The Unicorn at the Arcola Theatre – review
A pulsing pre-show soundtrack of “WAP”, “My Neck, My Back” and “Dangerous Woman” plays in Arcola Theatre’s downstairs studio. We are then introduced to Andrea (Alice Lamb), dressed in a khaki bomber jacket and blue jeans, who breathes heavily into the microphone before running it over her body whilst the sound of a thumping heart plays. A tense, intimate soundscape followed by a series of welcoming-awkward-soft “hi”s to the audience, inviting us into confession.
Written after playwright Sam Potter read an anonymous article about sex addiction, The Unicorn takes its name from the term used in the swinging community for single women who are interested in meeting other couples. In this one-woman play, Andrea is a Unicorn. Or, she discovers that she is. Following a series of what Potter describes as “mild traumas” (a redundancy, a break-up), Andrea turns to casual sex to fill her days. When Tinder match Rocco takes her to her first sex party, Andrea’s world turns as she discovers that this new sexual world is something she really likes. Potter’s writing doesn’t shy away from describing Andrea’s various sexual encounters, as she tells us about the variety of parties she has been to, referring to her escapades as “sexual Cluedo”.
It is refreshing to see topics such as sex addiction and sex parties written and presented with such candour on stage, particularly because The Unicorn is written in such a way that there is no judgement for Andrea and her preferences – it’s actually fascinating to hear her talk about what she does. But really, this play and the audience are far more interested in the fact this may be Andrea’s coping mechanism for a trauma that runs far deeper.
Lamb, as Andrea, delivers a knockout performance. Under Tom Brennan’s direction she paces in squares around a pink fluffy rug, delivering hilarious observations such as that Tinder is just like a “novelty flipbook” as if she were a stand-up comedian. She transforms into the people in her life who undermine her choices and feelings, and delivers the dramatic fragments of a story about a Unicorn (the kind found in fairytales) under torchlight. Andrea’s confidence grows the more she pushes herself – into this new life and away from her traumas – and wry observations and offhand comments come thick and fast.
She is just as comfortable making eye contact with the audience as she is staring into space for an extended, perhaps uncomfortably so, amount of time, before coming back down to earth with a literal slap. This perhaps sums up The Unicorn – it is darkly witty, engaging and provocative but simultaneously sits on the precipice of something psychologically deeper.
