Review of Main Character Energy: Boudoir Cabaret Deconstructs Temi Wilkey

Temi Wilkey is chasing the spotlight – quite literally. She scurries to bask in its beam as it threatens to elude her before her “groundbreaking one-woman show” has even begun.

A fluffy white rug, velvet banquette, and a feather-edged pink costume bring a boudoir, showgirl energy to the space. The show serves as a vehicle for Wilkey’s talents and impressive CV, which she tells us will finally earn her the acting roles she deserves. Indeed, her real CV is nothing short of remarkable. Her first play, The High Table, won awards. She’s written for the hit sitcom Sex Education and has performed live in her drag king persona.

Main Character Energy sets itself up as a serious drama, but the arch punchlines and deconstruction of stage tropes begin rolling in right away. We meet eight-year-old Temi, who carries her talentless classmates in the school play, then twelve-year-old Temi, dreaming of starring in the Black sitcoms she watches every afternoon, seeking attention from her doctor parents, and scribbling her secrets in a fluffy purple diary. Fast forward to adult Temi, a classically trained actor – so why is she always relegated to supporting roles?

Wilkey, co-founder of the Pecs drag king collective, brings the messy, sexy energy of a late-night cabaret to Summerhall’s Roundabout. She lip-syncs to Shakespearean monologues, cavorts to a soundtrack featuring Anastacia, Amerie, and Princess Nokia, and engages with the audience (a protracted staring competition is a hilarious highlight) as the facade of the show artfully crumbles.

In the midst of this controlled chaos, her inner thoughts interrupt: why does she crave attention? Is she always appealing to white institutions? Why does she still yearn to play Juliet even after the racist abuse aimed at Francesca Amewudah-Rivers? Yet Wilkey quickly catches herself; the show must go on: “This isn’t a show about race or oppression, it’s a show about me!”

Main Character Energy is the perfect send-up of the one-woman show – playful, knowing, and delightfully overdramatic.

At Roundabout @ Summerhall until 26 August.

Source: The Guardian