Rosy Carrick’s show Musclebound explores the importance of starting, highlighting and continuing conversations about sex. She clearly outlines how female pleasure is often sidelined, with sex becoming a performance to conform to the male centric expectations of what it should be. Musclebound offers a unique honesty not often seen in conversations about sex when they are presented in the media. Staged more like a comedy gig than a play, the minimal staging reflects what the show is – a sincere discussion of stigmas around sex, delivered through truthful anecdotes fundamental to Rosy’s reinvention of herself.

Central to the show is the relationship between Rosy and her daughter Olive. The audience is invited to laugh and sympathise alongside them, as recounts of various moments of discovery demonstrate the importance of open and honest conversations about sex. An interesting parallel is created, as Carrick frames her and Olive’s realisations about sex to be mirror images of each other. Whilst her daughter is experiencing sexual intimacy for the first time, Rosy portrays herself as rediscovering what makes sex pleasurable. The shared experience of growing and learning together communicates the closeness between mother and daughter, something strengthened by the knowledge that all and any questions will be answered truthfully. What Carrick has created is a show that reassures young women that what they think and feel is not in isolation, instead it is a common experience merely shaped or expressed in different ways.

Musclebound also emphasises the discrepancies between fantasy and reality when it comes to sex. A repeated motif is introduced, with a projector being used to showcase a clip from Masters of the Universe, an old 80s film, where a character called the sorceress is drained of her power. Carrick explains this image, describing how despite advocating for yourself, it is possible to still be left feeling powerless and unsatisfied after sex. This poignant message is characteristic of how the show aims to educate, as well as entertain, an audience, and even reassures those who can see their own thoughts and emotions reflected onstage. The use of other recognisable 70s and 80s images, such as Arnold Schwarzenegger’s documentary Pumping Iron, generates an air of nostalgia for the slightly older audience demographic, that contributes to the hilarity that ensues. Whilst some of these references may be lost on younger audience members, the relevance of what is being said is clear to everyone. Furthermore, the use of a mannequin to represent various male partners or figures key to the narrative, is an additional element of comedy that left everyone laughing.

What Carrick emphasises throughout the show is neatly summarised in a memorable quote uttered towards its conclusion – ‘You can’t expect a language to grow if you never take it outside.’ Here, Carrick reiterates the importance of having candid conversations about sex with friends and family, but also highlights the significance of bringing discussions to a wider audience, one outside of closed doors and private spaces. Musclebound exemplifies this, Carrick has started the conversation, yet it is still contained within the walls of a theatre. As such, the bravery required to put such a personal experience on the stage should be championed, and hopefully inspires audiences to start their own conversations, outside the world of theatre.

Empowering. Playful. Overdue. These are the three words that Rosy Carrick selected to describe her one-woman show Musclebound, a humorous and earnest exploration of female sexual desire and pleasure, and the intense societally inflicted shame that supresses it.

Opening startlingly with a video of Arnold Schwarzenegger likening body building to cumming while a faceless dummy sat politely in a chair onstage, the show instantly drew in the audience with its deliberate uncensored honesty and tongue-in-cheek sexual humour. Unsurprisingly, said audience was largely female dominated, though all were quick to match Rosy’s onstage energy and offer the reaction and interaction that she wanted, regardless of gender. Rosy’s direct communication with the audience, and her decision to only use a microphone for emphasis of certain moments, created a very safe and personal atmosphere in the theatre; an intentional intimacy that allowed the audience to feel shameless and unselfconscious at their enjoyment of the performance and its potential applicability to their own lives. Of course, the universality of the show was necessarily limited by its roots in Rosy’s own life, and the resulting focus only on heterosexual relations, yet her regular acknowledgements of the singularity of her stories ensured that no member of the audience felt excluded, no matter how different their own sexual experiences may be.

The refreshing flippancy with which Rosy spoke about such taboo topics as masturbation and erotic fantasies was utterly distinctive from anything I have ever seen before in a theatre, and I assume the same to be true of many of my fellow audience members. There was an air of comfort in the openness of Rosy’s performance, giving the spectators the anonymous freedom to hear about and consider these topics without pressure or judgement. Confident as Rosy seemed, she continually humanised herself and related to the audience with free admittances of humiliating attempts at flirtation and embarrassing lengths she’d taken to impress a crush that had the crowd nodding their heads and laughing with empathetic delight.

At the heart of the production was the relationship between Rosy and her daughter, who was first finding her own path into the world of sex as Rosy was renavigating hers. She analysed the familiar deceptions and meaningless platitudes relied on in discussions of sex and pleasure, critiquing the ways that they discourage honest conversations and perpetuate the isolation that people tend to feel around their own experiences of sex and eroticism. The show encouraged reconsideration of the idea that sexual endeavours must conform to the unrealistically romanticised ideal or be kept hidden as a shameful secret.

