Interludes

THE HANGOVER REPORT – In KATE, comedienne Kate Berlant savagely pokes at (and deflates) the notions of performance, identity, and theater

• By drediman
• October 5, 2022
• No Comments

This past weekend, I finally had a chance to catch up with Kate Berlant’s latest rabbit hole of a show Kate at the cozy Connolly Theater in the East Village (the show began performances back in August, and it closes this weekend). On the surface, Kate would seem like your typical one person theatrical confessional. Yes, Ms. Berlant digs deep, but not into her own life’s story, as you’re led to believe. Her ambitious excavations take place elsewhere.

You see, Kate is a manifesto of sorts, in which our trickster of a host savagely pokes at and deflates the concepts of theater, performance, and ultimately identity. By taking down these foundational notions, the fiercely intellectual comic would seem to be on tenuous footing. What use is meaning, after all, when the rug has been pulled entirely from beneath you? The risk pays off, however. Over the course of the dizzyingly disorienting evening, she profoundly prods us to reconsider, often at the hilarious expense of her fictional self (does a “real self” even exist at all?; such are the mind games played), the very fabric of reality, thereby giving rise to the exciting possibility for new forms. In its final stretch, the show’s running joke (no spoilers here, except that tears are involved) literally and existentially comes into focus — and the experience is simultaneously ridiculous, sad, and funny.

Directed with funhouse glee by Bo Burnham, the whole thing is packaged sleekly in a highly polished production that’s as nimble as Ms. Berlant herself (kudos to the work of set designer Dots and lighting designer Amith Chandrashaker, whose contributions extend all the way to the theater lobby). Throughout, Ms. Berlant — ever the thinking person’s comedienne — dazzles in a chameleonic performance with more layers than an onion.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

KATE
Off-Broadway, Play
Connelly Theater
1 hour, 30 minutes (without an intermission)
Through October 8