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Anybody remember “unmentionables?” A
routine euphemism for those lacy items in the Victoria’s Secret catalogue, the term
might also be extended to tampons – now regularly hawked on TV – or, how about
body parts? Well, we’ve come a long way baby and there are no more unmentionables.
Welcome to The Vagina Monologues.
Eve Ensler’s little one-woman show also has come a long way since
its 1996 premiere, turning into something of a feminist phenomenon. There have been
national and international tours, sometimes with Ensler, a gifted actress as well as
author, sometimes with visiting celebs. Once you get over some initial embarrassment,
you’ll begin to understand why. The fact that I can write this review at all shows
that Ensler has done her work well.
In a scant 90 minutes the
show covers everything from hair to the instruments of torture found in the
gynecologist’s office; the horror of genital mutilation in Africa to the wonder of
birth. Most of it is hilarious; some of it, like the African statistics and a segment on
the rape victims of Bosnia, is terribly sad.
Framed by red, pink and purple
velvet draperies that look rather like the folds of a you-know-what, Ensler, black-clad
and barefoot, sits on a stool behind a microphone for the entire performance. She’s
47 but looks younger. Her initial aspect is somewhat flat and deadpan, as she explains the
genesis of the piece and her research. The questions she asked the more than 200 women she
interviewed included “What do you call it?” and the answers ranged from
“down there” to the highly imaginative “cootchy snorch.” “How
would you dress it?” drew responses like “glasses,” ”a baseball
cap,” “emeralds,” “a
tutu,” “mink,” “anything machine washable” and
“Armani.” “If it could talk, what would it say?” drew a range of
answers from “Get outta here” to “I want…”
This is all rather amusing but, once the actual monologues begin, with
Ensler taking on the persona of an elderly woman in New Jersey, a proper British lady
discovering her own sexuality late in life, a New York sex worker, a young lesbian -- both
her delivery and the show come very much alive.
She tells stories, some verbatim, some composites. She treats you to a
virtuoso symphony of moans. She makes you squirm and she makes you laugh. She also makes
you think. Ensler has used this show to spark awareness of violence against women and to
raise money for its victims. If she salts her material with humor, she peppers it with
interesting facts. For example: did you know that, in five states in this country, the
sale of vibrators is against the law? The same five states permit the legal sale of
handguns.
“I never heard of anybody committing mass murder with a
vibrator,” she notes.
The Vagina Monologues tends to be heavily attended by women.
It’s fascinating to look at the departing audience, all shapes sizes and ethnic
groups, all laughing and chattering and sharing their own stories as they spill out into
the street. Something has changed for many of them; the unmentionable has been celebrated,
made glorious, understood. But, before anything can really change, The Vagina
Monologues needs to speak to both sexes. Guys are you listening?
November 5, 2000
- Suzanne Weiss
