If you need curing of nostalgia for your misspent twenties, Laline Paull's play about the politics of sex and sorority might be just the panacea.
Equally, if you've not yet reached the age of 20, it may hold a vicarious allure. But if you are currently a twentysomething serial-monogamist suffering non-stop relationship angst, this is definitely one for you. Otherwise the pleasures of Paull's play are largely painful, and sometimes downright excruciating.
The title refers to the slang term for two women who have shared the same lover and we are in love-triangle territory here, with sexy photographer Val, honest social worker Mo and her rangy DJ boyfriend, Conor. Val suffers panic attacks and, having returned broke from Thailand, moves into the flat of doting former schoolfriend Mo. Conor takes an instant dislike to Val, but you don't need to be clairvoyant to know how that relationship develops.
We've been through this with chick-lit, but Eskimo Sisters is chick-dram for the Sex-and-the-City generation - a generation that obsesses over sexual liaisons as if they held the meaning of life. To this Paull adds the competitive tensions between young things whose only existential fear is of being "an also-ran". In the absence of conflicts that a course of Prozac wouldn't sort out, the play revels in hedonism and anguished self-consciousness.
Nina Raine's edgy production has a good eye for Ikea-lifestyle detail and there is plenty of actorly emoting. This captures what twentysomethings do best: emoting their way into an understanding of themselves, their friends and the universe. Amelia Curtis's Val is every girl's nightmare best mate (thin, blonde, manipulative and supple-jointed) while Katherine Tozer is a quietly controlling Mo. Mel Raido is a bit of a gooseberry as the boyfriend, but this is a rite-of-passage play about two girls being grateful for growing up.
Eskimo Sisters
