Most of us remember our early teenage years with a mixture of mortification and despair, but then again, most of us don’t have the ability to translate our stories into devilishly droll sagas. Helen O’Brien’s one-woman show about a formative, unforgettable weekend in the life of a young teenager is intelligent, amusing and endearing.
Bronagh Quinn has a memorable weekend ahead of her; she’ll compete in an Irish dancing competition, have her first forays into romance and witness the wedding from hell. Helen O’Brien’s brilliant comic creation leads the audience on a nostalgic journey back to 1987, taking in eighties pop, the madness of the professional ceilidh circuit and her uniquely batty family.
It’s unclear just how much of Bronagh comes directly from O’Brien herself, and how much of her story is based on the reality of her Oldham upbringing, but from her heartfelt and endearing delivery, I’d be surprised if it wasn’t a majority. She’s an intriguing and involving storyteller and Bronagh’s tale of first kisses and first drinks comes across as if it were truly her own.
Big Weekend is closer to a comedic theatre piece than a stand-up or comic act, but O’Brien is such a good narrator that her skilful writing translates into a gripping and amusing stage performance. O’Brien’s measured delivery is such that she relies on a slow, climactic build-up for her jokes, but her comic timing is pinpoint accurate, and her surgical wit is deployed with real precision. Her comedy is honest and cathartic and her punchlines, albeit used in a sparing fashion, receive big belly laughs from the audience.
It’s not often that a show at the Fringe combines Irish dancing, tampon jokes and coming-of-age stories in such a smart and funny manner, but Bronagh’s Big Weekend does so in a wickedly amusing way.
