The clue is in the fingers. Rubbery, bulbous things, they look as if they would leave a trail of slime if they touched you. And they probably want to touch you. They belong to Martin, aka Mr Creep, the alter ego of Theodora van der Beek, all lank hair, faux leather jacket and grubby 70s aesthetic.
To call Martin a character would be stretching a point: he does not actually do very much in this entertaining show, half lecture, half film screening. He is more object than protagonist. He is a symbol of every office pest, every man who gets uncomfortably close on public transport, every bloke with a warped sense of his sexual attractiveness to younger women. He eats a lot of ham.
The show is a product of lockdown when the performer and her six-strong household decided to throw an office party at home, seeing as none of them had an office of their own. They took on roles from intern to boss and Van der Beek came as the office creep. Getting to know the enemy, she found Martin, with his perfumed breath and poor spatial awareness, strangely compelling. What if she could look at the world through his eyes?
Now, reading from cue cards, she takes us through a series of movies, AI-generated fantasies and TV clips to talk about the objectifying lens of the male gaze and men’s almost imperceptible encroachments on female space (elsewhere in Edinburgh, Red Like Fruit has a similar theme).
Some sections are more fully realised than others in a show Van der Beek admits is developing all the time, but she has inventiveness and eccentric charm to carry her through, not to mention a particularly disgusting way with processed meat. The show’s tone is quirky, messy and wry, even while its message is on point.
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At Banshee Labyrinth, Edinburgh, until 24 August
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