WOMANz

This deceptively ambitious offering from Australian Tessa Waters finds her in character as a cosmic goddess, conceived when a star collided with a rock and became “totally pregnant!”. Welcoming us from beneath a red sheet, the glamourous deity disrobes in enthusiastic if not spectacular fashion and proceeds to deliver a nutty sermon on self-acceptance before our incredulous faces.

Waters inhabits her creation so convincingly that many are unsure how to respond. She gives us comedy, dance, clowning and theatre all at once, but surely some laughs must be less intentional than others? Is it possible that the well-lubricated audience ought to be moved by the choreography they clearly find so risible? Maintaining a Hispanic accent as she elucidates on her philosophy, the scatty insanity of Waters’ irrepressible alter ego is, for better or worse, accurately reflected in WOMANz's structure. The show isn't the product of a sound, focussed mind. It’s a mess that veers from the disappointingly slight, to the brilliantly dense.

On the one hand, donning a large plastic breast plate and encouraging us to fondle her mammary armour barely qualifies as entertainment. On the other, this behaviour is entirely consistent with the character. Is leading the audience in an extended dance tutorial a lazy attempt to pad out what amounts to a 40 minute show, or does it speak of Waters’ charisma and the strength of her motivational rhetoric that we so willingly participate. Does she really think "hugging" our genitals in public should be considered normal behaviour? Is she laughing inside as we ashamedly explore our bodies?

What is this supposed to be?