What do you think of when you think of quiche A sort of savoury tart thing your grandma eats? An average kind of meal but not exactly smashed avocado on toast? Slightly… eggy?
Ah well, Evan Linder and Andrew Hobgood’s script for ‘5 Lesbians Eating a Quiche’ might just reinvent the term for you. It’s like when Chris Lilley reinvented the word in J’amie: Private School’s term ‘quiche’ (see link here ). For those who are ‘hotter than hot’, except in this play, quiche becomes more of a way to express one’s… sexual frustration.
The secret lesbian society, formed in 1956 in mid-west America, proves a source of hilarity from start to finish. Beginning with innuendo, sly suggestions of sexual longing and a lot of excitement about eating quiche, this one hour play occurs in real time as five women lead the annual quiche breakfast.
We, as the audience, make up the rest of the society members. Each member of the audience is provided with a new female name (such as Nancy and Maude). Upon entrance, ‘The Susan B. Anthony Society for the Sisters of Gertrude Stein’ committee welcomed, talked at and slightly intimidates each show-goer.Margery( the boy in the audience who was frequently picked upon) was greatly rebuffed for not bringing ‘her’ quiche.
With their maxim of ‘No men, no meat, all manners’, even the mention of sausage in a quiche made Lulie (Harriet Troup) the president of the society furious (which definitely put vegetarians in a new light). The characters themselves were fantastically performed; Lulie was authoritative presence that made you pray her stern eye didn’t try to interact with you in any of the scenes. Highly strung, and determined, Harriet Troup played this part perfectly. Vern (Rebecca Kent) was the butch lesbian, ‘who just likes to play a lot of softball’. Her slouching posture and strangely seductive grin made her a counterpart to the newcommittee member, Ginny (Kate Crisp). Ginny’s seductive devouring of a quiche (whilst lying on a table) was undoubtedly the most hilarious moment in the play, offsetting the previous timidity of her character. Dale (Lily Carr) played the young girl with a surprisingly dark past, possibly the most surprising character, energetically engaging (and quite honestly, a little terrifying when she first welcomed me to my seat at the beginning of the show). Wren (Phoebe Taylor) had a vivacious presence and forceful manner, playing a more domestic, maternal figure who proudly proclaimed her homosexuality.
Their consistently accurate accents, great physical movement, group chemistry and exaggerated, farcical nature meant that each actress put a memorable spin on their own character. They riled one another up as events take a turn for the worse and made the hysteria hysterical and undercut with underlying eroticism.
A period drama which surprises you at every turn. It was lovely to see something so refreshingly funny performed; this politicised humour leaves you wondering if maybe quiche is more desirable than you ever thought.
If it wasn’t already completely sold out, I’d definitely recommend it.