An illustrated authentic depiction of motherhood
Fin is a courier by day, an illustrator by ambition and permanently one bad shift away from admitting neither is working out. She’s a protagonist engineered to represent an entire generation’s inability to hit any of the milestones it was promised in career, relationship or a deposit on a flat. Between the gig economy grind, the on-off boyfriend and the Catholic parents bracing for news they don’t want, the premise is the familiarity of overhearing a friendgroup’s chat.
Genevieve Labuschagne is the clear highlight of the show. She slips effortlessly between Fin, her parents, a string of strangers and Maggie, a comically inept midwife terrified of needles. Her comic timing is sharp, interacts with the audience and keeps the whole hour moving without ever losing sight of Fin underneath all the other voices. It’s the solo show that reminds an audience how much heavy lifting a single performer can do when the writing gives them the room.
What makes the production unique is the screen at the back flashing up illustrations of characters in Fin’s life, along with the ChatGPT search that is perhaps the production’s concession to updating a script that first did the rounds on the fringe circuit in 2001. A stool stands in for a bicycle and a coat rack holds the blue outfits Fin cycles through as she moves from courier gear, jorts and windcoat and helmet, into whichever character needs summoning next.
That sense of texture carries through into the sound too. Scene changes are stitched together with a soundtrack built around Melanie Safka, one of only a handful of women to perform at Woodstock in 1969, and the candle-lit ritual that’s since become concert shorthand is said to trace back to her audiences that night. These musical interludes fill the silence while Fin sketches or gets changed to ride her bike to the next scene, edging closely to a film montage and giving the show a rhythm that stops it ever feeling like a straight run of sketches strung together.
Pregnancy, pregnancy loss and the broader what-am-I-doing-with-my-life spiral all get their due, though it’s hard not to wonder whether the baby is being offered up as the destiny. Maybe it is for some women, and maybe that’s exactly the choice the play is trying to highlight. It’s an honest and hopeful show that Labuschagne alone makes it worth the hour.
Am I losing Myself or Just My Figure??’s run at Riverside Studios, London, has now concluded.