Content warning: This review discusses sexual assault throughout.
Written by Melisa Altug and coming to Edinburgh all the way from Toronto, Otuz Bir follows a young Turkish woman, Deniz, living in Istanbul, who has to reevaluate her sense of self and relationship to her body after her boyfriend of four years, Emir, sexually assaults her. The play looks inward towards Deniz’s mental and physical state after the assault, personifying her mind (Beyin), vulva, clitoris, and vagina (Vajina). The term Otuz Bir, while directly translating to 31, is a Turkish slang word meaning to masturbate, centering sexual exploration as a means of healing. Through the course of the play, Deniz comes to connect with and (quite literally) communicate with her sexuality.
Otuz Bir is set in the context of the Istanbul Convention being repealed, a piece of legislation that had set out to protect women from sexual and domestic violence, prosecuting attackers more harshly and setting up crime prevention programmes. Hearing that this convention is being repealed sets in motion the play’s main conflict: that despite society’s (and Emir’s) dismissal of female oppression in Turkey, it is an undeniable, lived, and dangerous experience for many women.
The first act skillfully combines moments of hilarity whilst also setting up Emir as the show’s antagonist; he makes worryingly dismissive comments around Deniz’s repressed fear and the couple’s asymmetrical love life. Jordan D’Amico as Emir strikes a careful balance between playing the “perfect” boyfriend and a demanding and coercive antagonist that insists that Deniz will always be safe with him as he is “not that kind of guy.” The sexual assault scene itself is utterly harrowing and hauntingly nightmarish, cultivating all of Deniz’s panic into the abstract, chaotic staging.
What becomes clear by the end, however, is that the camaraderie and sistership between Deniz and her personified body parts is the heart of the play. Destinee Van Dusen’s performance as Deniz feels well-rounded and thoughtful, with her eventual acceptance of her own sexuality and desire being integral to her emotional healing. The play does not rush Deniz’s healing, nor does it coddle its audience, allowing us to sit in fragility and vulnerability with her after the assault.
Otuz Bir is running until 29 August at Main Space at Venue 13.
Buy tickets here.
Image by Amia McHale, provided to The Student as press material.
