Wearing little more than a reddish meat-coloured leotard, Ellie Dillon-Reams sets out to talk about being a woman, and feeling like a piece of meat. It’s not exactly a subtle metaphor, although this performance is teeming with metaphorical allusions, especially towards the animal kingdom. It’s also largely performed in verse, as she measures out her stories and thoughts beat by beat through metre.
It’s a difficult performance to review, particularly as a straight male, partly because it is a show so absolutely not aimed at my demographic, but also because clearly the chords struck with some female members of the crowd were more resonant. Indeed, the post-performance chat encouraged an expulsion of angst that was very loudly taken up by the women present in the audience. Moreover, there were some strong and heavy tears shed in some seats.
But regardless of gender or other aspects of personal identification, it would be hard to say there wasn’t a lot of low-hanging fruit in this piece. Jokes and skits about tampon shame, having to shave, unwanted attention from men and the like are as apt as ever, but the key is what new insight can be wrought from the observations. At times, sadly MEAT lacks there, as it’s not enough to just point out problems, even if surrounded by an accomplished and entertaining physical performance.
It’s still a very immersive experience, as Dillon-Reams pulls the audience gently into things, encouraging them to engage in various vocal ways, but never in a pushy or bullish fashion. It’s a good performance, but it feels simplistic, teetering on the edge of being something profound, but falling back on easy reference and some tired and over-familiar observations.