
by Laura Kressly
Over the latter part of the previous decade, a particular demographic raved about the relateability of Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s Fleabag on both stage and screen. This show voiced the sexually liberated, highly educated, white, middle-class millennial women who, though not lacking in representation, felt their plight was previously ignored. Brought up on the mantra that success is theirs to be had, neoliberal capitalism means they now angrily navigate a world that isn’t as easy as expected. Yet despite the difficulties of adulting, their privilege rightly invites critique. Liz Kingsman’s satire of one-woman shows does just that, along with taking aim at the tropes that many one-woman shows rely on. She eviscerates them wholeheartedly using comedy and metatheatre to hilarious effect.
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