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It’s a never-ending story. Romantically disenfranchised men with deep insecurity and misplaced anger channel their own shortcomings, perceived or real, into an ideology that projects their lack of personal success onto the women that use their agency to decide for themselves. The excuses are always the same too. They don’t know what they want, they only go for the “hot” guys, they don’t know how good they’d have it with me. A simple “no thanks” is enough to send these basement-dwellers into a tailspin. The irony is, their problems are totally self-inflicted. It is actually not hard to exist and be friends or romantic with women without being a disgusting freak. Time and time again though, you witness these same types of guys stepping on the same rakes. They want a relationship (mostly for the *benefits*), they go gung-ho into trying to pick-up, they overestimate her interest, they come on too strong, and then they get mad at her for being put off… there’s a common denominator here boys, and it ain’t her!
Blackpill chronicles one down-on-his-luck man, Eli (played by Oliver Tapp), and his spiral down the incel rabbit hole. The catalyst for this journey being a suddenly exposed set of texts to an ex-partner, who shows them to his workplace. The consequences come around to bite him, and we watch on as this man DARVO’s his way into a web of dishonesty, misogyny and narcissism. He finds himself confiding in the anonymous ‘Naz’, whose identity isn’t revealed until the play’s climax. It’s ultimately a slow-burning realisation that he has officially travelled too far over the horizon. Throughout the play, Eli’s psychology prevents him from properly self-reflecting. We see this even in its closing moments. Not being given the satisfaction he was looking for in confronting his ex Carina, he must face the cold reality that his words and his actions affect people in genuinely real ways. “Sorry” doesn’t restore her sleepless nights, or undo the fear and trauma of reading such bile directed at herself. Is Eli beyond help? No, not necessarily. Does he deserve to simply be forgiven for what he’s said? No way. The only way he can mend his life is by confronting his own darkness head on, and quit making others do it for him.
Blackpill is a fantastically structured piece of theatre. It’s equal parts humourous, equal parts hellish, with a keen emphasis on ensemble choreography. As if they were a hivemind controlled by some unknown source, the dancers are almost mechanical in their movements. As they move us deeper into each act, subterranean trap beats command each pounding step, each jerk of the hip. The sense of urgency rises. The dark underworld of inceldom is merging with our realm, engulfing us in its doom. On a staging and performance level, this show is an absolute feat, dare I say; a masterclass. This level of immersion is particularly hard to achieve when you’re working in an even larger space than you had previously. The cast and crew pass the test with flying colours.
The writing is equally as powerful. Deft are its many witticisms, the deeper portions still offer plenty of food-for-thought. The contrast in Eli’s confidence as he moves between Naz’s server and his own family and friends is stark. Through his interactions with Naz, we are offered momentary glimpses into Eli’s potential for better, which makes his inability to take that next step all the more frustrating. Naz is becoming even more unhinged though; more desperate. His final hurrah is an absolutely bone-chilling manifesto of entitlement, psychopathy, and the kind of impotent fury that would put the worst dictators in history to shame. The only real fault I can find in the writing of this show is that Eli and Naz’s back-and-forths can run a little bit redundant. The same kinds of conversations happening over and over, whilst telling of both’s inability to progress as people, makes for some occasionally unstimulating viewing. Naz’s anonymous, booming voice can be tough to follow as well, requiring me to glance at the subtitle screen a bit too often. Meaning I miss a lot of the action happening on stage, the body language of the characters, just so I can make out or double-check what was said by Naz. Not a deal-breaker, but would be something to consider if there were to be any future installments.
Don’t ignore these people. Don’t downplay their words. Don’t validate these people’s insecurities. They are functionally faulty, ideologically dangerous bottom-feeders who want to bring women down to their feral level. This is not something to aspire to, or something to aid. Inceldom needs to be unequivocally rejected at every turn. Especially the blackpill sort. These freaks still blame women for something they already think is innate about themselves. The level of mental gymnastics required to think this way leaves them beyond the point of return. Don’t trust any media that acts as apologia for these fools either. That kind of soft propaganda is equally as insidious, giving these ideologues a platform to spew their nonsense free of actual criticism is just about the total opposite of a civic duty.
Dan Will Review 