"Bear". Burton Taylor Studio. Review by Victoria Tayler

I had always thought I’d choose the man. When women said they’d choose the bear, I (a self-proclaimed good feminist) purported to understand. But I always felt the hypothetical was so radical that it was, at most, symbolic, a bit surface-level even. I understood the point about male violence (I said) but I didn’t think it mapped very easily onto reality. Secretly, I chose the bear.

This play completely changed my mind. The writers of this production powerfully interpret the online meme/thought-experiment “would you rather be stuck in the woods with a bear, or a man” as a commentary on women’s autonomy, and the restrictions thrust upon it. It boldly questions what patriarchal power really is, how it sustains itself, and how it can be unsettled. Though it’s not afraid to dive into the seemingly endless darkness of such dynamics, it’s also a real story of hope, providing a reminder that no power dynamic is truly unshakeable, even if sometimes resistance can be unthinkable. 

Without revealing any spoilers (because you must see this), here’s the rundown. A young girl, played by the seriously talented Elouise Wills, is on a camping trip with her friends. When she ventures off to use the loo, she comes face-to-face with a full-on grizzly bear, and in a panic, shouts for help. Out of the woods emerges a man ready to save the day (Peter Hardisty), who, like a knight in shining armour, carries Wills off to his cabin in the woods. As the play goes on, it becomes increasingly clear that the danger posed by the bear is not the only threat to our protagonist’s safety. But she’s stuck in a binding power dynamic. Relying on the predatory man for (the illusion of) safety, she cannot flee without risking a confrontation with the bear. Effectively, “she has no choice,”  but to trust in the untrustworthy. 

In portraying it as such, the play interrogates the forces which shape heteronormativity and male entitlement, and explores how women respond to them. It’s a striking condemnation of patriarchy-packaged-as-romcoms, subverting all the tropes of chivalry with a male lead who scares more than he seduces. It asks some seriously confronting questions about the coercive (or at least, less than agentic) nature of heterosexual relationships within a society which sustains and relies on the exploitation of women. Do women really have the option to escape male violence, if even those who purport to protect them, benefit from structural misogyny? Our protagonist puts it best, face fallen, when she asks “it’s a campsite, why are there bears here?” 

Elouise Wills delivers one of the strongest acting performances I’ve seen in Oxford: she’s the real deal. The opening scene is just her, talking intimately to an unseen audience of camp-fire attendees, and yet it’s totally enthralling. When she screams, she really screams (I jumped) and when she looks at her saviour-captor with hate, one really feels the weight of her gaze. She captures exactly how it feels to silently put your guard up in front of a man, whilst maintaining the illusion of nothing being wrong so as not to alert him to the threat of your awakening. And her journey from reluctant acquiescence to resistance makes for an exhilarating watching experience. I left feeling genuinely inspired.

Our male lead (Hardisty) is certainly engrossing to watch, but he sometimes lacks when it comes to laying the foundations of his sinisterness. Perhaps he simply does not have the requisite experience to convincingly play an overbearing predatory man, which I suppose is comforting, particularly given the play’s cynical outlook on masculinity and morality. As the girl’s situation turns from inconvenience to emergency, she turns on him with questions, and he responds with indignant violence. But Hardisty’s performance is a little understuffed, it’s hard for the audience to feel the hateful emotion which fires his abuse. His rage happens, and we watch it, but we’re not really there.

But certain scenes of his do shine. His on-the-spot lying is so convincingly unconvincing that you can’t help but hate him. And the extended scene of him hunting deer, whilst monologuing on his misogynistic manosphere philosophy of life, is subtly maniacal and anxiety-inducing in the extreme. And in fairness to him, he is also very good at pretending to be a nice guy.

The writing here is faultless. It’s witty, intelligent, provocative. It includes an ingenious use of  asides in what is a rather gritty and modern play, lending a symbolic, allegorical edge to the production, indicated with swift, dramatic lighting changes. It’s a two person cast, with a minimal set, and yet every second is electric. And it doesn’t take advantage of your time, packing all that into a runtime of just 45 minutes. It’s got edge without being cringey, it’s thought-provoking without being gloomy, and it’s just a damn good story. I really hope Bear makes it to the fringe, this is the kind of show the festival was made for.