“Take a seat, the doctor will see you shortly.” Who’s responsible for what goes on in her mind until then?
I walked into the Smock Alley Theatre at 1:13 pm sharp on a Saturday, right after speaking to my mother on the phone, with a fascination for theatre and the expectation of enjoying a good show as part of Fringe. However, when I left the theatre an hour later, I was transfixed and transformed by Hannah Gumbrielle’s extraordinary production, Malignant Humour.
“Her humour did not hesitate to immediately lighten the mood by straying towards jokes about our day-to-day dilemmas, while her expressions of confronting pain and suffering made her almost unsettlingly relatable to the audience”
Performed by Hannah Gumbrielle, the autobiographical show portrays how it feels to be a chemotherapy patient left in the waiting room for a little too long. Through a distinctive blend of theatre, trapeze and humour, dark as the dim atmospheric lighting throughout the show, Gumbrielle left her audience feeling sympathetic, appreciative and in tears all at once. Her humour did not hesitate to immediately lighten the mood by straying towards jokes about our day-to-day dilemmas, while her expressions of confronting pain and suffering made her almost unsettlingly relatable to the audience.
When I first heard the title “Malignant Humour”, I thought it would be a simple, yet contagiously funny act. But, I’m glad I was wrong. The show was titled very intelligently, revealing accurately what it showcases, yet at the same time, cryptic enough to intrigue theatre enthusiasts such as myself to want to find out more. The beginning scenes of the show reflected this duality. It began on a light note, touching comical subjects irrelevant to the main topic, uniquely using the soundtrack Heart of Glass by Blondie, before tiptoeing to discuss her feelings of isolation and expressing how it often felt like nothing could alleviate her struggle.
My favourite subject touched on by Hannah was human struggle. We have little control over our challenges, yet we feel awful discussing them publicly. I instantly understood when it was indirectly pointed at, because its relatability extends from either my act of posting happy faces on social media to refusing to reach out to a counsellor, all while being a psychology student. People around you try to make you feel strong and brave. Yet, when emptiness lingers like an unwanted parasite, you’re left feeling guilty for not being grateful.
The introspective nature of the performance left me with the realisation that there is an emptiness that persists in each of us. Recognising life’s fragility overshadows the guilt or reluctance that often prevents us from pursuing what’s necessary to keep living. The rise and fall of the trapeze bar with an IV drip hung on its side, and Hannah’s outstanding act handled it flawlessly, giving me goosebumps until the end.
