Iris is a one-person show and a debut for Dead Fruit Theatre Company, co-written and performed by Mish Fry, directed and co-written by Clementine de la Hunty, and stage managed by Domenic Hort. Iris follows a young woman’s spiralling descent as she reckons with guilt, her past, and questions of ‘who am I?’ (and ‘am I self absorbed for asking that?’).
The show centres on Iris and her diary. Well…not necessarily a diary, a book moreso. And it goes by a few titles: ‘How not to be a Cunt’, ‘How not to be a Shit’ and most famously, ‘How not to be a Bad Person’.
For a while, the audience is left wondering what event has left Iris feeling so guilty. We begin to get glimpses into her muddy past — stealing and breaking rubber toys in school or being fired from her job, for example. But there isn’t anything that seems to warrant her mad avoidance of her past, until we slip further down the spiral.
Iris deploys technology cleverly, using projection to portray Iris’ internal world of anxieties. The set is bare, bar a few milk crates, and is dominated by a large sheet strung across the stage. Throughout the show, pre-recorded shadows, past selves and physical manifestations of Iris’ thoughts are all projected on screen and seamlessly blended into Fry’s performance on stage.
As we hear Iris try to make excuses for some of her past mistakes, a shadow appears and begins to dramatically dig a hole as she digs her own grave of weak excuses. It’s difficult to pass judgement on any of Iris’ stories because her inner self is already two steps ahead. The little devil on her shoulder, complete with a monochromatic red get up, has beat you to it — “there’s a lot of talking about yourself”, “I felt, I felt, I felt”.
And before you can wonder if self awareness absolves her of her mistakes, she’s already asked that question too. Is she a psychopath? Hedonist? And does any of that matter if she’s self aware about it?
Her overthinking is exhausting and all-consuming. And when it feels that words can no longer express her anguish, Iris breaks into movement and dance. Fry’s dance background is clear; their movements, natural and fluid. At one moment they perform a planche on a stack of milk crates, using an incredible amount of control and strength.
In recounting a past relationship with an emotionally abusive partner, Iris begins to express her tumultuous feelings through movement as ‘Olympus’ by Blondshell plays. At times, Iris moves in unison and synchronicity with her projected self, whereas in other moments she actively works against it.
In line with the character’s inner tumult, Iris uses a non-stop stream of consciousness to express herself. In the occasional moments of silence, where Iris attempts to find tranquillity — she is interrupted by her intrusive thoughts, that come in on literal roller skates, gliding into her mind, “remember that time in Year 7 when you pooped your pants?”. It’s relentless.
Fry is magnetic, it’s near impossible to take your eyes off of them as they take you through an emotional ringer. It is no small feat to command an audience’s attention for an hour. Fry’s ability to flick between heart-wrenching scenes and lighter, comedic moments is a real credit to their performance and de la Hunty’s script development.
It’s exciting to see work that pushes the boundaries of what theatre can be with the use of technical production elements, especially on a smaller scale to what we’re seeing with ‘Cine-Theatre’ and the works of Kip Williams. Dead Fruit Productions have created a work that is not only technically impressive, but grounded and impactful. It’s one that will leave you thinking deeply. But don’t overthink it! You don’t want to fall down that spiral. Iris urges us to let ourselves be free from the prison of our inner critic.
“Set us free”.
Iris is on from September 17-21 at the Actors Pulse in Redfern as a part of Sydney Fringe Festival. I would say to grab your tickets, but closing night has well deservedly sold out.
