There were times when it made me lean further back in my seat as if the Furies had just manifested in front of me. But most of the time it made me want to lean forward to drink in the snarky wit, the unapologetic bodies and the glitter and song that chart the accumulated pain and humiliations of 2,000 years of history and myth and male dominated storytelling.
“We’re harpies. We’re a three headed bitch. We’ve been guarding the gates. Now we’re throwing them open.” A hole in the ground. Three women are forcing their way out. They’re singing. They’re moving. They’re taking up space. And they refuse to apologise. “This is a take over. We’re taking over. You came here to look. We’re giving you something to watch.”