Written by Piers Black and directed by Bryony Shanahan, I’m Not Being Funny tells the story of married couple Billie and Peter’s relationship over the course of one evening while testing out stand-up comedy material. What starts as a high energy comedy slowly turns into something much deeper and more complex, culminating in an emotionally charged final scene that will have you smiling and crying all at once.
After what feels like an eternal loop of NSYNC’s Bye Bye Bye blasting from a microphone box speaker, Peter shuffles onto the stage – aka, his living room – settling straight into stand-up mode. He attempts to warm the audience with his comedy, throwing out generic jokes about spiders and their legs, and walnuts being hard nuts to crack. You want to laugh out of pity, almost, as it becomes apparent that this comedy is masking something deeper, but Peter doesn’t give too much away too soon. Moments later, his wife Billie arrives home and the two frantically prepare a tight five-minute stand-up comedy routine, to be performed to friends and family the following evening – with the baby monitor for their daughter Ruby their sole witness and critic for the night.
Billie wants to lean on her personal experiences for her comedy material, but Peter isn’t so keen. He is apprehensive and anxious about the prospect of his life being divulged for the sake of some laughs, whereas Billie – who is full of life – is excited and encourages this. Despite their affection, cracks soon begin to surface as underlying tension steadily builds. The source of their tension remains unspoken, gradually revealing itself over the 90-minute play through small disagreements here and a difference of opinion there.
The format of this play is unique, with the characters gradually unravelling their shared history and teasing out their trauma through the guise of stand-up material. The Bush Theatre audience becomes an integral part of this dynamic, almost acting as Billie and Peter’s sounding board for their material. It becomes clear quite early on that we are not only here to watch a play, but to shape their material. Whereas other audience members were clearly on board quite quickly, admittedly, it took me a little bit of time to fully warm to this production, but it’s a slow-burn that’s worth the wait.
Tia Bannon gives a mesmerising performance as Billie, a young woman, mother and wife with a lust for life. Jerome Yates is her perfect match in his portrayal of Peter, a slightly stiff character who can’t seem to muster the strength to follow that same lust. Bannon and Yates have an undeniable stage chemistry, and both really complement each other. Bannon in particular has incredibly theatrical mannerisms which proves hilarious when she and Yates’ Peter are acting out their teenage years: meeting each other for the first time when Billie has tuna salad in her hair; their first kiss at the school disco under the watchful eye of 40-year-old Steve, dancing to Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On. Reliving these years works brilliantly to showcase Bannon and Yates’ ability to be delightfully playful, childlike and carefree; a far cry from the more serious, tender and mature moments that appear later in the play, demonstrating their remarkable range.
This play uses flashbacks as well as present day dialogue to slowly reveal Billie and Peter’s story. Some of the initial flashbacks are quite abrupt and it’s not immediately obvious how the scenes support the story. However, as the play unfolds and we learn the true source of their tension and desperation to succeed, the remaining flashbacks offer context to the play that feels incredibly powerful in defining Billie and Peter’s past, present and future.
Black’s writing is a delicious concoction of humour, wit, heart, emotion and intensity. The writing is upheld by the excellent performances that are playful, amusing, reflective, compelling and full of soul. The production is tied together by the music and lighting that work perfectly to emphasise those tender moments and those more serious ones. Unless you’re utterly heartless, you’ll laugh and you’ll cry, and you’ll probably want to go and hug your mum/daughter/parent/child for a little while after.
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