Review: Stacy Mayer: The Funeralogues
Louise Ridley
To the solemn strains of organ music, you walk into the Masonic lodge, take a pew and stare at the coffin. The hushed audience feels an odd mixture of reverence and anticipation – how’s comedy going to fit into this?
The answer is sitting amongst us in the form of Stacy Mayer, professional funeral crasher. In an interactive solo piece incorporating extracts from eulogies, she guides us through her lifelong obsession with the ritual of death, from her first Barbie funeral to a surreal ending twist.
The presence of a coffin makes the air thick with taboos, and laughter forbidden but powerful. American Mayer captures the direct humour of TV shows like Six Feet Under perfectly, confronting death and what it means to be remembered with unblinking perception.
There’s also a touch of Tina Fey in there as Mayer embodies other kooky characters she’s met along the way. They are amusing caricatures which make the adult Stacy seem that bit more neurotic, playing with character like her younger self plays with Barbie dolls.
Mayer’s child-like wonder is endearing, and creates an inquisitive show that is brave but never morose. In fact, it’s often moving, especially a striking description of the tiny routines used by a soldier to cope with telling families their loved-ones have died.
She’s strongest when improvising with the audience, and uses the site-specific nature of The Funeralogues to break down the barrier between viewers and performer by moving between us, making awkward but eager conversation. It’s a testament to her that we are surprisingly responsive to questions about if we’d considered what could be read at our own funeral.
The script isn’t perfect: transition between audience interaction and scripted episodes isn’t entirely smooth, and the odd anecdote rambles on and could be cut. But it’s one of the most innovative experiences I’ve had at the Fringe, with an impact that stays with you long after the service has finished.
4/5
Stacy Mayer: The Funeralogues is at C cubed until 31 August, 17:30.
Louise Ridley
Freelance journalist with Time Out London, The Scotsman and The Evening Standard
