By Jennifer Beasley.
Roller skating through debilitating pain touches creative depths in this inspired one-woman show that delves into death, existential crisis, luck – and hope.
Andi Snelling has created an interesting one act and one-woman 80-minute play based upon her experiences with Lyme Disease.
The disease, carried by ticks infected with the bacterium Borrelia burgdorferi, and transferred into humans when they are bitten, has a whole host of very nasty symptoms, and normally, not a laughing matter. However, Snelling uses her comedic talents, as well as exceptional physicality, mine and voice, to present what I would describe as a deconstructed play, focusing more on the themes of the profound effect a near-death experience can have on your outlook and ability to embrace life.
Using the conceit of a French angel as a narrator, named Lucky (Snelling), who roller skates in with an aviator cap and goggles, we get the low down on Snelling’s impending fate and humanity’s fascination with pain.
This set up took some time, and I’m afraid it lost my companion, who observed that there were a few soft spots throughout the production with scene changes and timelines. However, this production did evolve from Fringe Theatre five years ago, and the new improved me was able to sit through the quieter moments, especially at the beginning where Snelling (as herself), sits on a chair and dances to Gaetoan Pesce (Pierre Lapointe) before launching herself, rushing on rolls of spent paper, a nod to the treadmill of life. This sets up a nice counterpoint to the ‘happy-go-lucky’ Snelling, oblivious to her life and the gifts of good health, against the ‘happy-go-wrong’ Snelling, a shrivelled, pain drenched, psychotic mess (wonderfully presented by another alter-ego, the Garbage Bag Girl).
The clarion call from Lucky (a nice touch using a paper trumpet) signals the turnaround for Snelling, wrapped in layers of brown paper, medically gaslighted by doctors, carrying around the costume of illness like a coat of honour, wrapped up in the accompaniments of disease. Snelling then sings A Capella, ‘I am alive’ as she starts her to return to the world of the living. A surprisingly moving performance and yet another amazing skill of this performer.
If you are looking for answers as to how Snelling overcame debilitating pain, you won’t find it here. Which is unfortunate because I desperately wanted to know how she evolved from this creature crawling on the floor, joints so sore she couldn’t even get into a chair, and her mind and thoughts highjacked and fractured, into a performer so in command of her body that she exerts a charismatic power over the audience, breaking the fourth wall with ease and confidence. So much confidence in fact that she lays bare her vulnerabilities, naked before us (and still roller skating!), during the final ten minutes, as a statement to celebrate life, and the art of being alive.
This is well worth the ticket to see this performance, mainly to remind ourselves that yes, we all suffer. However, it isn’t luck that gets you through these traumatic events. It’s Hope. Hoping it’s going to get better. Hoping that one day, somehow, you’ll be able to manage. You just have to hold on. Tight.
Image: Cinnamon Smtih
