Based on a recommendation, I went to see Nanette, written and performed by Hannah Gadsby. Advertised as an award winner at the Edinburgh Fringe and Melbourne International Comedy Festivals, I expected to laugh. And I did. Cursive letters are like friends holding hands. Ms. Gadsby’s Tasmanian family tree isn’t really branches reaching out, it’s more inbred and resembles a topiary at the top. Her mother equates the shock of hearing that Hannah is a lesbian to telling her that she is a murderer.
Nanette of the title is a barista shaped like a thumb in an apron. Presumably there was some sort of relationship there but it’s not really explored much further. There are laughs on order here. Like many great comedians, Ms. Gadsby knows how to wring humor from discomfort. What makes Nanette so much more than a comic monologue is the willingness to pause from the funny and take us down to a much darker, more intimate place. She is very angry and we learn why. The segment on art history will forever change how I look at a Picasso.
No more needs to be said. Nanette is running until April 15th for those with the time and inclination to see something unique, memorable, hilarious and devastating. If you cannot attend this run, a performance in Sydney has been taped for Netflix. Nanette is another show perfectly suited for the time in which we live. Ms. Gadsby claims this is her last show. Let’s hope not.