★★★
Life. It’s raw, it’s real, and there’s karaoke. This is the preface to Olivia Hannah’s Sh*t Life Crisis. It manages to tell you exactly what to expect from this 60-minute camp pop fest that takes you through Grace (Florence Odumosu) and Abbie’s (Madeleine MacMahon) experiences with grief, illness and their escapism through queer pop classics.
The rawness of this play naturally comes from its plot. It follows Grace who has beaten cancer with the support of her best friend Abbie who has also battled the disease in the past. These parts are played really well by both actors. Even if their performances are a little overly kitsch at times, they bring the script to life (and have solid vocals too). The fact this is a two-hander and both actors have a natural on-stage rapport provides an intimacy that is required when telling such a powerful and emotive story. Also viewing this play at Newcastle’s intimate Alphabetti Theatre immerses you into the story, as well as, the music.
The play’s realness comes from the realistic portrayal of life post-cancer. Despite being given the “all clear”, Grace still feels gripped by fear and worry. This sits in stark contrast to the typical depictions of cancer on stage and screen, which often end in tragedy or a happily ever after. Sh*t Life Crisis, instead, explores how even once you are cancer free, it is hard to escape the side effects of treatment and the fear of the illness returning. Thus, leading to the friends partying at their favourite pub, ‘The Slippery Duck’, to party and celebrate their survival. Queue the karaoke.
Sh*t Life Crisis opens with Abbie singing David Guetta’s ‘Titanium’, which sets a precedent for what is about to follow—belter after belter (Robyn’s ‘Dancing On My Own’ was a definite crowd pleaser). Music and more specifically karaoke connects the whole play together. The show is staged in a karaoke bar, with both the characters being people you would see on an average Saturday night out. Rather cleverly the narrative is also told like it’s a stand-up gig.
However, the staging and song choices do at times make you want the dialogue to hurry up so you can move on to the next song, which is perhaps not ideal when dealing with a subject matter like cancer. On the topic of dialogue, it is at times clunky, on the nose and overshadowed by the soundtrack. The discourses surrounding death and grief miss the mark and don’t quite land with the pathos I felt was intended. The “dark” comedy promised doesn’t act as a helpful tonic to this issue either, and instead it feels like quite a mediocre attempt to parody millennial humour.
These issues don’t take away from what sits at the centre of the play. It is still a uniquely uplifting look at the trials and tribulations faced by those battling cancer. It still leaves you walking out with a smile on your face and packs a punch with its 60 minute run time. Grace and Abbie still manage to remind you that even in the darkest corners of life, you can find joy and glimmers of hope.
So, apart from the lyrics to Chappell Roan’s ‘Hot to Go’, the other thing that this show will teach you, is that when life is shit, it means it’s time to start singing loudly, for all to hear…
Words by Cory Gourley
Support The Indiependent
We’re trying to raise £200 a month to help cover our operational costs. This includes our ‘Writer of the Month’ awards, where we recognise the amazing work produced by our contributor team. If you’ve enjoyed reading our site, we’d really appreciate it if you could donate to The Indiependent. Whether you can give £1 or £10, you’d be making a huge difference to our small team.