If National Theatre Wales is anything, it’s ambitious. This doesn’t always pay off, like last year’s effort to combine Kafka’s The Trial with commentary on our cost of living crisis. But tonight with Feral Monster, a musical that breathlessly tackles everything from classism to addiction to neurodivergence to the postmodern nuances of queer identity, it’s a roaring success for NTW.
Written with strong doses of autobiography by Bethan Marlow, Feral Monster follows Jax, a teenager with few prospects but a big heart. Jax is jobless, parentless (living with their nan) and loveless, content to aimlessly roam a rural Welsh village with their mates, perhaps indefinitely. Then Jax meets Ffion, played by the bubbly Lily Beau, who is confident, middle-class and well-read, and sparks fly almost instantly. Played with vulnerability-laced tenacity by Rebecca Hayes, Jax is a beautifully complicated but well-rounded character: assured in the fluidity of their gender and sexual identities even if they’re unsure of the language to express those facts. When asked in a job interview what their preferred pronouns are, they simply say, “whatever”, with a shrug.
Their disinterest in labels irks Ffion, who has fully embraced the categorisation umbrella of the LGBTQ+ rainbow and seeks to clumsily and insensitively unpack what’s preventing Jax from doing the same. While Ffion isn’t an outright antagonist, she’s certainly a figure of parody, and in a culture war dominated by jibes rooted in bigotry, it’s nice to hear some self-deprecating humour from the community itself: there’s a lot of comic value to be mined from truth and lived experience.
Other standout performances come from Carys Eleri – who primarily plays Jax’s hardworking nan and has arguably the best singing voice of the cast – and Geraint Rhys Edwards, who gets the most laughs in a small role as a (surprisingly politically correct) chippy owner, complete with pronoun badges and polyester peroxide wig. Along with the rest of the cast, they have their work cut out for them as Jax’s brain chorus, each voice representing the various impulses that Jax contends with in almost every social interaction: hormonal, logical, emotional and chaotic. It’s a highly effective way to represent a teenager’s inner, primal dialogue, while Izzy Rabey’s direction keeps energy levels around the sparsely furnished urban environment onstage high.
The other main star is the music, composed by Rabey and Marlow with help from Nicola T. Chang. With clear influences from drum‘n’bass, hip-hop, r’n’b, garage and rock, it’s a lively, modern and eclectic mix. Hayes’ vocal performance goes between Mike Skinner-esque spitting and soulful crooning, demonstrating a competent range and commendable retention of what must be twice or even three times an average musical’s lyric content.
However, as is often the problem with smaller productions, the choreography and limited cast can’t always match the scope of the score, and at times, performers don’t look wholly confident or seamless in their dancing or transitions. Conversely, some overly embellished ‘ghetto-ised’ performances teeter into caricature, brushing against the show’s quest for grit and grime.
Otherwise, the intersection of class with all of Feral Monster’s other issues is its most defining and successful trait. Unlike the majority of working-class stories made more palatable for middle and upper-class audiences who respond to sob stories and bootstrap-pulling narratives (particularly apt in the theatre-going world), Jax isn’t interested in being bettered as much as they are in just making it through each day with relative ease.
In an impassioned monologue delivered directly to the audience, they implore us not to toss people like them aside who are viewed as not contributing anything to society but still deserve to dream and desire and live nonetheless. It’s a stirring antidote to things like Billy Elliot and My Fair Lady, which are built around the idea of the ‘deserving poor’ being assimilated into higher society to succeed. In today’s world, this also applies to the constant pressure young people are under from social media to earn spotlights to feel like they matter. Feral Monster tells them that they unequivocally do, and they don’t need to be anything else about their authentic selves to prove that.
National Theatre Wales’ Feral Monster, Sherman Theatre, Cardiff, Tue 20 Feb.
On until Sat 24 Feb (tickets: £9-£22. Info: here) and touring Wales from Thurs 29 Feb-Fri 22 Mar (dates and further info: here)
words HANNAH COLLINS
