In a hilarious and moving journey, Riki Lindhome uses a multitude of musical instruments, voice and comedy to take the audience on her quest to become a mother. Rating
Excellent
I thought it was a bit random that “Belle” from Beauty and the Beast was the song playing in the auditorium before the show started if I’m honest. A Disney fairytale song as the warmup for a 9:30pm comedy show in Soho?! Odd. Mentally I moved on as the multitalented, mercurial, tour de force that is Riki Lindhome came on stage. Initially she is quiet and unassuming, cute even. In opposition to her rather sweet appearance, guitar in hand, she opens with a rude and hilarious song about the realities of sex (and ideally conception) in our decrepit years. Which is 35 to be clear, and before we get all riled up about 35 clearly not being anywhere near decrepit the reality is that in terms of conception and parenthood that is old.
This is the true story of Riki’s quest for motherhood. In her early thirties she was forward thinking enough to understand that she wanted to be a mother and froze some eggs in anticipation of that (cue funny anecdotes and photos of her shooting up hormones in an airport car park pre-harvesting). Initially desperate to conceive herself, Riki used sperm donation (cue more hilarious slides and discussion about a friend chosen from her phone contacts to deliver the required seed) before continuing to speak of the pressure and failure that is part of that journey. She is extraordinarily talented, moving from voice, to guitar, to keyboards and even flute to articulate her journey in self-penned song. Funny? Yes. Heartbreaking and emotional? Even more so.
This would be more than enough, frankly, for a wonderful evening out, but on top of this Riki uses the metaphor of a fairy tale to explore the traditional, linear journey of love which leads to ‘happy ever after’. A lover of Disney musicals herself (now I understand the use of “Belle”), she picks out unrecognised, smaller background characters to highlight the absurd but real: unattractive perhaps, but an essential part of the plot. She then pulls apart the expected trajectory of such a fairy tale – with its quests, magic mentors, problems to be solved and moral lessons before the ‘happy ever after’ with hilarious but moving realism.
This is not the journey for real women. Rarely does the promised linear journey materialise. Instead, we ricochet back and forth as more problems unravel and the promised happy ending retreats further and further away, desperation increasing as the time available to us to be a parent slips away. Riki also treats the audience to a dose of gynaecological realism: the lack of understanding and research in female fertility has its consequences, none of which support the would-be mother.
I am reluctant to use the phrase ‘showcasing the full gambit of emotions’, overused as it is, but that is exactly what the show does. Riki takes us on every element of her journey with her problematic relationships, failed pregnancies, work disappointments and clearly becomes physically drained as the show goes on. As an audience we lean in and live the emotions with her before rising to our feet as one at the end in recognition of her extraordinary talent and truth.
Writer: Riki Lindhome
Director: Brian McElhaney
Riki Lindhome: Dead Inside plays at the Soho Theatre until Saturday 18 April.
