ASSisted Seduction at the Camden Fringe Review

There’s a particular thrill to walking into a pub theatre during the Camden Fringe, the rare sense you might just stumble into something outstanding and with ASSisted Seduction, you don’t stumble you are dragged in and taken on a journey that you think about long after the bows. At the centre of the story are Sandy (Deirdra Morris), a fading ex-Playboy Bunny waitress, turned recluse with a terminal diagnosis and Amber (Alexa Neasham) her broke, erratic and emotionally flailing niece. What begins as a request for financial help spirals quickly into a negotiation of far higher and darker stakes, if Amber helps Sandy die, the inheritance is hers. 

Deirdra Morris’s Sandy is a masterclass in brittle bravado. Drenched in faded glamour and self loathing, she delivers razor edged lines that shift from venomous to vulnerable in seconds. There’s a magnificent weariness in her presence like a dying queen presiding over her palace, like a queen she won't go down without a fight. Alexa Neasham’s Amber is the perfect counter balance, fidgety, hungry, layered with awkward self deprecation and unexpected emotional insight. She tap's in to the fiery and hot headed side effortlessly as the action simmers and the audience wonders what will happen next. There’s a particular sharpness to how she plays the comedy, always tinged with guilt or shame adding layers to the character and keeping her grounded. Together the chemistry is electric, you can tell the rehearsal period was thorough, both actors listen to each other, react accordingly and it's a real joy to watch.

Ahsan Kazmi and Naomi Moylan-Torke's writing is tight, laced with cheeky, explosive one liners, wit and text that ignites dynamite. Each line feels like a transaction, one trying to buy love, the other trying to sell survival. What makes ASSisted Seduction so effective isn’t just its premise, though that’s certainly striking. It’s the way the show refuses to let the audience relax. One minute you’re laughing, the next, you're watching someone question their worth as a human being. The show toys with big themes the main being assisted dying. It trusts its audience to sit in the discomfort. Ninon Jerome's direction is minimal but specific and rightly so. In a space as intimate as the Hen & Chickens, excess would have dulled the tension. The staging is sparse: a table, two chairs and just enough props to dress the set and add character, which allows the audience to sit back and watch the action play out without too many distractions.

This is a two hander with claws, it is funny, unsettling, controversial and not to be missed. I'm excited to see if it gets developed and where it goes next.

4 *