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Content warning: References to violence, sexual assault, addiction, terminal illness and other traumatic experiences.
Whether, and how much, funny is involved will be up to the audience to decide in “Trauma Queen,” Liv Shoup’s Fringe offering or “Ill. A Light Tragedy” from Rebecca Wilson, two of several Fringe shows where comedy and trouble intersect.
“If you are laughing at something, there’s a little good in the world and you can still feel good,” Shoup said.
Comedy is a tried-and-true storytelling method, says Amina Robinson, an associate professor of theater at Temple University.
“There is a notion that I grew up understanding that says, “Sometimes things hurt so bad, that all you can do is laugh,’” she said.
Robinson is directing her own tough mix, “Topdog/Underdog,” by prizewinning playwright Suzan-Lori Parks. It’s being co-staged by two area theater companies — People’s Light in Malvern Sept. 16 through Oct. 18 and then at the Arden Theatre Co. in Philadelphia, Oct. 29 through Dec. 13.
“Using humor sometimes disarms the audience,” Robinson said, “allowing them to receive the subject matter on a deeper level because their defenses are down. Other times, it has the opposite effect and softens the blow of what otherwise would not have been easily palatable. In which case, the message is heard but couched in a laugh to allow the audience to remain somewhat detached.”
Also, “playwrights may be using humor as a means of dealing with their own trauma,” Robinson said.
Like the main character in “Trauma Queen,” Shoup is still processing her story through stand-up comedy, although the lead character’s experiences are not exactly Shoup’s.
In “Trauma Queen,” the lead character, one of three, has been violently sexually assaulted. She tries to work out the trauma by being a stand-up comic, dancing all around the subject to critical acclaim until something shifts.
In Shoup’s real life, she didn’t immediately recognize her experience for what it was. “It was interesting,” Shoup said, “because it wasn’t traumatizing at the moment. But then two years later, it hit. And I had to take a year-long break from writing [the play], because I was scared to touch it.”
“When I’m the deliverer of a joke about something bad that happened, there’s a little bit of protection in it for me,” Shoup said. “People are laughing. Maybe they are laughing out of discomfort, but I’ll take it.”
Wilson’s story is still in progress. Two years ago, she moved back to Atlanta to take care of her mother. Her mom’s ovarian cancer, first diagnosed in 2019, had been in remission until it wasn’t.
Not only did Wilson have to cope with her mother’s cancer, but, living in the South, she had to deal with what she describes as the southern’s relentless pseudo-sunny approach to dealing with life’s problems.
“You smile at everything and if anyone asks you anything, you say, `I’m great. How are you?’” Wilson said. “There’s a morality about projecting that everything is well and good. If you can’t be happy, then you are bad.”
In Atlanta, she turned to alcohol as her only escape, which worsened the situation, eventually landing her in a psych world.
“There were years of things that were not OK,” she said. “But, through stand-up, I could always make people laugh about any situation.
“A lot of my material was getting a little darker,” Wilson said. “One of the jokes I wrote was: `I learned that hypersexuality is a symptom of depression. Two tabs of Zoloft gets me out of my bed but doesn’t keep me out of other people’s.’”
Comic writers from Mark Twain to Carol Burnett have said that “Comedy is tragedy – plus time.” But it doesn’t always turn out that way.
In Scotland this summer, at least 9,000 people signed a petition against “Cartwheel,” a sold-out solo show by Amanda Knox staged at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, the 4,000-plus productions mother of all Fringe festivals.
Knox spent four years in jail in Italy before she was acquitted of murdering her roommate, Meredith Kercher, in 2007. Detractors, including Kercher’s sister, said Knox’s show was disrespectful to Kercher’s memory and risked normalizing violence against women.
“Cartwheel is a show about motherhood, raising a daughter in a world that is unfair and dangerous for women,” Knox responded on Instagram. “Cartwheel honors Meredith Kercher’s memory and calls out the violence that was done to her and to me.”
It’s nowhere near as epic in Philadelphia, but there are lessons to be learned in the mix of comedy and tragedy, the two Philly Fringe artists say.
“Comedy can’t save you from everything,” Stroup said. “It’s important for learning to cope in your own way. It’s about facing your fears head on. And, it’s a lot about forgiving yourself.”
And Wilson?
“It’s important to microdose grief, so that when hard experiences happen in real life, you are equipped to metabolize them,” Wilson said.
“I want the audience to get that we’re all connected in this world and everyone goes through hard times and there will be waves of dealing with things,” she said.
“I want people to approach themselves and others who are going through a hard time with curiosity as opposed to contempt. Feelings are valid, so how can we act in our own best interests and the interests of others… so we are better friends, better partners and better citizens.”
FYI:
“Trauma Queen,” Sept. 27, The Lemonade Stand, Plays and Players Skinner Studio, 1714 Delancey St., Philadelphia
“Ill. A Light Tragedy”, Sept. 24, The Perch (Warehouse), 2321 Emerald St., Philadelphia
TopDog/UnderDog, directed by Amina Robinson at two theaters, through Oct. 18, People’s Light, 39 Conestoga Road, Malvern and at the Arden Theatre, 40 N. 2nd St., Philadelphia Oct. 29-Dec. 13.
