If you’re active on TikTok, you’ll have seen people raving about the 2020 book ‘Boy Parts’ by Eliza Clark. The art world-inspired comic thriller has sold more than 30,000 copies in the UK alone. Now, the dark page-turner about kinky fetish photographer Irina has hit the stage. Adapted by Gillian Greer as a one-woman show starring Aimee Kelly, it is guaranteed to attract the BookTok audience. But if you come hoping for fresh insight into the story, you might leave somewhat unfulfilled.
The shadowy world of Clark’s buzzy suspense novel is built in Sara Joyce’s corrosive production. On a black screen, cinema titles start to roll, accompanied by stylised photographs of bloodshot eyes: what we’re about to see is a true story, the words under the footage promise, and everything is cast, directed and created by Irina Sturges. We’re here to watch her feature film, which has been moulded by an artfully placed lens.
Irina has been obsessed with cameras for as long as she can remember. But, post art school she’s moved out of London and into a flat in Newcastle with her school friend, Flo, who she describes as the ‘social equivalent of herpes’. Her days are spent working in a dead-end bar job, but soon an email lands in her inbox inviting her to produce a photography exhibition at the trendy and respected London venue, Hackney Space.
Her pictures are exploitative, fleshy and gruesome. But Clark’s story turns the artist stereotype and male gaze on its head. Instead of focusing on the female form, Irina has a morbid fascination with the male – and often under-aged – body. She picks up ‘beautiful’ young men she sees working in supermarkets or in bars because she knows they’ll be ‘pliable’. She has visions of sharp pieces of glass plunging into her models’ bare skin. Even when she finds herself in the hands of dangerous, aggressive men she only wishes she had a camera to capture the moment. Creative control is her strength.
As Irina, Kelly is venomous and acid-sharp: outrageous thoughts hurl out of her as fast as gunshots. The audience is like putty in her hands waiting for her next, devious step. Yet, we’re never quite sure how much to trust her. The narration is a messy blur of reality and fantasy. Violence is described in rabid, specific detail but evaporates seconds later into her daydreams. Stark white lights designed by Christopher Nairne curl into blaring red. Is Irina really a savage murderer or a plagued creative? It is never clear – but her changing identity tests our patience.
For fans of Clark’s novel this is all to be expected. While the best adaptations add a new flavour, feel and fire to their source material, Greer’s feels more like a tribute: often the script feels like it has been plucked straight out of her book. The effect is an eerie and atmospheric evening – but one that lacks surprise.