The Pitchfork Disney heralded the arrival of a unique and disturbing voice in the world of contemporary drama. Manifesting Ridley's vivid and visionary imagination and the dark beauty of his outlook, the play resonates with his trademark East London, storytelling, moments of shocking violence, memories of the past, fantastical monologues, and that strange mix of the barbaric and the beautiful he has made all his own.The Pitchfork Disney was Ridley's first play and is now seen as launching a new generation of playwrights who were unafraid to shock and court controversy. This unsettling, dreamlike piece has surreal undertones and thematically explores fear, dreams and story-telling. First produced in 1991, it has gone on to be recognised as the annunciation of Ridley's dark and seductive world.
i liked this play a little bit more than Knives in Hens, but i still felt unwowed overall. this may be one of those plays that's more effective seeing live than reading in script-form, because reading the introduction, where it tells tales of how the first audiences of this play were shocked and disgusted, leaving the theater mid-play because it was all too disturbing and claustrophobic or even fainting; future performances requiring nurses to be on duty, i just felt like patting it on the head and saying "aren't you adorable??"
this is another play that was a big deal at the time, but now it just reads a little… shrug. it's a gothic and quirky little psychosexual drama with elements of apocalypse and mental illness and sex and drugs and violence and camp deviancy with a fairytale vibe, flashy costumes, sexual assault, animal abuse, bondage gear, very long monologues, and on-stage vomiting, but it just seems like it's trying very hard to shock, and twenty-five years on, we've been desensitized to the kind of shock this play provides, so for me anyway, it didn't make me uncomfortable at all, despite starring twins, which are my own personal nightmare.
it did make me want chocolate, though. a lot.
i'm still on the lookout for a play that'll entice me, and i'm glad i'm venturing out of my comfort zone and exploring the world of drama, but no winner yet.
This play has always haunted me. As a younger reader reading Philip Ridley's "The Pitchfork Disney" I was at once repulsed and terrified of the stranger-in-the-house set-up that Ridley does so well. Grown up a tad bit more, this play still resonates with me, its themes of growing up, adulthood, fear of the world, isolation, and the apocalypse. Ridley cleverly lets the reader feel as if we are witnessing events unfolding at the end of the world with the last cast of characters and their utter reluctance to leave their shells to become something, anything other than the nothingness they revel in by being reclusive and pessimistic. This play illustrates the struggle, whether on purpose or not, of the average agoraphobe wanting more from life but not knowing what, and wanting to leave the house but not knowing why, and constructing a fantasy horror show representation of the world that is false but feels realer than reality and only leaving the house to refill your chemical pleasantries.
In this play the brother and sister are paralyzed, the evidence of tablets and chocolate consumption points to a possible opiate addiction--after all, these are two twenty-eight-year-olds who still talk like children, do not leave their house, and make up stories about the world to soothe the reality of it, even if the stories they tell each other are apocalyptic. Ridley excels when he lets the character's go off on page (s) long monologues regarding their past fears and life. And as in most Ridley plays, the build up to the final set piece and the third act set piece can not be forgotten and are delivered with a surprisingly subtle flourish despite the lurid descriptions and near-sadistic actions.
I'm forever grateful to Philip Ridley that this play exists and would love nothing more than to see a quality production of it held in my city, but, sadly, this play has not reached the audience it deserves.
