, and Samu affecting. Pavan was also perfectly cast for the male roles but never stole the spotlight from his colleagues.
The most powerful statement was left for last, with all actors coming out bloodied appearances, to recite a call for justice in the fight to stop violence against women.
“….Last place you want to be, he wants you to stay there.”
“…You can’t remember if you said no.”
“…You’re cheered down an aisle, but booed walking into an abortion clinic.”
Watching the show alongside family and friends coloured my experience as I saw inside jokes as well as real-life experiences being realised and recognised by the audience, adding a personalised touch that is not necessarily present within larger-scale productions. And as written by Corrigan, and articulated via her characters, “the rest is herstory.”
Get your tickets for the remaining two nights, and enter the code HONI35 for a discount.
