PORN.CAKE

Let them eat cake

PORN.CAKE bakes away on stage for 85 minutes and unfolds as a bizarre, mysterious and somewhat messy blend of masturbation, procrastination and mastication. Cake features strongly throughout.

In fact, like any good recipe, this play relies heavily on the choice of particular ingredients. It combines, folds and whips-up an unusual and clever stage set (a carpeted conversation pit), a fast talking collection of characters (mostly delivering the now ubiquitous theatrical form, the monologue), quick lighting changes (which are quite effective), a between the scenes commentary from Jamie Oliver (his voice over must have cost the GTC a small fortune!), minimal stage furniture and props (less is better), plus plates and plates of cakes coated in many coloured icings. Often, a good combination of ingredients, careful preparation, good timing and elegant presentation can result in a well-crafted, attractive and succulent product. Unfortunately, the creative recipe of this play does not give rise to a thought-provoking and entertaining comic drama. Porn cake falls rather flat.

Two couples, Ant and Annie and Bill and Bella, are modern late thirtyish professionals with very busy, very expressive and very empty lives. Their wild and wacky behaviour is somewhat forced and lacks conviction. Little is convincingly revealed about these characters’ inner lives. They are caricatures of modern man in mid-life crisis. They are grumpy, moody, argumentative, ego-centric, whinging, cringing and overly greedy for sex and food. So, they are not very likeable, or interesting.

The serial metaphor for their voracious and narcissistic appetites is the production and consumption of plate loads of gooey cake. This metaphor is half baked and over-done. To the point when the last five minutes of the play is wasted slicing up a gigantic blue cake and handing pieces out to those in the audience who are not yet porn gluten intolerant.

Stephen Carnell