On the heels of Nightclubbing, a solo with live music that was the multi-disciplinary, intersectional British artist Rachael Young's first stab at this year's Fringe, comes this equally striking, sweaty and orange-scented duet with fellow performer Marikiscrycrycry. Claiming a space that initially features flashing coloured lights and dry ice, and clad in tight, simple dark underclothing and fishnet stockings, the pair strut, sashay and vogue with attitude galore to a heavy-duty recorded soundtrack. At first the vibe is rowdy-cool, but when they lower their tops, don dark glasses and stilleto heels and slow down, the tone waxes ceremonial without ditching its sex appeal.
These are two black bodies on display, but best not to make any assumptions about the people inhabiting them. We listen to the flagrant, flatulent railings of a homphobic preacher. Meanwhile the duo is confined to a block of light that looks like it's cutting off their heads. Each repeatedly touches their own shoulders, like a rote religious gesture. There's quite a bit of camp hair-flicking and catwalk-style strides to Sylvester's great 'Do You Wanna Funk With Me?' As the music plays they squat, do the splits and mince about in an almost parodistic fashion. It's not only a kick to watch but packed with cultural and gender-related implications. In a final, extended passage they transition into hat-wearing peelers of oranges, eventually offering slices of fruit to us before smashing the remainder against their flesh.
Out is strong, smart, sensual and marked by a real command of theatrical devices and space. It makes you work by making you think, but you may well feel rewarded for it.