CUSP

The husky vocals of Jamie Alexandra wisp around the double bass player standing in the centre of the room, and this qualified sexologist promises to ignite conversations and cultivate a safe space for positive sexuality. We’re told this will be the education we should have already had.

But first she sets the scene with its overwhelmingly negative aspects: it’s depressing and rightfully shaming to hear some statistics on harassment, abuse, and violence – largely at the hands of straight, white men – Alexandra rolls off an incomplete list of her own personal experiences, starting from age 12 to now, and sings a chorus of ‘forget my number, forget my name’. It’s sobering stuff. And now that we know what we don’t do, we can focus on how we can be better…?

Well, not so much. Alexandra certainly knows a lot about the complex relationships between society and sex, and the dimensions of politics, religion, economics, and gender. She also knows how to titillate with revealing costumes and generously shared sensuality. Yet whilst framed as cabaret, it’s more of an academic presentation of how our societies have constrained every aspect of our lives, mostly to suit those in charge. This is good stuff, but with the audience’s overwhelmingly positive reactions to some of what she says that elsewhere would be controversial, it’s affirming what we already know: she’s preaching to the converted.

The band are great, Alexandra’s voice is wonderful, and she interacts well with the friendly crowd; there could have been a lot more of that. She is on the cusp of something big… then wraps up the show all too soon, and we’re left feeling like we’ve been in a classroom, where this has been just the first lesson. Perhaps that lesson is to leave them wanting more…?

Review by Mark Wickett

To check out our round-up of Adelaide Fringe reviews, click here.