Even in such serious contemplations, Rosy kept the tone of the show light and amusing, which served to add emphasis to the climactic moment, when comedy was momentarily suspended and the pain and loneliness resulting from sexual shame was very authentically explored. This final revelation became an emotive stab of sincerity, solidifying the bond of almost universal embarrassment and dissatisfaction that has characterised the sex lives of an inordinate number of women. Still, this morphed into a final hopeful and empowering plea for the audience to have open discussions to destigmatise erotic fantasies and work to reacquaint sex with genuine female pleasure.

Authentic would be the first word that comes to mind after watching Musclebound. There was something so interesting about watching a woman bare all for an audience, talking about the facets of her life, the gritty details, the topics that are normally layered with a sense of shame and disgust. She takes this subject and tackles it with a sense of pride and empowerment, taking the taboo and pushing the motion of community and being open with how we feel about sex, identity and intimate relationships.

Rosy Carrick is a talented performer, who exceeded expectations with her ability to connect with an audience in such a wide variety of ways. She captivated the audience with her unique stage presence, using various methods to progress her story. One of the most fascinating ways being the use of a life size dummy for a stage prop. Not only did this bring a sprinkle of comedy as she pulled the dummy around the stage to bring an additional layer to her story but also leaned into the implicit understanding that this faceless figure of a man can be an insert for your own life and experiences. This is finally a production about a woman and her experiences, exploring her sexual pleasure and how she feels in a relationship and it’s refreshing to see the woman being the centre of the story and the male figures being a tool to emphasise her inner feelings.

Motifs would be another aspect of the production that stood out the most. The idea of feeling powerless when being in a relationship is one that hits home for a lot of people. The constant circling back to having your power being stripped away from you once you are in a sexual situation is something that is relatable. This motif is perfectly executed in a way that allows you to deeply understand it from Rosy’s point of view and then upon reflection be able to view it from the perspective of your own life and experiences. The wide range of audience members is a testament to how this show can be useful for the masses. It’s relatable for older woman and inspirational for younger, for the male audience it’s a powerful way to broaden your own perspectives and relate in a unique fashion.

Musclebound is not only a show but an eye opener, a lesson to take away and apply to your life, a way to evaluate your own situation and use it as a tool to empower and liberate your own sexual identity.

Empowering, Playful and Overdue: Three Favourite Moments from Rosy Carrick’s Musclebound

On February 6th, Dr Rosy Carrick’s one-woman comedy act Musclebound graced Lakeside Arts. The show explored her passion for muscle hunks: think Arnold Schwarzenegger, Dolph Lundgren, Jean-Claude Van Damme… You get the picture. Carrick paired these fantasies with wider societal issues, rooted in her relationship with a daughter nearing her first sexual encounter. The seemingly unconnected worlds of bodybuilding and sexual pressures fuse in this entertaining yet empowering show – during which three moments stood out to me.

Number One: Ever seen Dolph Lundgren being handcuffed at a meet-and-greet? I have. A slick and smooth array of sound effects, lighting cues and photo slideshows supported Carrick’s show. Often, this was used creatively and comically, with photo evidence peppering an anecdote about meeting bodybuilders in real life. Classic 80’s tunes like Survivor’s The Eye of The Tiger certainly got the audience in the mood.

However, sometimes the plethora of props was distracting, detracting from the power of Carrick’s comedy. She was so engaging that she didn’t need to rely on them, particularly the fake dummy ‘boyfriend’. Although, I concede that the snap of Dolph being handcuffed was hilarious.

Number Two: From the show’s synopsis, I half expected it to end with Carrick wheeling out a hunky boyfriend who she’d found over the course of her ‘research’. But, instead of finding a man, she found… herself.

One of the most powerful moments was when Carrick spoke of the difficulties she’d faced finding an authentic self during sex. Her voice broke. That night was Musclebound’s final performance. Despite telling this story so many times before, her emotional response highlights the necessity and rawness of having honest conversations about sexuality.

There were moments in the show that I struggled to relate to. Although my parents tried, I hadn’t seen many films in the bodybuilder/actor genre; references to cult 80s culture resounded better with older audience members. However, frank, open discussions of sex are needed and universal, no matter your age or gender.

Number Three: My final favourite moment wasn’t technically part of the performance. Before the show, I had the opportunity to meet with Carrick. She discussed shamelessness, the power of speaking out about sexual pleasure, and growing up alongside her daughter

I had wondered if audiences were coming to learn or to laugh. But it was rewarding to hear of women (and some men) contacting Carrick after the show, praising her performance and its influence on their sex lives. A post-show workshop would keep these conversations flowing.

Talking to Carrick was electric and inspiring. Without the props and lighting cues, her words felt more authentic. Cutting to the heart of Musclebound, she aptly summed the performance up in three words: empowering, playful and overdue. As Schwarzenegger would know – like muscles, spaces to have open conversations about sex will only grow if we use them.