Three sisters sit with their mother in front of the portrait of their recently deceased father and husband. With a synchronized, theatrical sob, they end their mourning to focus on the dominant problem of their lives: finding a man. The three single women are the title characters of the comedy The unplucked sisters of Almere County van Bos Theater Productions, a text by Ilse Warringa, loosely based on the classic novels by Jane Austen (Sense & Sensibility and Pride & Prejudice).
After the sob, the discussion starts about what kind of man the women are looking for. The demure Elinor (Plien van Bennekom) wants a man she can “appreciate”, to the horror of the fiercely romantic Marian (Ilse Warringa), who is looking for a like-minded soul, while the rebellious Maggie (Wart Kamps) yaps that only a fuckboy and dangerous men comply. The sullen, bossy mother (Rop Verheijen) criticizes her daughters, alternating with encouragement.
The jokes are solid and delivered with great aplomb. For example, mother shouts that she is ashamed of her offspring: “None of you have ever had one dickpic received!” Maggie counters that “horny” and “toxic” are the right qualifications for a man. The text emphatically taps into modern sensitivities surrounding transgressive behavior, without leaving room for ambiguity. Partly thanks to Kamps’ bold acting, with thick gestures and pelvic jerks, the tone is quite farcical.
Chastity judge
The criticism of modern morals is further expanded by the recurring interventions of a “chastity judge” (also Rop Verheijen). After the opening scene, a number of men present themselves to the sisters, and the romantic entanglements begin: a stream of attraction, repulsion, assessment and revision of opinions. This chastity judge constantly jumps in to interrupt scenes and separate the actors, jauntily blowing a whistle.
By breaking in in this way, author Warringa ingeniously and daringly opens a second layer of reality in the performance. Suddenly the worlds of the sisters and that of the theater and its actors intermingle. But the satirical effect of the chastity judge is limited. The performance of this variation on the intimacy coordinator is simply posturing and ridiculous. He lists his rules, the most important of which is asking for “consent.” The actors then ask each other unnecessarily for consent for a scene or randomly squeeze each other’s breasts or butts to show how it should actually be done. “Love is supposed to be gross,” crows Maggie. Jane Austen’s longing for love versus the subordinated position of women involves social criticism, but it is ignored The unplucked sisters sacrificed to this half-baked jollity.
Partly because of these interventions, the countless romantic complications are rather drawn out and the initially high pace of the performance slows down considerably. In the dialogues, contemporary buzzwords are cleverly linked with solemn language and carried sentences. But partly because of their funny language, the characters remain typical. Their lack of ground is disastrous for the humor. What remains is the disruptive play of Rop Verheijen as a commanding mother with loose hands. His timing and gruff tone stand out.
Only at the end does a rebellion by the actors against Warringa as the author of the text lead to a few nice scenes. But as a whole it is The unplucked sisters a lackluster comedy that leaves you relatively unmoved.