Birds of a feather…boa? A review of Pigeon Theatre’s Bird Watching

As I entered the Theatre Studies corridor, I was met by a trail of vividly pink feathers, leading to the Birdwatching studio space. A sign, warning the audience and exhibitors not to interfere or interact with the birds, was posted on the door before entering into a warmly lit, serene room filled with calming birdsong. But, there were no birds in sight.

Nowhere else would I expect to be confronted by a flirty parrot, a flamingo, or even a misguided pigeon.

Warwick’s newest theatre company, Pigeon Theatre, have devised a highly physical performance which centres on the efforts of trying to adapt to or being met by the male gaze. Self-described as “part nature documentary, part rave”, the piece explores what it means to be on display and the layers of wanting to be attractive and desired.

Set in a three-quarter-round stage, the staging is used strategically throughout the action, using clever movement sequences and formations. The performance combines minimal dialogue with stylised movement to elegantly accentuate the grace and rivalry in the natural world of ornithology. The omniscient narration by Sir David Attenborough lends itself to a deeper environmental reading of females in the animal world.

The cast, including the company’s founders (Alex, Eleanor, and Freya), were evidently unified and collectively moved as a flock! The use of voiceover and an eclectic soundtrack snappily moved the action from one location to another. Again, the use of the staging allowed the actors to, often comically but sometimes confrontationally, break the fourth wall and challenge the actor-to-audience relationship. Nowhere else would I expect to be confronted by a flirty parrot, a flamingo, or even a misguided pigeon.

There was a sense of vulnerability and exposure upon seeing this play out.

A scene which stood out to me was set in a chicken shop. The flock have left the club, and arrive at a chicken shop for some post-rave sustenance. The scene then evolved from asking for food and drink to asking (initially comedically) for “chicken breasts”, with the actor gesturing to hers. The tonal shift moves the comedic requests to all too real ones: requests rooted in insecurity. While the flock were once together, they are now isolated around the space and in front of the audience, insecurities exposed, and challenging the contradictory and hypocritical standards that our patriarchal society deems women must conform to.

The chicken shop scene reminded me of America Ferrera’s monologue in Greta Gerwig’s Barbie (2023) where she states: “You’re supposed to stay pretty for men but not so pretty that you tempt them too much or that you threaten other women because you’re also supposed to be a part of the sisterhood.” The scene in the show plays on the desire to want to look pretty and be desired by men, being ‘pretty and perfect’ enough to be deemed attractive, attainable, and admirable. Underpinning that is a note of the need to feel chosen, not rejected or desperate, but simply chosen and sexually desirable. These women want to be wanted sexually but are also willing to do things or alter themselves to get there, testing the limitations of acceptability and where the line is for the objectification of women.

The performance is beautifully executed, quasi-camp in its use of the feather boas, but ultimately a creatively honest depiction of the female lived experience.

Another scene which examined insecurity, intensity and pressure put on women took place in a fitness class. Using a pumped track and the voiceover of a hyper-positive, motivating fitness host, the scene begins light and bouncy. As the scene progresses, we watch the women get sporadically called out and complimented, which alters the group dynamic and increases the competitiveness. The use of the actors’ real names, when being called out, also breaks the fourth wall within the context of the show, making the scene somewhat more real as a performance. Being called out for lack of commitment or called out to highlight an insecurity to motivate the women quickly descended into screams and rushed, frantic movement, ultimately leaving the women exhausted on the floor.

Exhausted by the workout, or exhausted by the need to uphold and reach impossible beauty standards, different body types, and ever-changing fashion trends? These are the questions the show leaves audiences asking, as every scene stylistically covers a breadth of themes in such a short timeframe. The performance is beautifully executed, quasi-camp in its use of feather boas, but ultimately a creatively honest depiction of the female lived experience.