‘It’s a Motherf**king Pleasure’ is a Breath of Fresh Hilarious Air
Woolly Mammoth's funny and subversive "It's a Motherf**king Pleasure" is a joyously provocative evening out.
Arriving at a particularly tense time for the nation’s capital, Woolly Mammoth’s funny, subversive It’s a Motherf**king Pleasure is a breath of fresh air. It’s inoculated in that this is British-born and performed theater — and the Brits really do get something of a pass when it comes to the kind of irreverence that would otherwise raise eyebrows and hackles.
Indeed, this special brand of immunity is tested in the first few frenetic minutes of Motherf**king where all energies are spent trying to decipher whether it’s okay to laugh or if this is some kind of awareness-raising exercise (or, in other words, a trap) for the well-intentioned but woefully-not-getting-it.
The truth is, it’s a bit of both. Still, thanks to the sophistication of the piece and its ridiculously warm-hearted humor, it raises far more consciousness than the usual alternative — the engineering of shame.
Created and delivered by disability-led theater company FlawBored — the kind of people who have the Edinburgh Fringe on their resume — this is so-called meta-satire delivered at warp speed. Working on a near-endless loop, it zooms into the action, then zooms out to look at itself, then turns around to look at the audience, then zooms right back into the action, and on again.
For want of a better definition, it’s the theatrical equivalent of Massive Attack’s classic lyric “I was lookin’ back to see if you were lookin’ back at me, to see me lookin’ back at you.” Once one gets the hang of it — made possible by the trio’s carefully crafted shifting perspectives and delivery — it’s a wildly intelligent ride.
Taking on multiple roles, the show’s trio glides between an enthusiastic emphasis on theater accessibility and a more-or-less plot centered on the grasping attempts of PR company Rize to manage and monetize a wannabe blind influencer named Ross.
There is plenty of comic fodder here: HR personnel desperate not to put a foot wrong, ruthless corporate operatives devoid of any kind of moral compass, and the unflappable Ross, who is more than happy navigating and exploiting almost everything going on around him.
Rife with rueful commentary and displays that throw up attitudes and realities in rapid succession, the quandaries are tossed at the audience like so many puzzles. What makes this so appealing is that the invitation is to share in the puzzle-solving, not in being given the answers.
About as ensemble as you can get, all three of the writer/players are interwoven parts of a high-impact whole. If there is a lynchpin, it’s probably Samuel Brewer, who does a superb job of emceeing events with the kind of driving charisma that punctuates the humor with a little edge. “Don’t think you can just sit there and be entertained,” his manner suggests, “You’re definitely involved.”
He also gives a convincing energy to his zeitgeisty PR executive, finger on the ever-quickening pulse, eye on the prize. In her multiple roles, Chloe Palmer is especially funny and on-point with the PC contortions and self-flagellations of her HR personnel. Aarian Mehrabani plays Ross with deadpan aplomb and some finely-honed irony (and offering the tiniest whiff of another great straight-man: British comic Joe Wilkinson).
And kudos to the writers for their inventive use of closed-captioning to humorously tinker with the fourth wall and find yet another way to go even more meta with the experience.
If there’s anything to quibble with, it’s perhaps that, occasionally, the speed of the revolving delivery, observation, and comment accelerates to the point that a few things get lost in the shuffle or miss their moments.
And, in their quest for a comfortable informality to the proceedings, there are some moments when things coast a little more on vibe than substance — albeit never more than fleetingly. But the overwhelming takeaway here is a joyously provocative elevation of the conversation.
Let’s hope Woolly continues to offer a platform for the alternative scene across the pond.
It’s a Motherf**king Pleasure (★★★★☆) runs through March 30 at Woolly Mammoth, 641 D St. NW. Tickets are $40 to $70. Call 202-393-3939 or visit www.woollymammoth.net.
Support Metro Weekly’s Journalism
These are challenging times for news organizations. And yet it’s crucial we stay active and provide vital resources and information to both our local readers and the world. So won’t you please take a moment and consider supporting Metro Weekly with a membership? For as little as $5 a month, you can help ensure Metro Weekly magazine and MetroWeekly.com remain free, viable resources as we provide the best, most diverse, culturally-resonant LGBTQ coverage in both the D.C. region and around the world. Memberships come with exclusive perks and discounts, your own personal digital delivery of each week’s magazine (and an archive), access to our Member's Lounge when it launches this fall, and exclusive members-only items like Metro Weekly Membership Mugs and Tote Bags! Check out all our membership levels here and please join us today!
You must be logged in to post a comment.