Yet in the gentle dialogues
between the sisters, often addressed to the audience and frequently
recalling childhood adventures, has a strangely non-committal tone.
Amy Cade discusses a variety of pornographic scenes in a calm, almost
wistful manner, while the tender scene when she cleans off her
sister's stripper make-up takes them back to a tale of a youthful
home theatre production.
The two women are naked for
most of the piece, but the atmosphere is less erotically charged than
melancholic: they share experiences, reflect on their different paths
before wandering tamely offstage, having dismantled the
stripper-pole. Throughout, they refuse to moralise - Amy notes it is
possible to take a face-full of cum and still be a feminist, and
Roseana comments that her identity is tied up in her feminism - or
probe deeper into the problems or industry of sex work. It's
tentative, suggestive, more concerned with presenting raw information
from their lives that developing any theme or agenda.
The repeated projection of
home videos is a constant reminder of how the two women grew up
together - the last sequence crassly suggesting that the desire to
dance around a pole might have been foreshadowed on one sunny
afternoon - but adds limited depth. When Roseana forces two crude
stereotypes together (the sensual lap-dancer and the booted, shaven
headed feminist) does the performance provoke.
There is clearly a personal
journey on display, and the ease with which the women slip between
discussing sex and family reveals their mutual empathy: the
structure, however, is loose and prevents a profound impact. Sister
lacks precision and focus, neutralising its potential. As
part of Roseana Cade's emergence as an important artist, it is an
intriguing and promising production, showing that she is capable of
addressing tough subjects in an original manner.
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