BlueSky post: MN Fringe show #2: A Good Cancer to Have - easily the funniest thing I've ever seen about cancer; Sam Sweere has a great sense of the absurd, as well as the human, in a story like this; twisting theatrical conventions in ways I need more than a post to unpack; stellar work, start to finish; 5 stars
Yes, I can hear the chorus now, “Well, of course you gave the cancer show performed by a recent cancer survivor 5 stars. If you did anything else you’d be a monster.” Oh, I could be a monster, trust me. I have gotten in a lot of trouble for reviews I’ve written for a lot less. Then there’s the other chorus who probably got tired of me raving about the same playwright/actor last year and his show “A Horse Walks Out Onto The Stage And Dies” (I saw it three times, so…) “Well, if you love this guy so much, why don’t you just marry him and shut up about it?” Well, he’s straight, less than half my age and already married to a woman so there are number of hurdles to that particular strategy but thanks for the suggestion. You’re just gonna have to trust me when I say that “A Good Cancer To Have” earns every one of those five stars, again, for a very different show that is still very much a Sam Sweere joint.
“You love the deepest in the mud. You don’t care what other people think in the mud. The person that you are, out of the mud - that’s amazing.”
Having recently lived through a period where I had to watch someone I love with a bad cancer to have be aggressively taken from me and the rest of the family, I am all too familiar with the many ways Sam Sweere’s struggle with cancer could have gone sideways. So I am in the market for a presentation from a person who got lucky and got to come out on the other side of things (just recently, too, like only two weeks ago, final chemotherapy appointment, cancer-free, got to ring the bell and everything.). But it also makes me a terrible audience member for this genre of theater because at the first whiff of bullshit of dishonesty, I am out. You can lose me really fast.
“I feel like I should be mad at God, but I’m not. Just a little annoyed.”
Thankfully, Sam Sweere also has no patience for bullshit. And the myriad absurdities of the healthcare industry are perfect fodder for his brand of comedy. Talking about the waiting for test results, or even to get an appointment with the right doctor to get you the test in the first place, the waiting to hear whether you’re probably going to live, or die, what the odds are, that was when Sweere got me. If you have ever had the misfortune of needing to wait like that, you see yourself in this story. And if you haven’t, God bless you, I hope you never do, it’s the worst.
“How would you live your life differently? Why do you need cancer to make you think that way? Just do one thing.”
Honestly he had me in those opening moments when the nurse (Leah Sweere) asked him for his name and birthday and he had to recite it. Because they make you say it, over and over and over again, all day long. Because the doctors and nurses see so many people. And they need to be sure they they’re giving the person in front of them the right treatment, the right drugs, the right surgery. They need you to keep telling them who you are. Because you’re just one more person in a long line of sick people, one more battle they’re either going to win or lose. Same for you. Name and date of birth, name and date of birth, name and date of birth… (and when you’re wondering whether you’re going to live or die, being asked to recall your date of birth repeatedly is, a little obscene, or at the very least, insensitive.)
“The little therapy bird from the cancer ward!”
“A Good Cancer To Have” is so funny. I know me rattling off all the stuff I just did makes it sound like the most unbearably painful show imaginable, but it is very, very funny. It takes aim at the absurdities of the medical system, of course, but also at the notion of this show existing at all. Because he was developing it during his cancer treatment. He was trying to write, to imagine, a happy ending two months ago when he had no guarantee of one. And he’s aware of just how weird that is, and he unpacks that, too.
“I cried in the cum room.”
Sam (and Leah) also screw with the conventions of theater in clever, playful ways - like ringing a bell when things get too heavy in order to send Sam scrambling to a journal full of rants and dumb jokes he accumulated during the same time period that have little or nothing to do with cancer, just to lighten things up. Or the use of projections at key moments when you need a picture or chart because words don’t do it justice. Or the use of colorful streamers, just to take the edge off. Or the use of paper to simulate snow from a person poking up over the back of the bulletin board on set in a Santa hat, to symbolize December, and continue to dump snow on Sam while he’s speaking until he has to stop and say “Ok, ok, that’s enough.” Or the use of a fake beard. Or the use of a puppet with a terrible British accent, and a corpse puppet.
