Kate Mock Elliott opens her one-woman show with chipper Christmas letter. It’s full of those cherry-picked news items we’ve all read, anecdotes and reports about events and accomplishments of the past year. She’s washed in a warm red light and coyly poses in a Vanna White posture to extol the great things moments she and her new husband have experienced.
But when the lighting brightens, she offers a series of candid post-scripts, footnotes to her cheery claims that are funny and frank about what’s really transpired, especially in the realm of sex — a topic certainly not a customary subject of these letters. Her motive is attention-getting entertainment, to be sure, but there’s an underlying message about the need for clear, honest communication regarding matters common to most everyone — but seldom discussed privately, and almost never publicly.
Elliott is a 32-year-old mother of two with a devoted, loving husband, so there’s no question that she’s had sex. But she quickly lets the audience know that her education in that arena — full of euphemism and propriety — was distinctly unhelpful in giving her a full enjoyment of the physical experience.
Her monologue is cleverly structured, divided into a year-by-year chronology of her “seXmas cards” and their appended explications and commentaries documenting her voyage from sexual ignorance to satisfaction. She’s extremely candid and explains that she’ll be using language both crude and clinical to make her point. But we’ll be alerted: She’ll illuminate (with a foot switch) a pair of miniature Christmas trees, her only onstage decorations, every time she uses a word or term that might make people cringe. It’s sort of the reverse of being bleeped, more like underlining and punctuating with extra exclamation points. She uses this prop with great humor.
Elliott also employs a metaphor that at first seems forced: Surveying and loading up items from a long restaurant buffet. By the time one approaches the far end where chocolate-laden cake awaits, it’s overwhelming. Just to be clear she says, “I’m not actually talking about chocolate cake.” She returns to this trope more than once — and it’s funnier each time.
Truth to tell, she’s bemoaning the fact that she went on for far too long without understanding female orgasm. She describes a few unsatisfying teenage experiences and hilariously recalls sex education videos featuring Patricia F. Miller (and a coffee mug) that she witnessed at her Catholic high school. She also delves into awkward marital excursions she and her husband had as they tried to navigate a path toward satisfaction.
Elliott is an experienced actress, so she has stage presence and confidence that translate into a performance that connects. She’s discerned what’s laugh-inducing while being able to turn it to something more meaningful: As she repeats after each upbeat pseudo-letter, “What I really mean is” that women and men need to get comfortable with uncomfortable conversations … all year round, without garland and tinsel.
The Cincinnati Fringe Festival runs through June 15. Find showtimes, tickets and more info here. Check out more reviews from our CityBeat team here.
This article appears in May 29 – Jun 5, 2019.
