Oh my Irma @ Hill Street Theatre

Solo performances are doing rather well at this year’s Fringe, with Grounded and Captain Amazing both pulling in large audiences. Canadian Haley McGee’s self-penned monologue continues this high standard of one-person shows. McGee stars as a shambolic-looking woman of ambiguous age, although, by her naïve defiance, it could be presumed she’s fairly young. She regales a tale of trying to track down 'her Irma', an account that, with every sentence uttered, grows equally in absorption and ridiculousness.

McGee is a gripping performer – with only herself and a shabby suitcase she inhabits every corner of the stage. Alisa Palmer’s direction makes captivating use of the otherwise empty space, having McGee prone on the floor, tip-toeing on her baggage and practically every position in between. Although the physicalisation is indeed a big draw, the production's overriding compulsion is McGee's tender yet humourous, absurd yet relatable and always enthralling text. At times the language wafts with a melodic lyricism, emulating the beat poems she mimics. However there are instances when her words teeter on the verge of traumatic, the imagery unsettling and discomforting, conjuring up vivid depictions of self-harm. McGee relaxes you into the show, the opening is light-hearted and funny but as it reaches its climax its true colours become apparent. Not only are we reminded of the painfully scarring effects of cutting, but through McGee’s idiosyncratic character, we’re shown how it can damage those close to a transgressor. This is a disturbingly powerful production by a hugely talented writer and performer.