A daring fusion of theatre and stand-up that continues a Shakespeare character’s story where a comedian’s Catholic guilt left off
One of the most annoying things about being an artist is that you have to get pretty good at self-acceptance. Some people mysteriously refer to it as “surrendering to the craft.” But the bottom line – and something the Edinburgh Fringe knows all too well – is that the best art out there is the stuff that doesn’t try to hide its ugliest parts when a stranger buys a ticket, takes a seat, and starts watching. To be clear, it is not the same thing as trauma porn or anything that produces a feeling of “cringe.” Rather, it is self-aware theatre, theatre that understands and values self-awareness as something that is uniquely human and that can (ironically) only deepen when it is witnessed by other humans.
This is hard and horrifying work. And to get up onstage at the same time every day for a whole month – even if no one comes, even if you feel like a piece of garbage, even if you’re six months pregnant – you have to really need to do theatre. Up-and-coming American theatre-comic Moira McAuliffe is one of those people.
Her show To Whom Should I Complain weaves McAuliffe’s own experiences growing up in a conservative Catholic community into the imagined afterlife of the nun-turned-#MeToo-hero Isabella from Shakesepare’s Measure for Measure. From the first moments, it is clear that McAuliffe actively uses the show to work through her harmful upbringing and to free herself from a toxic narrative – one that her Shakespearean foil (four hundred years earlier) also struggles to escape.
McAuliffe boldly harnesses the form of stand-up to present this two-pronged cocktail of a story, literally stepping into and out of each of the characters throughout. This effective comedic convention – in particular, the intentioned mic work that corresponds with each of the characters – makes one wonder if any other choice of genre would have done this story justice. When she holds the mic, she is herself – relaxed, reflective, more connected to her centre. But when she slots the mic back into the stand, her Isabella is suddenly unsure of where to put her shaky hands. Her centre of gravity careens nervously toward her head and neck, throwing her whole body off-balance. It is a simple device that unlocks the piece, gifts the actor clear physical choices, and makes the risky genre choice work brilliantly.
By the time she finally puts the mic down, it is beautifully obvious that McAuliffe (actually six months pregnant!) needed to come to the Fringe to tell this story. And, while she doesn’t yet know how either one – hers or Isabella’s – will end, I have a good feeling that, even after the Fringe, the run of this one-woman show won’t be ending any time soon.
To Whom Should I Complain is playing at the Edinburgh Fringe until 11 August. Learn more about the show here.