“I’m 230. The same weight as a late lunch.”
This is, in a weird and completely unintentional way, a companion piece to last year’s Fringe show, because he may not be wearing a horse costume, but he’s still talking to the audience, and he’s still fighting for his life. Is cancer stand-up a genre of comedy? It must be, by now, in the 21st century, right? Laugh so you don’t cry.
“If you thought ‘Wow, that’s personal,’ you should leave.”
The other vein of honesty in the show that I appreciated was the willingness to be vulnerable, the willingness to be just a tiny bit sentimental, a shade more emotional than he might otherwise be comfortable with. You don’t see genuine love, or fear, or depression on stage all that often. The acknowledgement of mortality without the release of a quick joke immediately afterward. Sweere lets all these moments breathe. And there’s handful of surprises in the show that, just like with “Horse,” I’m not going to spoil because one of the many joys of this show is watching it unfold in all its many unexpected directions. (Also, a quick overdue nod to director Hannah Steblay as the outside eye on the project. And stage manager Marsh Kelly, because some of those surprises required a lot of coordination :) On stage, as in life, the Sweeres weren’t in this alone.)
“I’m an actor, so I’ll act. And I’m a writer so… words.”
Because, let’s be honest, we all think we know the trajectory of this show already. How it’s laid out, how it progresses, how it goes off on tangents that all tie back in at the end, how it concludes. And you’d be wrong. I was. Sam Sweere doesn’t do predictable. It’s not the way his brain works. It’s not the way he tells a story. It’s not the way he does theater.
“Two months ago, I auditioned for the role of ‘Guy With Cancer,” and I didn’t get it.”
Now, personally, I’m rooting for Sam to have the most boring, unexceptional year imaginable after this Fringe is over. No major life events, no life-threatening illnesses or accidents. He got married, he kicked cancer’s ass. I’d like him and Leah to just be able to enjoy married life now. And whatever Sam thought he was gonna do next, that wasn’t a show about cancer, I want him to get to do that. And whatever other weird ideas he has in that head of his. Because I really enjoy watching them. And trauma isn’t necessary for art. So I hope he gets a break.
“I’ve had a depression. Cancer depression is different. It’s like you’re used to vanilla and then one day they just dropped chocolate on me. The flavor was astoundingly different.”
Meantime, “A Good Cancer To Have” is a helluva a show. And you should see it. So you end up appreciating your own life even more than you already do. And get to see some really great theater while you’re at it.
5 stars - Very Highly Recommended
Here’s some handy links to coverage of 5 Star and 4.5 Star Shows I've Seen (VERY Highly Recommend), 4 Star and 3.5 Star Shows I've Seen (Highly Recommended), Other Shows I've Seen (3 Stars or Less), as well as my Fringe Top 10, Top 11 to 20 and Returning Favorites lists for this year, and all the coverage of this year’s Minnesota Fringe Festival.
As I’m sure many artists are, I find myself struggling with the idea of
just “taking time off” (what a luxury) and submerging myself in a whole
lot of theater for 11 days while the world is on fire so… I’m going to
put some phrases and links down here (and at the end of each post going
forward) and if you find yourself compelled to explore one or more of
them, so much the better. There’s a lot going on, and it can be easy to
get overwhelmed and tune out, but as Congresswoman Sarah McBride
recently said, “If everybody shows a little courage, nobody needs to be a
hero.” I freely admit this list and these links are hardly
exhaustive. It's just something to get started. Do what you can, where
you can, however you can. Let’s help one another get through this.
Contacting your elected officials about the issues that matter to you (and protesting as necessary)
Starvation in the Gaza Strip
Immigration raids around the United States
Ukraine fighting off invasion by Russia
Trans rights
Climate change action
Housing shortage and the unhoused
Reproductive Rights
Voting rights, and running for office
The courts, from the Supreme Court on down to the local level
Don’t forget to laugh - even gallows humor is still humor
No comments:
Post a Comment