Angry Young Women in Low Rise Jeans With High Class Issues
No amount of flashing of flesh can make up for the distinct lack of jokes or plot here
This article is from 2014.
This offering from the New York based group who last year brought us The Inventor and The Escort makes British farce look distinctly layered. Unfortunately no amount of flashing of flesh, nipple or arse cheek makes up for the distinct lack of jokes or plot. It consists of a series of almost unrelated scenes populated by a series of eye-rollingly stereotypical female roles - a hormonally crazy girlfriend, the loud mouthed whore, the frigid feminist - they're all here. Meanwhile the male roles aren't much better. The frank sex talk is about as ground breaking as a page from Cosmo. Some people like to take it up the ass and that's OK. Really? Then the fusty feminist dispenses unbelievely patronising advice - apparently, ladies, we don't have to wear thongs if we don't have to! Or wax our bush! Who knew? Maybe we should start thinking for ourselves. Maybe we already did.
The only way this show could work is as a frothy, titilating frolic taken in after a fair few beers late at night, so why it's been programmed in the 5.45pm teatime slot is anyone's guess.