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Review of One of the Boys at Playground Theatre: A Poignant Piece on the Limitations of Performative Feminism

Writer's picture: Theatre BeeTheatre Bee

Rated 🍯🍯🍯🍯




One of the Boys by Tim Edge, currently running at The Playground Theatre, is a sharp and compact exploration of the pressures women face in a male-dominated corporate world. The play follows Eve, a formidable woman on the cusp of becoming the first female CEO in her company, as she navigates the turbulent dynamics of power, ambition, and gender. Through its brisk 85-minute runtime, the play examines how corporate environments shape individuals, exposing the personal compromises that come with professional ambition.


The Bee’s Buzz: A Different Take


The bee has been buzzing through other reviews and finds that its own experience could not be more dramatically different. For completeness, the bee will first summarize the disappointment of other reviewers before sharing its own.


Some critics argue that the play sets itself up as a biting commentary on corporate sexism but ultimately overpromises and underdelivers. Rather than subverting toxic masculinity, they claim, it affirms that to succeed, women must embody the same brutal behaviors as the “boys.” The female characters, particularly Eve and Heidi, are deemed underwritten, and the plot is seen as too familiar—betrayal, competition, and office politics that feel overdone. Finally, some felt that the stakes weren’t high enough, arguing that the struggles depicted might only resonate with those within the privileged corporate bubble.


The bee could not disagree more. At its core, One of the Boys isn’t about waving the flag of feminism in neat, heroic arcs. Instead, it’s about survival in a patriarchal system that suffocates idealism and rewards conformity. The play offers a nuanced exploration of institutionalized sexism, feminism in the corporate world, and how power and gender dynamics are much more complex than some critics give credit for.


Not All Sexism is Created Equal


There’s a tendency to lump all forms of gendered oppression under the blanket term “sexism.” While One of the Boys certainly exposes corporate sexism, it does so in a way that demands we unpack the subtleties within that term. The play doesn’t feature overt misogyny where men openly belittle women. Instead, it captures institutionalized sexism—the kind that quietly operates through the very rules and structures of corporate life.


Eve isn’t dismissed or mocked because she’s a woman. She’s respected, even admired, and it’s only when her male peers feel threatened that they band together to undermine her. Their betrayal reflects not just their lack of respect for Eve but also their fear of her. It’s more about their own cowardice in the face of danger than it is a commentary on gender alone. Yes, Eve has to play by the rules of the boys’ club to fit in, but this is structural sexism at its most insidious—where the system itself pressures women to conform, not the individual men per se.


This raises a critical question: How much of Eve’s cold, calculating persona is her true self, and how much of it is corporate conditioning? The play masterfully teases apart the personal from the institutional, forcing us to reflect on how systems of power shape individuals. Eve isn’t inherently distant; she’s been moulded by an environment that demands she shed her empathy and warmth in order to survive.


Feminism, But Make It Real


The term “feminist play” has been tossed around in reviews of One of the Boys, but what does that mean? The bee finds this prescriptive tone discomfiting. Whether a play is feminist enough seems to hinge on arbitrary expectations of what feminism should look like. Does every feminist narrative need to feature women smashing through barriers with heroic ease, defying all odds while keeping their integrity perfectly intact?


Perhaps a more honest depiction is one that shows women struggling, compromising, and, yes, sometimes failing to uphold their values in the face of systemic pressures. One of the Boys seems more interested in examining the limits of feminist ideals in a corporate setting than offering a straightforward empowerment narrative (which, let’s be honest, the bee finds far more compelling).


Eve’s journey highlights the harsh reality of corporate life: to succeed, you often have to adopt the very behaviors you might initially resist. It reminds the bee of Simone de Beauvoir’s observations about how women must make compromises in systems designed by men. Isn’t the play demonstrating just that? The system grinds you down and spits you out, and that, perhaps, is the most resonant feminist commentary of all.


And why is Eve’s professional breakdown framed as a failure? Why shouldn’t professional failure be as devastating as personal failure for a woman navigating these spaces? Why should we expect a moral epiphany from Eve when the system is designed to strip her of agency in the first place? And why aren't the men held just as culpable and responsible in subverting the status quo, if not more so than the women?


The Limitations of Performative Feminism


Moreover, the fact that Heidi’s idealistic feminist trope felt predictable to some is, in itself, a powerful critique. Heidi represents performative feminism—the belief that individual women can change deeply ingrained systems without addressing larger institutional forces. Her youthful idealism crashes hard against the realities of corporate life, just as Eve’s once did. One of the Boys critiques the notion that change can happen purely through bold, disruptive individuals. It’s a far more grounded portrayal of the feminist struggle, showing how even disruptors are subject to the system’s constraints.


Power as a Collective Illusion: Everyone’s a Cog


At the heart of One of the Boys lies a profound interrogation of power dynamics—how power is wielded, transferred, and often subtly manipulated in corporate environments. The play doesn’t simply pit men against women in a predictable gender power struggle; instead, it unpacks how power operates on multiple levels, often in ways that transcend gender. The bee found this exploration of power to be one of the more compelling aspects of the play, offering a window into the often invisible forces that shape corporate culture.


Power in One of the Boys isn’t merely about who has the most authority or who controls the office hierarchy. It’s about the rules of the game—rules that everyone, both men and women, must follow to some extent. While Eve holds a powerful title and seems poised to ascend to the top of the corporate ladder, the play reveals that even she is trapped by these rules. Her authority is conditional on her ability to fit into the “boys’ club.” She doesn’t wield power freely—she borrows it, conforms to it, and inevitably suffers when the men decide she no longer belongs.


But where the play truly hits the mark is the following: The men are equally trapped, albeit in a different way. The bee sees them as archetypes of male entitlement, operating within a structure that rewards their mediocrity as long as they maintain the status quo. The men aren’t free agents either—they’re just more comfortable playing the game because it’s been built for them. Their deliberately written flatness as characters only shows how little growth or challenge they’ve had to face. If anything, this lack of depth makes them symbolic of patriarchal inertia. They are less characters and more reflections of a system that runs smoothly on its well-oiled gears.


The Fragility of Power


At its core, One of the Boys presents power as an illusion—something that appears accessible but is always out of reach for those who don’t fit neatly into the system. The men are powerful not because they’re inherently smarter or stronger but because they play by the rules that have been set for them, rules they had no hand in creating but which happen to benefit them nonetheless. Eve’s downfall, then, isn’t just about her gender—it’s about how power within these systems is never truly up for grabs. The play offers a sobering look at how corporate structures function as self-sustaining machines, designed to perpetuate their own values while subtly crushing any real threat to their dominance. Eve’s downfall isn’t a result of personal failure but an indictment of a system that can’t tolerate difference, even in its most competent members.


In One of the Boys, power isn’t something you wield freely—it’s something you negotiate, borrow, and lose. For women like Eve, the power they hold is contingent, always at risk of being taken away the moment they disrupt the system’s balance. For the men, power is a given, something they wield without even thinking about it. But in the end, the play exposes power for what it really is: a fragile construct that depends more on maintaining appearances than on true strength or merit.


Pragmatism vs. Idealism: The Choices Women Make in One of the Boys


If power is the central battleground in One of the Boys, then pragmatism vs. idealism forms the moral dilemma that underscores Eve’s journey. This theme cuts to the core of the play’s feminist discourse, revealing the tensions women face when navigating spaces designed by and for men. Rather than depicting feminism in simple terms—where idealistic women topple the patriarchy with sheer determination—the play presents a far more nuanced reality: the difficult choices women must make to survive in a world that doesn’t allow them the luxury of idealism.


The bee loved it.


Four stars!


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