From the moment you step into the room and see Emma Maye Gibson whirling on stage, Betty Grumble: Enemies of Grooviness Eat Shit gets the audience on side.
The entire performance, perhaps fittingly performed in a church, feels like a genuine spiritual experience, but one that is so radical and at times ludicrous that you might think it’s mocking, if Gibson wasn’t so wholly authentic about it. When she embarks on a grief cum and brings herself to sexual climax on stage, there a few titters in the audience, but the vast majority meet Gibson with the same raw honesty that brings. It’s an unusual but no less valuable moment of human connection that needs to be seen to be believed.
Rather than her nakedness and sexual acts feeling like gimmicks to pull in a crowd, the raw presentation of them make them feel not just a valuable part of the show, but a necessary one. Gibson bares all fearlessly and shares her confidence with the audience, donating some of her power to create a crackling energy throughout the room.
That’s not to say Gibson takes herself wholly seriously. She managed to be spiritual and irreverent at the same time, effortlessly flipping between a heartfelt performance of a rage-fuelled poem to making her vaginal lips speak to the audience while looking at use between her legs. That clash of moods sums up Betty Grumble: Enemies of Grooviness Eat Shit, a true blend of lewdness and meditation.
The different banners and tokens from various people and times of Gibson’s own life create a ritualistic atmosphere on stage. Incense is burned, chants are invocated, and there’s a hum of magic in the air. Whether spiritual, artistic, or both, something truly wonderful is being created.
Gibson constantly leaves the audience guessing at what comes next. One minute, she’s calling everyone to their feet and encouraging them to treat a dance like an ‘80s aerobics class, the next she’s pouring her past trauma from a domestic abuse legal case onto the stage. The matter is returned to at a slower pace later, but blending fun and trauma into one speaks to how confidently Gibson holds the audience in the palm of her hand.
Despite the sometimes-heavy topic matter, Betty Grumble: Enemies of Grooviness Eat Shit is proof that sorrow doesn’t need to be serious. Her performance is equal parts enthralling and disturbing, angry and peaceful. There are no clear answers – and there don’t need to be. The messiness of the show works perfectly as it is, naked slip and slide and all.
