We sat down for an exclusive interview with Jessica Barton whose show Dirty Work brings some Mary Floppin’s cheer to January at the Soho Theatre.
Wipe the wee from the toilet seat and pick up your dirty undies, because The Perfect Nanny is back to teach all you little boys – and girls – a thing or two about running a prim and proper household. Hailed “a rising star and quadruple threat” (Australian Arts Review) and returning from a completely sold-out Edinburgh Fringe run in 2025, Jessica Barton combines a spoonful of song, dance, clowning and deep-cleaning to present a skanky and empowering comedy debut.
This show runs from 21st Jan to 24th Jan at Soho Theatre. Tickets here
How did blending your VCA musical-theatre training with Gaulier clowning shape the delicious persona of Mary Floppins?
I adore the structure, precision and technique that runs through Musical Theatre, it creates athletes. Here is the sheet music, here is the choreography, here is the script. Do it well, honour the tradition, continue the legacy. Conversely, my training at Gaulier unravelled all of that in an amazing way. It taught me to change on a dime, to fall in love with the fear that comes with existing in not knowing what to do or what will work on stage, and most of all, to not take myself so damn seriously. But there is a world where those elements co-exist and play together. With Mary Floppins, she carries all of that charm and exactitude, but there is something feral and unpredictable that peeks out every now and again.
What do you think audiences are actually craving when they respond so wildly to a character who weaponises domestic disgust for empowerment?
I think they respond wildly because they see familiarity. The everyday mundane frustrations of living as an adult in a relationship, or perhaps even with other housemates or siblings, come to the fore and everyone can share in the tiny things that drive us crazy. Whether it’s discrepancies in how we stack the dishwasher or, as my hoarding slob of an ex once said, “different threshold of cleanliness”, how we live and cohabitate in shared spaces is a common experience that people can relate to. For women (who carry out 75% of unpaid care and domestic work globally*) I hope they feel that their frustrations of picking up after others is not trivial and should be voiced. For men, I hope they understand that their partners may want to f**k them more if they took care of themselves and quit searching for mummy within their hunny.
As a “quadruple threat,” which skill—song, dance, clowning or cleaning —became the unexpected backbone of Dirty Work during its evolution?
Cleaning is by far the backbone of Dirty Work – as an audience member in Taipei said after watching, “she’s not only cleaning up the stage, she’s cleaning up her heart”.
How has performing this show across Australia, Taipei and Edinburgh shifted your understanding of what different cultures find funny—or taboo?
Throughout the last year performing Dirty Work, I’ve come to realise the intense nostalgic effect that Julie Andrews’ Mary Poppins has on British culture and how precious it is. I adore the film and the character is well-loved in Australia, which meant Australian audiences enjoyed seeing someone posh, prim and proper get down and dirty. However, I believe she is more held in a glass box in the UK, it’s riskier territory to mess up someone so perfect, and fair enough. Therefore, in rehearsal with my wonderful director Dan Wye, we’ve been interrogating how we can best honour the incredible firm-but-kind legacy of the original iconic character within the show’s context. However, it turns out male helplessness is universally understood and laughable. Who knew!
What personal rule or fear did you have to break to commit fully to the skankiest, boldest parts of the show?
Back in my Musical Theatre degree, there was an elective subject called “Intimate Acts” which was all about making your own work. I had a panic attack after the first class and signed up for Pop Song Writing instead. I was in a terrible fear of making my own work, I vowed that I would never do it: I wasn’t smart enough, I wasn’t experienced enough, and I didn’t have anything prominent to say. Writing Dirty Work came out of necessity – a totally bizarre life experience occurred that I didn’t want to happen to anyone else, I had a need to tell the story. So, I overcame my fear of writing my own work in order to fully commit to being skanky & bold. In this case, skanky & bold means exposing crap behaviour and holding cis-het men accountable for their living styles. The irony of fearing making my own work whilst happily writing my own songs in Pop Song Writing class is now clear to me. Hindsight is a beautiful thing.
In a piece that leans so heavily on audience interaction, what’s the wildest moment that taught you something new about your own performance limits?
There is a part in the show when I am lifted off the ground and one man’s hand was accidentally placed on my left boob the whole time. He didn’t notice, but I pointed it out to the audience, and we all got to share in the confusion and hilarity of it all. It was dreadfully funny. I am still discovering and playing with the power that I have as a performer on stage when an audience member is up there with me. There are clowns out there who manage to get their audiences to do some really wild stuff, I feel like I’m still learning how far I can go whilst keeping them and myself safe.
* McKinsey Global Institute (2015), The Power of Parity: how advancing women’s equality can add $12 trillion to global growth