Molka VAULT Festival Review

“Molka” is Korean for “sneaky or hidden camera”. Often women are the target of
such spy cam crimes – the capture of voyeuristic images and videos objectifies them
without their consent. Created by Taeyun Kim and Maja Laskowska in collaboration
with movement director Miia Mäkilä, this debut production is a mixture of
experimental and physical theatre. Using a collection of personal stories and archival
material, the production addresses how this makes women feel as well as the
imbalance in the treatment of female perpetrators compared to their male
counterparts. Females are more likely to be punished harshly than men in Korea and
Taeyun herself attended the 2018 Seoul protests against this biased treatment of
women.

The set is minimalist and the audience seating surrounds the performance space.
We become the voyeurs of the performers’ experience and reaction to being filmed
without consent as well as confronting the reactions of our fellow audience members.
Statements are displayed to our faces regarding the right to be able to use the toilet
in private (spy cams have been found in toilets and changing rooms) and stories
shared. One woman will not use a public toilet without someone else there; another
will use a mask so their face cannot be identified. Even public spaces are not safe –
women have been subjected to “up skirting” where covert pictures are taken from
below. Consequentially, some will keep their back to the escalator so they can see
who might be watching them.

Strong performances from both Taeyun Kim and Nikita De Martin whose energy
throughout the show complement each other well. At the start, Taeyun and Nikita
wear baggy clothing as if to hide what a voyeur would covet before they strip as they
speak of the indignities caused by spy cams. A harmless game of tag later seems
representative of the parts voyeurs see and share. In some cases, even faces are
shared, depriving women of any privacy or dignity to satisfy the urges of the unseen.
Here, the reasons given by perpetrators are as expected, weak excuses for their
invasive actions. “He’s going through a bad patch with his marriage, he’s sorry.” “I
didn’t know that women don’t want to be filmed.” Worryingly, it isn’t just strangers
who may be watching. Even those close to you can betray you. One hurtful excuse
that stuck in my mind was “My friends wanted to see.”

I liked the flipping of the black tiles on the floor to reveal white tiling reminiscent of
those toilets and bathrooms invaded by cameras. I kept expecting to see a camera
pop up, though on reflection, the absence of these I felt gave the performers a safer
space to share in. The recording of private moments violates us but this production
shows that should it happen to you, you are not alone. And when we all rise in
protest and retaliation, we will be heard.
Sold out on the night I went, grab a ticket while you can.

Reviewed by Angela Calder

The Vaults, Leake Street, London, SE1 7NN Performances at 9.30pm on 7th, 8th, 9th February 2023 in The Pit