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Firebird
A searing thriller about the naivety of youth and how easily it can be exploited.
Tia's mouthy attitude and confident swagger mask the vulnerability in a fourteen-year-old girl whose tough start in life draws her to AJ. Older, good-looking and charismatic, he shows her a kindness that she's never known. Kindness that comes with a price…
Phil Davies' debut play premiered at Hampstead Downstairs, London, in 2015, in a production directed by Edward Hall.
Tia's mouthy attitude and confident swagger mask the vulnerability in a fourteen-year-old girl whose tough start in life draws her to AJ. Older, good-looking and charismatic, he shows her a kindness that she's never known. Kindness that comes with a price…
Phil Davies' debut play premiered at Hampstead Downstairs, London, in 2015, in a production directed by Edward Hall.
- GenresPlays
88 pages, Kindle Edition
Published September 24, 2015
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
September 17, 2023
A confronting and compelling play that shares the same themes as All The Little Lights by Jane Upton. Both plays were produced around the same time and it makes me wonder if they tapped into a shocking zeitgeist in England. We meet a shattered teenager, Tia, who is desperate for connection and normalcy that is prevented by the circumstances in which she find herself, symbolised by the wheelchair in which she is trapped.
Phil Davies has a fine ear for authentic dialogue which skillfully creates the voices of Tia, her friend Katie, and AJ, who is the predator behind the shocking events. The scene in which AJ convinces Tia to become a 'model' via the bribery of cigarettes made me squeamish as the evil undercurrent to his motivation was obvious to all except her. Similarly, Tia's growing dependency on AJ for trust and love prevents her from seeing what is healthy and what is not. He says to her, after passing by her former school:
'There were all these girls playing netball out in the playground. I watched them jumping up and down in front of each other, arms waving like little stars. Like their lives depended on it. And I thought, what a shame. All them girls being forced to do that, to care about a pointless ball going in a net - and there's my Tia making something of herself'.
I struggled with belief during the scene where Tia is speaking with the policemen. Possibly this was because I found it hard to conceive that in 2015 she was being interviewed alone and not with a female officer present. But it did raise important questions about perceptions; if a victim doesn't have a voice then what hope do they have of justice and support? And do their circumstances and appearance immediately invite thoughts that they are to blame?
The denouement was not entirely unexpected, but Davey's choice to reuse the symbol of the onion bhaji was brilliant, trumping a home-cooked meal and a sleepover. The sadness of this moment was truly heartbreaking.
Once again, an important play that shines a light on the horrors of which man is capable when young life is only valued as something to be bartered, spoiled and dispatched.
Phil Davies has a fine ear for authentic dialogue which skillfully creates the voices of Tia, her friend Katie, and AJ, who is the predator behind the shocking events. The scene in which AJ convinces Tia to become a 'model' via the bribery of cigarettes made me squeamish as the evil undercurrent to his motivation was obvious to all except her. Similarly, Tia's growing dependency on AJ for trust and love prevents her from seeing what is healthy and what is not. He says to her, after passing by her former school:
'There were all these girls playing netball out in the playground. I watched them jumping up and down in front of each other, arms waving like little stars. Like their lives depended on it. And I thought, what a shame. All them girls being forced to do that, to care about a pointless ball going in a net - and there's my Tia making something of herself'.
I struggled with belief during the scene where Tia is speaking with the policemen. Possibly this was because I found it hard to conceive that in 2015 she was being interviewed alone and not with a female officer present. But it did raise important questions about perceptions; if a victim doesn't have a voice then what hope do they have of justice and support? And do their circumstances and appearance immediately invite thoughts that they are to blame?
The denouement was not entirely unexpected, but Davey's choice to reuse the symbol of the onion bhaji was brilliant, trumping a home-cooked meal and a sleepover. The sadness of this moment was truly heartbreaking.
Once again, an important play that shines a light on the horrors of which man is capable when young life is only valued as something to be bartered, spoiled and dispatched.
Displaying 1 of 1 review