That’s because, as someone who only belatedly found her sexuality, she’s always really struggled with her identity.
With her attractiveness apparently linked to the length of her hair, she evokes some memorable visual imagery of the consequences of her new, boyish cut.
As the beer-drinking footballer in her lesbian relationship, she’s ostensibly the “husband”.
And though she’s more like her father than her mother, it’s only inasmuch as she’s the indulged, house-trained one rather than the strong-willed partner who knows her own mind.
Keyworth makes some compelling points about culturally prescribed gender roles, homophobia, transphobia and emotional and physical strength. And there’s a salutary lesson in identifying sexual harassment, even when it cloaks itself in an apparently unlikely form.
Moreover, for all her avowed uncertainty and naivety, she’s hilarious with a filthy quip when the opportunity presents, indiscreet when she appreciates that she’s got a tremendous, loving anecdote about her mother’s breast cancer.
At the vanguard of society’s rapidly shifting gender revolution, a small woman who remains hopelessly committed to the idea that she’s a big, unreconstructed man, Keyworth is a thoughtful, sensitive but instinctively self-mocking guide.
Exceeding the promise of last year’s best newcomer nominated debut, who’s a big boy now then?
Until 25 August. Today 5:45pm
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