Tony award winning Edgewood Entertainments presents Sam Morrison’s Sugar Daddy, opening March 5 at Underbelly Boulevard Soho co-produced by the undeniable Billy Porter and Alan Cumming.
What feels different bringing this show back in 2026?
So much of it feels new in the best way. It feels really special to get to return to the show with Amrou (Al-Kadhi, also known as Glamrou) at the helm and this incredible creative team! Living with a show over years is such a gift. The themes and emotional growth through out the piece come into really clear focus, and we get to pay attention to details we haven’t been able to before. I’m really lucky to get to bring the show back in a way that feels more focused and thoughtful, a little more chaotic and theatrical, but all in all more true to what it’s always wanted to be.
Why does stand-up feel like the right container for something this raw?
Oh golly who knows if it is! haha but for better or worse it’s the way I process most everything in my life. I love storytelling and stand up but really I have a story to share and am doing so in the way that is most true to me. I also really believe grief and death are so funny. Think of how uncomfortable everyone except Irish people get? It’s so full of ironies, contradictions, and strong emotions; something we all experience, but rarely talk about. It’s all sort of the perfect breeding ground for stand up.
What does it mean to fall in love in a place built on queer survival?
Every time I go I go to Provincetown (a west coast town in Massachusetts US known for its vibrant, inclusive and artist-led LGBTQIA+ scene), I seem to learn something new about myself, but usually something that takes years to process. Provincetown is this queer utopia that feels safe but then always challenges me. It’s got this iconic and often troubled history of American pilgrimage, queerness and art that feels larger than life. It’s chock full of historical landmarks and gorgeous, daunting nature. And then it’s just all surrounding this cute as fu*k Main Street. Provincetown feels a little magical to me, and trying to bring even a piece of that energy into a theatre, that sense of connection, history, and possibility – feels like a pretty fun and special thing to do.
How did you recognise the moment when this stopped being a personal catastrophe and became something you could shape for an audience?
It never stops – the grief constantly baffles and overwhelms me in new ways. I’m a comedian who talks about my life and this is all I was thinking about. At a certain point, when I started to perform again, it actually felt crazier to not talk about it. I’m not totally sure why but there’s something that opens me up when I get on stage and it can actually be easier to be both vulnerable and find the joy.
I’ve been working on it for a few years now and the show has evolved so much alongside my own relationship to my grief, but at the beginning it really was all about survival.