★★★½

“It has that kind of unhinged chaotic quality that has become an excellent currency for the funnies”

‘Weather Girl’, from the same producer (Francesca Moody) of ‘Baby Reindeer’ and ‘Fleabag’ fame, is a one-woman cyclone of unhinged peppiness and untethered feminine rage. And Julia McDermott, who plays Stacey Gross the ‘Weather Girl’, is increasingly engulfed by it, much like California itself, whose fires she reports on.

Directed by Tyne Rafaeli, ‘Weather Girl’ is essentially a 70-minute monologue charting Stacey’s psychotic breakdown. And yet, it’s hard not to identify with her derangement. As Stacey, looking like Elle Woods’ protégé, sips prosecco from her Stanley cup, numbing the drones of the male morons who surround her, her actions seem rather justified. The wilful ignorance of those around her abounds; no one respects her or pays her increasingly desperate statements seriously; the world is burning, and people are stupid: does her insanity not appear a hyper-normal response?

The weather Stacey reports on portends apocalypse, and yet, in the last few months in the real world, has become but more prescient. Her part of California, Fresno, is suffering frequent natural disaster-level fire, and drought is on the rampage. The feeling of divine retribution is explicit here.

Nothing about this production is erroneous or feels like a misstep. The staging (Isabella Byrd) is sparse, arranged with cameras and ring lights; it possesses a meta-quality. It’s versatile, complemented greatly by the lighting (and smoke machine) which manages to conjure pathetic fallacy at all turns– it is a show about weather, remember.

The lighting – with the aid of that smoke machine – obscures and darkens the stage as the show progresses, and a magical realism seeps in. I won’t divulge anything more, except that it involves a reunion with Stacey’s mother, who is homeless and usually high, but seems to possess a kind of witchy power that augments her vagabond otherness.

But despite its bleak messaging, ‘Weather Girl’ screams in dark humour. It has that kind of unhinged chaotic quality that has become an excellent currency for the funnies, especially when depicted by women.

One dramaturgical question did arise for me: having reviewed several one-person shows, I still question why? McDermott is wonderful, with constant command of the room, and working harmoniously with Brian Watkin’s nuanced script. But Aeschylus did introduce the second actor for a reason: I feel that rarely would a show’s quality be lessened by introducing a second actor. That said, whilst I don’t think ‘Weather Girl’ justified the one-person show, it certainly excelled within the framework. The Valley Girl accent does also feel a little akin to having pencils thrown at your face for an hour. But you soon get used to that.

‘Weather Girl’ is the kind of art that reaffirms that theatre is and can be polemical without being explicitly didactic or dogmatic. And the world is burning, literally, but just as much metaphorically. We should probably be reminded of that more often, because feeling untethered from reality is fast becoming a refuge of sanity.

HOMO ALONE

The Other Palace

★★★

“The four-person cast was wonderful: consistently strong, committed, and just generally vibesy”

Homo Alone, a Christmas show performing at The Other Palace’s Studio, is, shockingly, an adaptation of the cult classic film Home Alone, but just very gay.

It seems surplus to requirement to summarise the main plot points of the show because you’d be frankly unhinged to have seen this without having already seen the film. And yet: Kevin McAllister (Elliott Evans) is 8 and yet rampantly wrestling with his sexuality – I say ‘rampantly wrestling’ not so much because he is at war with internalised homophobia, but more because he is a very highly sexed 8-year-old. Family dysfunction sees Kevin alone over Christmas, and all hell breaks loose. Look up the film if you need more plot summary.

Written by Jodie Prenger and Bobby Delaney, and directed by Alex Jackson, Homo Alone was an uproarious success with the audience. Their hysterical laughter was an almost constant underscoring. For me, much of the humour felt akin to being wacked in the face by a silicone dildo: not very subtle and largely penis related. Of course, humour is subjective, but constant gags (literally) about the human body and scatological – or scatological adjacent – comedy is really my very least favourite. And it abounded.

Despite this, when other brands of comedy were used, there was much success, especially when the piece leant on absurdism and self-effacing, meta-theatrical commentary. The four-person cast was wonderful: consistently strong, committed, and just generally vibesy – with great singing voices, to boot. Yet, a couple of choices were a misstep: predominantly, the eking out of Catherine O’Hara’s CV. In this adaptation, Kate (Allie Dart) clones Moira Rose (of Schitt’s Creek renown). This was amusing a couple of times, but in the absence of O’Hara, quickly loses its charm. Still, all four actors multi-roled with great finesse – I especially enjoyed Steph Asamoah’s chameleonic switches, from Buzz, to gay air steward Francois, to Celine Dion. And the bird lady from Home Alone 2: this was a real highlight.

Set design (Louie Whitemore) was slick and effective: the neighbouring houses bordering the top of the stage like little pop-up figures was a lovely touch. Many of these auxiliary elements were, in fact, very slick, and when they weren’t, compensation was made through slicker improvisation and poorly stifled giggles.

Such improvisation and poorly stifled giggles were, perhaps, the highlight of the show. Though humour was its focus, the funniest moments – at least for me – were when the cast were confronted with the sheer ridiculousness of the show (a frequent occurrence) and contorted themselves with suppressed laughter. Whilst this was very enjoyable, unplanned moments of silliness generally shouldn’t be the standout hilarity of a show founded upon its silly humour.

One thing I’ve been pondering over is whether the constraints of adaptation weakened the production. Whilst the content of Home Alone is great material for pastiche and adaptation, the plot points this show had to cover and manipulate made it drag somewhat. It was as if they were obligatory but a nuisance, quickly ticked off the theatrical to-do list so they could get back to the singing, dildo wielding, and Moira-impersonating. Good for a Christmas giggle or two, but not the finest seasonal show out there.

WEATHER GIRL

Soho Theatre

★★★½

“It has that kind of unhinged chaotic quality that has become an excellent currency for the funnies”

WEATHER GIRL

Soho Theatre

Reviewed on 12th March 2025

by Violet Howson

Photography by Pamela Raith

Previously reviewed at this venue:

WEATHER GIRL

WEATHER GIRL

WEATHER GIRL

HOMO ALONE

The Other Palace

★★★

“The four-person cast was wonderful: consistently strong, committed, and just generally vibesy”

HOMO ALONE at The Other Palace

Reviewed on 4th December 2024

by Violet Howson

Photography by Mark Senior

Previously reviewed at this venue:

HOMO ALONE

HOMO ALONE