If the Edinburgh fringe has never really begun until the obligatory shock of full-frontal nudity, this year’s festival can be pronounced well and truly open with Eloina Haines’ one-woman act. Directed by Louise Orwin, this is a very naked show indeed, speaking of – and showing us – the labia up close. But there is nothing gimmicky about it.
Haines walks in wearing an accordion. After some high jinks – notes are comically played in a punk rock ad-lib – she divests herself of the instrument to reveal a well-positioned shrub of coriander in lieu of pubic hair, and below that two pieces of raw, dangling beef.
The physical comedy is a delight but the tone shifts as she tells us that at the age of 10, she felt so self-conscious about her labia, she set her mind on labiaplasty. This show is clearly personal but is more than one woman’s journey of self-acceptance. Haines fills the piece with testimonies from many others – all heard as voiceovers – which together accrete to a kind of Vagina Monologues for gen Z’ers. Some have been told their labia are too big, too unsymmetrical or “ugly” by partners or even their mothers. One talks of taking a pair of scissors into the bath in desperation to cut off the body part. Mother and daughter relationships are explored and Haines’ own mother sits in the front row, intermittently called on to be part of the show.
What rises so often in the testimonies is the terrible weight of social expectation as well as shame and self-disgust. We listen as Haines slams a hammer into a piece of beef or sits chopping the coriander. Sammy Metcalfe’s sound design heightens the emotions and by the end there is genuine laughter along with tears.
The majority of the show takes place with Haines balanced on a medical dissecting table (could there be a more apt venue for this show than an anatomy lecture room?) with legs wide. “This is a safe space to look and inspect,” she says, and adds: “This is also my safe space so please don’t be weird.”
Haines knows how to switch the tone to lightness but never flippantly. It may not be for the timid – a man seemed almost to faint in the show I attended – and yet it feels so soulful, profound and ultimately joyful that it is necessary viewing for all.
At Summerhall, Edinburgh, until 13 August
In the UK, the charity Mind is available on 0300 123 3393 and Childline on 0800 1111. In the US, call or text Mental Health America at 988 or chat 988lifeline.org. In Australia, support is available at Beyond Blue on 1300 22 4636, Lifeline on 13 11 14, and at MensLine on 1300 789 978
