Porn.Cake

Overview

“Living together alone is hell between consenting adults" according to Michel Houellebecq. Porn.Cake, (written by Vanessa Bates and directed by Shannon Murphy) first played to Melbourne audiences at the Malthouse and is on now at Griffin Theatre 'til the 14^th of July. If you’re expecting cakes in the shape of naughty body parts: don’t. The producers have opted for standard cake, lovely cake in fact, made by the bakers at the Epicurean Kitchen.

Speaking of Epicurus, it’s strange that he is now associated with gluttony and indulgence, when he was really just a hippy who believed that the good life meant spending quality time with friends and family over a modest bowl of soup. Porn.Cake is a world apart from the Epicurean ideal. We meet two mirror-image couples living the middle class domestic dream, who are sick of their respective partners and are unable to communicate let alone copulate. The women are obsessed by their diminishing attractiveness and the men are forever texting about a "business matter". Cake acts a cover for their unfulfilled sexual desires and lack of connection.

Porn.Cake’s premise is that "cake is the new porn". Just as porn stimulates a perpetual desire without fulfillment, cake promises sweet satisfaction without nourishment. Steve Toulmin’s sound design using snippets of Jamie and Nigella talking seductively about food in between scenes is pornographic in so far as it is full of promise, with the moment of satisfaction always out of reach. The performers eat cake mechanically, without the appreciation that Epicurus would have us note. In this way porn and food act as "points of entry" into the themes of isolation and existential dissatisfaction. (For more on this watch  Steve McQueen’s Shame.)

The piece is comprised of four monologues joined by scenes that repeat and morph as the evening progresses. The clunky opening monologue, performed by an otherwise entertaining Olivia Pigeot, falls short of the rest of the play. And this odd start means the play is a bit of a slow burn, but once it gets moving it’s thoroughly enjoyable. In particular, Georgina Symes’s monologue as the naturopath with a bee in her bonnet is excellent and hilarious.

Be advised - you should go on an empty stomach, unless you have a truly voracious appetite for cake or porn or both.

Image by Griffin Theatre.