Five parties. One big mouth.
Bri's not who she used to be. So she's revisiting the five parties that changed her. A biting and heartfelt odyssey about what it really means to be loud, Gobby is a playlist of awkward encounters, starting over and growing up.
Written and performed by Jodie Irvine this show is a raw and brutally honest journey through one woman's self-discovery of, well, herself. This new play is the perfect definition of dark-comedy, striking an ideal balance between the light and shade of covering some of the more serious themes of mental health, trauma and life after abuse and Bri's (yes, just like the cheese) effervescent and endearingly-awkward personality and some hilarious brief encounters in this five-part(y) voyage that certainly doesn't stink.
Gobby feels like the middle sister to Phoebe Waller-Bridge's 'Fleabag' and Milly Thomas' 'Dust', and I have faith this new one-woman play can and will follow in their successful footsteps.
It dances perfectly between covering topics of mental health and abuse and recounting awkward encounters and bonkers parties, without going too dark or too light on either. An ideal blend of presenting the character of Bri as someone to laugh and empathise with, rather than pity or not take seriously. It's strikingly vulnerable in parts as Bri addresses, in fourth-wall-breaking monologue, her behaviour, thoughts and feelings unfiltered, not worrying about sugar-coating or coming across as 'nice' or likeable as she learns to understand the difference between being loud and being heard.
It's refreshing to witness a writer and performer who is not afraid to delve straight in to the true core of what's really going on with their character, no holds barred, without trying to be polite or ending up self-indulgent. Irvine is well on her way to join the ranks of Thomas and Waller-Bridge, with her writing just as gripping, clever and hilarious.
Irvine flits between accents and characters so flawlessly she's chameleon-like. It's just herself on-stage for the full 60 minutes and though she be but little, she is fierce; her stage-presence and character-work will have you fooled into believing she's never alone as she covers characters in Bri’s life from all over the U.K and even Australia. All of these characters are hilarious yet so real (we all know an Anna!), with particular highlights involving the characters in the murder mystery night and the kitchen (you’ll know what I mean when you see it).
Serafina Cusack's direction utilities the authentic set design of discarded party 'rubbish' and recycles it in the most unsuspecting and clever ways. The happy-hued and fun party paraphernalia and colour schemes of teal and yellow contrast brilliantly with the content matter, always there as that reminder that there is light at the end of the tunnel.
Cusack's staging is simple but effective: a semi-circle of paper plates, confetti, red cups and party poppers are instantly recognisable as the flotsam and jetsam of your typical student and millennial house party and coupled with Macklemore's 2011 hit 'Can't Hold Us' blasting as you enter, I was immediately reminded of my own Fresher's week.
The blank, starkness of The Lion and Unicorn's black-box auditorium almost feels like we're in a 'limbo’ of Bri’s parties past as she navigates and sifts through their physical and metaphorical shrapnel, Kon-Mari-ing that which doesn't spark joy anymore whilst addressing and honouring those encounters and moments that shaped and changed her.
The final scene (without spoiling it) is simple, yet surprisingly and wonderfully moving as Bri saves the most important party till last.
A phoenix rising from the popped balloons and empty cups, 'Gobby' is raw, triumphant and a soaring one-woman odyssey.
Star rating: *****
Ticket Price: Gifted by company (£12 base rate, £10 concession)
Venue: The Lion & Unicorn, Kentish Town
Accessibility: On the first floor of this fringe pub-venue, 2 flights of stairs (toilets are also a further 1-2 flights down to basement level), it has no step-free access.
Comfortability: Un-allocated, comfortable bench/couch-like rows in black box pub theatre. No raking so sometimes visibility is obscured by other patrons' heads and bodies.