i’ll never be able to eat another raisin without imagining it’s “bits of skin” and that’s just one of several things this play ruined for me (and i love it)
A real horrorshow of a play where tender feelings are smushed up against cockroach eating, nuclear apocalypse and chocolate addiction. This was Ridley's first play and although he has produced remarkable work since then, none of it is quite as memorably strange and distinctive as 'The Pitchfork Disney'. Since the play takes place within one room and has a cast of four, who never exchange dialogue all at once, it is perfect to read through with a partner or friend. It's a play that breeds strange intimacies. Essentially it concerns itself with two emotionally arrested siblings, Presley and Haley, who have hidden themselves away from the world, living together in a darkened room where they take medication and eat chocolate and tell each other stories about the end of the world. One of these child-adults can't sleep and the other sleeps all the time. Into their world steps with assured bravado, Cosmo Disney, a strapping young Vaudeville performer with a nasty streak. As with Pinter's 'Homecoming' or 'Birthday Party' an outsider profoundly disturbs the dynamics of a familial situation and the private space becomes dominated by power struggles and subliminated violence. It is a dark play, but I think it has been misclassified as 'shock theatre' since its release - indeed it has been said to herald the 90s wave of 'In Yer Face' theatre. Contrariwise, Ridley is a deeply earnest writer, with little pretence or desire to shock, merely to tell good stories and communicate the fear and anxiety he felt as a bullied child and a young homosexual in London's East End. He succeeds perfectly and his phantasmagoria is far more successful than a straight kitchen sink drama could have been. It is beautiful and troubling, all-at-once and mixed up.
The first act of The Pitchfork Disney introduces us to Haley and Presley Stray, a pair of twins who give new meaning to the terms "dysfunctional" and "enabler." They live in a rotting house; they subsist on chocolate and tablets; they share, among other things, a dread for the outside world, stemming, perhaps, from the moment when their parents were taken from (or abandoned) them.
Presley likes to imagine that he and his sister are the only survivors of a nuclear holocaust. One day, as he recites his apocalyptic vision to her, he notices a man outside their house. Intrigued, though also alarmed, he eventually unbolts the locks (five of them) and brings the man in. The stranger promptly vomits on the carpet, in what is surely the most singular first act curtain of all time.
In Act Two we learn that he is Cosmo Disney, a self-promoting showman who makes his living eating nasty things and displaying the presumably hideous visage of his masked sidekick, Pitchfork Cavalier. Disney is rather brazenly a symbol for the worst of contemporary society's excesses (his name is surely not coincidental); he and Presley engage in a weird and wary battle of wills that manifests itself in a high stakes poker of nihilistic awfulness: Cosmo eats a cockroach, Presley fantasizes about being flayed alive.
My sense is that Ridley has written a twisted allegory about the cosmic wasteland that is the post-modern world; but the sheer terror of the nightmare never quite kicks in. Instead, The Pitchfork Disney feels like the campfire ghost story of an excessively lurid and kinky imagination.
Looking at the reviews and ratings, I clearly missed what this play was about. I just didn't get it. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the idea of storytelling and how it kept recurring, but that's probably more due to my interest in that theme as a whole. It was as if there were too many questions left unanswered, a great deal of cyclic ideas (again, not something I was wholly against in moderation) and a general sense of unease and discomfort from the play. Seeing a staging of it didn't help much, either. Maybe this one's just not for me...
(this is a good time to say that I use goodreada reviews as personal notes/ reading diary, don't give it too much thought)
I should probably re read this, I had no idea what the setting was until the end (and I still have my doubts), many scenes had beautiful descriptions, but I have no idea what the "plot" was. I read it and completed it in four days, purely for the vibes
(also because it's considered the first play of the in-yer-face movement)
reads very well and is definitely impactful, but i find it really hard to understand what this is trying to do. i know Ridley has said it takes on a different meaning with every staging but i’m totally missing whatever he was trying to do in the first place. seems like he is weaving a lot of elaborate themes when none of them goes anywhere
Shocking and strange. Late to the party, but reading Philip Ridley (both his screenplays and his plays) has been one of my favorite discoveries of 2025. Inspiring me to work on my dialogue.
While I haven't actually read the book (Despite my best efforts at trying to find it.) I have seen it at the theatre, and it is one of the greatest plays I've ever seen. The tension behind both the story and the characters left me on the edge of my seat throughout the performance. Obviously, I'm still going to try and look for the script so that I can read it properly; (This is GoodReads after all.) but for what it's worth, the performance I saw was spectacular and I would definitely want to see it again.