Franzi has just awoken from a coma. She’s been asleep since
the 1980s. She missed the Berlin Wall being torn down and she’s got up just in
time to hear about another wall being built. What is this strange world she has
woken up in? What has changed in thirty years and what hasn’t?
For a show that starts out as a dance party, with Franzi
unable to stomach the tastes of the West, it has a dark heart lurking
underneath. Don’t get me wrong, the absurdity of the piece – Franzi is convinced
that David Hasselhoff has saved the world in the intervening years – will have
you laughing and tapping your feet. But there is a lot to be serious about,
too.
The Wart on My Breast
is an unashamedly feminist look at what women have gained and lost over the
past thirty years. The history of women’s rights behind the Berlin Wall are
fascinating as contrast to now; many of the gains women strive for today were a
way of life in East Germany.
April Albert has a lot to say but this current version of
the show is a little bit formless; after a killer opening a reveal of the
Hasselhoff shrine, there’s no real dramatic shape to the show. There are some
really great moments of audience interaction, if April picks the right people,
though. And the dance breaks are a cool way to keep everyone involved and
excited, just before Franzi drops another truth bomb.
I am looking forward to seeing this show evolve.
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