a bold, intimate, and emotionally complex tribute in which Kollars transforms personal grief from the pandemic into a powerful meditation on love, anger, and loss
Being thrown back into the world of the pandemic strikes a chord with audiences; it divides and unites, allowing singular audience members to be struck with uncomfortable memories, creating distance in the room, and also allowing sympathy to arise from the deepest part of the mind. Overall, it made me think; Nikol Kollars took a risk in Fickle Eulogy, sharing her mother’s story with strangers, and in doing so, helped mourn the loss of many mothers everywhere.
Ann enters, stumbling over her mother’s eulogy; it also happens to be her mother’s birthday. The play follows Ann navigating the story of her mother’s tragic case of COVID-19. Director, Javier Galitó-Cava’s decision to stage Fickle Eulogy in thrust seating allowed for immediate intimacy; one moment we were guests at the party listening to Ann’s speech, the next we were hospital workers peering in on Ann’s mother, other times we represented the folding in on Ann with castrating intentions — the effect was never-ending.
Ann’s stream of consciousness paints us a portrait of a vulnerable person in the pandemic. Kollar’s scripts write about a large amount on conspiracy theories (landing on the moon, JFK’s death, vaccinations) and in doing so, highlight her anger towards her mother’s naivety and ignorance as a vulnerable human. Perhaps at times, Kollar’s script jumps too quickly from one to the next without acknowledging the full potential of each subject; however, that may be because Kollar’s energised and committed multi-roling leaves little room for imagination, leaving you wanting more.
A key element of the piece was the presence of Alexa (Amazon’s robotic pal), who listens and guides Ann where she needs her to. Ann continues to rely on her technological friend throughout, who pauses her when her tone is too aggressive or when she uses inappropriate language. For audience members, Alexa wonderfully breaks the serious topic of loss with humour; she interrupts Ann and blatantly answers questions with a lack of emotion. I couldn’t help but mull on the idea that in tragedy, third-party, neutral opinions may just be the best listeners, ’anything is possible within the parameters of your beliefs’ — Alexa knew exactly what to say.
Fickle Eulogy is composed of love and hate, two things that tread a line so close that they at times blur into one. Now I ask myself (as Kollars did in her piece), ‘To Vaccinate or Not To Vaccinate?’. I also ask myself, would I be able to stand in front of a crowd reciting a performed eulogy of kindness if I were insatiably angry at my mother for not taking caution? And lastly, as I leave, I think I should invest in an Alexa because she seems to be a guiding comfort in times of chaos. Overall, Nikol Kollar’s tribute to her mother’s passing is beautiful and honest, a true testament to a creator of the highest standard.