Review: BOY PARTS, Soho Theatre

The 2020 literary smash hit Boy Parts has come to the stage. Eliza Clark’s novel is as gorgeously unfiltered as it is psychologically nasty.

It features ruthless violence, graphic sex, bona fide sadism, and a perfectly unethical anti-heroine. Irina “scouts” (read: picks up) men in the streets of Newcastle and photographs them in extremely compromising, outrageous positions. An invitation to showcase her work in London elicits a spiral of self-destruction and brutality towards her subjects. This acerbic, often disturbing, always magnetic book becomes 80-ish minutes of elegantly crude confessional written by Gillian Greer. It’s interesting to see a focus of this kind on a wholly irredeemable character.

Irina’s psychopathic tendencies are increasingly amplified by Aimée Kelly. From vitriolic views to savage ambition, we’re introduced to a 20-something woman who revels in her trauma. Boy Parts sees a mean girl gone bad: the team deliver a terribly intimidating, inconsiderate artist with a frightening, dangerous charisma. Greer’s might be one of the best page-to-stage adaptations we’ve seen recently. She transposes Clark’s voice exquisitely, establishing Irina’s obsession with male aesthetics with understated semantic flourishes and a precise choice of words.

Where Irina is intellectually pretentious, the text is curated but accessible and where she is socially snooty, her propensity to prey on the downtrodden and vulnerable turns into a glint in the actor’s eyes and a change in directing tone. Kelly’s presence and personality demand attention. Irina’s flatmate Flo becomes an annoying squeak combined with girly gestures; the men she meets are awkward and easily embarrassed with downward glances and deep caricatural voices; the rest of the characters are nearly inconsequential. Directed by Sara Joyce, the piece is enthralling. She finds beauty in the ugliness, never judging the horrifying plot points, but never excusing her cruelty or deceptions either.

It’s very difficult to remove the human inclination to empathise with a protagonist, regardless of their villainous qualities or murderous exploits, but we tend to do that here. We understand her need to feel, her desire to succeed, and even the exploitation of her femininity. Her actions remain of pristine evilness even from her point of view. It’s a fascinating juxtaposition.

Joyce plays with space and colour, positioning her actor before a series of black frames designed by Peter Butler that vaguely recall the structure of an old timey camera. Visuals are, obviously, an important element (particularly in the second half of the show). Colour starts to engulf Irina, a mesh screen lifts to intensify the hue and create more depth while she descends further into the darkness. Quick allegories in video form interject but never take over, leaving Kelly alone at the wheel of her narrative.

Making it a monologue instead of a play with an extensive cast was a wise decision, as was all the trimming of the plot. Greer leaves only the essential on the stage, pointing the spotlight firmly on Irina’s relationship with the world and building a jolting rollercoaster of pure emotions. While this version of the bestseller isn’t as consistently shocking as its original material, it’s sharp, entertaining, vicious, thrilling, morbid, uncomfortable, and alarmingly irresistible. It's one for the feminists who want to be challenged and the gender-studies-TikTok-girlies who love to forensically dissect human nature. Definitely one to see. 

Boy Parts runs at the Soho Theatre until 25 November.

Photo credits: Joe Twigg Photography

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