Leftfield theater agitators In Bed with My Brother spectacularly express their aversion to Jess Bezos
The new show from experimental theater provocateurs In Bed with My Brother culminates in a scene in which artists Kat Cory and Dora Lynn – standing naked in the dark – graphically fantasize about murdering and parting Amazon boss Jeff Bezos. With a longer period of time, you should think that there is a solid chance that this would lead to a kind of tabloid scandal: the Barbican is, after all, one of London’s highest-profile art institutions. Still, as it took The Sun almost a month to launch over a ‘wake’ ‘Globe production of’ Romeo & Juliet ‘this summer, I suspect’ PRIME_TIME ‘will be flying under the radar – a relief for the Barbican chiefs no doubt. But still, content warning: contains a longer fantasy about the murder of the world’s richest man. And also an Alexa who makes fart sounds.
‘PRIME_TIME’ is definitely not a smooth, self-righteous takeover of Amazon, full of facts and figures about the all-encompassing company and its complacent boss. In fact, if you do not know who Jeff Bezos is, the show hardly fills you: topless and ornate, Cory and Lynn pursue the scene and spit angrily at Bezos’ phallic Blue Origin rocket, wondering darkly why it is impossible to find his infamous leaked 2019 cock picture online longer. They seem genuinely furious at the fact that he is bald. They try to lure an Alexa who misunderstands almost everything they say and breaks virtual wind against them. Lately, a reference to Amazon workers having to piss on bottles is probably unfathomable if you do not already know what they are talking about.
But it’s a kind of magic at ‘PRIME_TIME’: almost everyone in the Western world is furious at Jeff Bezos at some level, and in a way, all that In Bed with My Brother does is push this into the realm of art. via entertaining absurdity and stomach-crushing bile. If it were just an anonymous billionaire, it would not have the same effect. As it is, the show works by gnawing at our justified dissatisfaction and darkest fantasies, then cheerfully going too far with them.
And you can dance to it! Earplugs are initially offered for a show that beats soundtracks of the late electronic musician and producer SOPHIE’s glorious music. Despite the poison, there is a playful abundance to much of the show, a fascinating push / pull balance of aggression and ecstasy, just rage and dumbass peeking around.
It’s not inflexible, and I suppose the most annoying element in some ways is the fact that its violent, almost pathological scams are based on a lot of well – worn live art tropes – nudity, wigs, loud music, bathos, mime. Is their will to offend really the equivalent of originality? Isn’t their refusal to take a curtain call just a little disgusting?
In the end, though, In Bed with My Brother is punk as fuck: You can pick holes in the Sex Pistols by saying that they were basically just pubrock with attitude, but the attitude was 99 percent of the point.
Still, I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about ‘PRIME_TIME’ until near the end, when Lynn, in the wake of Bezos’ murder, gives a passionate, utopian talk about how his killings saved the planet and made it a better place for women. of future generations. It is, of course, absurd, perhaps bitter, but it is a moment of almost transcendent beauty amid the horror and stupidity, a sign that there is more to this than the desire to resent. Whether they crash and burn or gain legendary status, In Bed with My Brother has turned their misanthropy into something special.