Malignant Humour
Boys’ School, Smock Alley Theatre
★★★★★
Hannah has found a lump. It’s on her collarbone. “Clavicle”, her doctor corrects. “It’s nothing, right?” she asks. It isn’t nothing. Hannah needs a biopsy. He pencils her in for Tuesday; Thursdays are too busy. She has three malignant tumours. Her doctor chastises her for crying after he and his staff botch delivering her diagnosis.
She’s a “big girl” and they shouldn’t have to put up with crying.
Malignant Humour returns to Smock Alley Theatre as part of this year’s Dublin Fringe Festival after a wildly popular run at the Scene & Heard festival in January.
Hannah Gumbrielle’s autobiographical show is rooted in her battle with lymphoma during adolescence. A disclaimer outside the entrance to the appropriately death-defying story flags “graphic medical content”. But the material is far nimbler and funnier than a circus act inspired by lymphoma has any right to be. A scan is announced with a recitation of potential side effects. Naturally, Hannah zooms in on the most embarrassing scenario. “I’m going to piss myself?” she exclaims in horror.
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A nurse attempts to soothe frayed nerves by evoking the comparatively primitive medical tools of the medieval era. Gumbrielle notes that a “queer woman with minus-seven eyesight” and cancer, such as herself, probably had no chance of surviving the Middle Ages.
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Gumbrielle’s show is succinct: a one-woman wonder annotated by recorded voices, increasingly screwy variations on Blondie’s Heart of Glass, and a radio show doubling as a tormenting inner monologue. Months of chemotherapy and radiotherapy are distilled into two poignant anecdotes: Hannah’s mother brushing her remaining hair into tinfoil and a French-accented nurse who compares Hannah’s red doxorubicin treatment to Grenadine.
These recollections culminate in an aerial performance. Gumbrielle spins and tumbles to dizzying effect to replicate the physiological rollercoaster of her cancer treatment’s side effects. The writer, director and high-wire performer describes herself as “multidisciplinary aerial artist specialising in cocoon, trapeze, counterweight and harness” with the modest punchline: “I climb things and spin fast.”
She sure does. And her storytelling beats are as acrobatic as she is.
Beneath the lively comedy, darker interactions with paternalistic doctors and reactions range from cooing to scolding among medical professionals. Gumbrielle rises above the noise for a triumphant denouement.
Continues at Smock Alley Theatre, as part of Dublin Fringe Festival, until Sunday, September 15th
