I’ll be honest, having an invisible, chronic disability sucks, but ask me a question about it, and I’m usually more than happy to tell you all about it. But, there’s something about discussing mental health that still holds a stigma for me. That discussion stays within my close circle, and that’s part of what Shitbag talks about.
After seeing Shitbag, I can confirm that Hayley Edwards is a born performer, with a comedic timing that comedians who have been working as long as Edwards or older, don’t have. If you don’t know much about Crohn’s Disease, Shitbag will give you all the information you need, not shying away from all the stinky, poopy details that are a reality of life with Crohn’s. You won’t just get stories about shit, and the possibility of a colostomy bag. Some stories are honest and horny, and some are heartbreaking in their sincerity, putting everything out there for the world in a solo performance. Edwards’ vulnerability isn’t just in their stories; it’s something that their costuming and props amplify.
The stage is bare, aside from an over toilet aid which is sometimes used to assist people with toileting needs, something that anyone who’s been to a hospital might have spotted looming in the corner. Edwards’ costuming will go from regular clothing to cloaking themselves in a hospital gown, a garment that can make you feel more vulnerable than being naked. Edwards uses the toilet aid throughout, sitting when being candid about their health struggles and then using it as a prop to enhance the retelling of sexual encounters. A visual joke that went down particularly well with the crowd was using the toilet seat as a phone, once to talk to their mum and then to their psychiatrist.
Some stories might not be for the faint-hearted, but the audience is exposed to every exploit. You’ll hear about threesomes, fivesomes and ludicrous sex positions. The level of honesty given to the sexy and fun parts is the same for the crashing lows. Lows like the pain of your gender being misunderstood, a body that has betrayed you physically, and partners making unsolicited comments about your body, that make dysmorphia worse.
When Edward opens up completely with no humour to hide behind, while wearing a hospital gown, the pain they’re feeling is palpable. The despair Edward lets us see is impeccably timed, never letting it linger in the room for too long, then easily changing the mood with a wide grin or a quip. The delivery of every line felt completely natural, I didn’t feel like I was watching a performer on a stage. Instead, it felt like I was at a friend’s house, catching up after we hadn’t seen each other for a month. That’s why you will be easily transfixed during Shitbag. Edward wants to entertain you, even if they have to tell you about every poop and sexual experience they’ve had.
There’s still so much stigma in the world when it comes to talking about invisible illnesses and how they can devastate someone’s mental health. Shitbag might genuinely be a vehicle to start a more comfortable discussion in public spheres about these illnesses. Hayley Edwards is a phenomenal writer and Shitbag proves that cynical satire can so often go wrong, but it has been balanced so perfectly here that it never becomes dismal.
There will be a time when Hayley Edwards inevitably performs Shitbag in a larger venue. The connection they can make to the audience then will be as powerful in a room 200 as it was in a room of 30.
Hayley Edwards’ Shitbag is currently playing at the Festival Hub: Trades Hall – Evatt Room until October 13th as part of 2024 Melbourne Fringe.
For more information and ticketing, visit:
https://melbournefringe.com.au/event/shitbag
https://www.instagram.com/hayley.jemma