Shock Therapy at Smock Theatre Dublin Review
Written by Ciarán for Theatre and Tonic
Disclaimer: Gifted tickets in exchange for an honest review. All views are our own
Laylah Beattie’s one-woman show, Shock Therapy gets off to a false start, in more than one way. After introducing herself and explaining that her show will begin with depressing stories, and then transition into dark humour, Beattie stops, excuses herself, and leaves Smock Alley’s three-quarter stage Main Space. The resultant bustling from the theatre staff confirms that this isn’t part of the show, and after a few minutes the lights come up and we’re instructed to chat amongst ourselves for a few minutes. When Beattie returns to the stage, she’s holding an iPad – “my crutch,” she self-deprecatingly calls it. This beginning was misleading because it suggested that Beattie would be unsure on her feet, or uncomfortable as a performer. In reality, she is easy, engaging, and amusing company for the hour of Shock Therapy, even if the show doesn’t fully cohere into a broader narrative outside of her own experiences.
Beattie is a trans woman and writer, performer, podcaster, and activist who has been a public figure for almost a decade, but this show is intensely and inherently personal. She discusses her mental and physical health, her experience of growing up in the wrong body, and how she dealt with the harassment and bullying that comes with being a trans youth in rural Ireland. While never looking to shy away from traumatic experiences, or unpleasant things she’s done to other people, Beattie maintains a thick seam of dark humour that noticeably lessons any potential tension in the audience. It’s hard not to wish that she had leaned into this more, as it appears to be where her greatest talent as a performer is.
Beattie revels in being on the stage, and this is evident despite her initial discomfort being there. There are noises from phones, a musical cue goes wrong, and at a number of moments she notifies us that her preceding statement was a joke (not because it wasn’t funny, but because it followed something exceptionally dark, so we didn’t know whether or not we were allowed to laugh) – despite all of these, she keeps her cool, never panics or rushes through her material, and keeps up her light but intense mode of storytelling.
The stories, it must be said, truly are intense, and need to be told. She talks in depth about anorexia, hospitalisation, suicide attempts, and sexual assault and bullying. Stories of interactions with people in her mental health facility are tragic and deeply human, showcasing the joy and levity that can be tapped into in any situation. She describes an episode with a fellow patient in a social area, after which she is released because, it seems, she is openly embracing religion – “Angela was a loon,” Beattie deadpans. When lauding her therapist at a later stage, meanwhile, she casually says that her therapist understands that Beattie is really “an emerging socialite taken out in her prime,” and it’s lines like this that make it impossible to not love her candour and her ease with her subject matter.
The fundamental issue with this work is not so much what Beattie does, but more what she doesn’t. While she brings up social matters such as the access to medical care and attitudes towards trans people, there isn’t enough to take this outside of Beattie’s own personal context, and develop a wider understanding of the world and these issues. She has fascinating insights about her own life and relationship with transitioning adolescent self – “I abandoned him,” she says – but they remain a bit undercooked. Instances such as this highlight the limitations in the one-person show format. Were this a straight-up stand-up show (and I would without a doubt see Beattie do stand-up), these stories and experiences could be used purely for jokes, and were it a play we could have the interaction between Laylah and her pre-transition self. This would highlight the inherent complexity and ambiguities that have arisen, and allow Beattie to unpack them in a way that brings people into her world and her life, instead of keeping a layer of protective glass between herself and her audience.
Shock Therapy did what was expected of it, and provided valuable insight into someone who has survived considerable mental health problems. Any work that broadens the discussion of the issues Beattie raises is to be lauded, but it is also important that this discussion be deepened, and here, unfortunately, she falls down somewhat. I would gladly see a stand-up routine by her, or read her essays or non-fiction work, but as a piece of theatre, Shock Therapy needed a stronger directorial hand to be crafted into a fully satisfying theatrical experience that speaks above and beyond the performer’s own life.
Played at Smock Alley, Dublin on 21st May.
★ ★ ★