How does one even begin to review a show like Cvnt? Sophie Power doesn’t just perform, she saunters onto the stage in a whirlwind of clowning, comedy, and unapologetic exploration of the word that makes many people squirm. This is an hour of raw, unfiltered energy, where cvnt is not just a word but a playground, a statement, and a challenge. Power revels in its many meanings, contradictions, and taboos, dragging the audience along for a ride that is as ridiculous as it is revealing.
You can't talk about Cvnt without mentioning the spectacular costume. Power emerges from a small black booth, draped in a dazzling explosion of pink and red, transforming herself into a human-sized vulva. Its cavernous depths invite exploration, complete with moans, groans, and the eager hands of audience members keen to get up close and personal.
Power’s clowning and comedy skills are razor-sharp as she leads us through a series of gloriously absurd acts. Her mastery of physicality, facial expressions, and voice work makes her personification of a cvnt both hilarious and unsettling in the best way. Audience participation is high, featuring a brilliantly twisted take on Pin the Tail on the Donkey (I’m sure you can guess where this is going) and a contest that rewards more than just the best technique for licking chocolate.Power has a commanding stage presence and a firm grip on the show’s energy. However, one moment left me uneasy, making it difficult to fully give myself over to the rest of the performance. I have no issue with reclaiming and empowering the use of the word cvnt, but when Power encourages the audience to yell “fuck off, cvnt” at people who’ve annoyed them, it feels more aggressive than cathartic, and at odds with the show’s intent. This was particularly uncomfortable when a (male) audience member declared that his mother-in-law pisses him off whenever she speaks, and another (male) audience member voiced frustration over his mother persistently asking when he’s going to get a “real” job. In both cases, Power had them repeatedly shout “fuck off, cvnt,” each time growing louder and more hostile. While she can’t predict how people will respond, some guardrails could help prevent misogynistic undertones from creeping in.
There’s plenty to love in Cvnt, and I can only hope the audience response on the night I attended was an outlier. Power has clearly poured a tremendous amount into this show, and while it presents as gleeful, absurd fun, there’s a deeper message about reclaiming the cvnt, both the word and what it represents. Maybe the discomfort is intentional - a way to expose hypocrisy - but for now, I think I’ll keep my cvnts to myself.
SHOW DETAILS
Venue: The Malthouse, 113 Sturt St, Southbank
Season: until 6 April | Tues - Sat 8.30pm, Sun 7.30pm
Duration: 60 minutes
Tickets: $30 Full | $25 Conc | $24 Tightarse Tuesday
Bookings: Melbourne International Comedy Festival
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