Demolishing the convention of starting soft and low and building to a crescendo, this play starts with a comically melodramatic moment, which then turns out to be a re-enactment of an audition from some years ago. Valery Reva was then told, if she were to get the part, she would have to shave her hair off (or get someone to do it for her) in line with the look of the character in question. The thought of losing her “long, gorgeous, sexy hair” was difficult to come to terms with, a situation that would repeat itself when she ended up with a cancer diagnosis.
In what turned out to be an utterly hilarious dark comedy, Valery’s journey sheds light on quite how broken Britain has become, but without launching into an angry rant. An NHS dentist is hard to come by, and as for private treatment, “a toothache is an expensive as a mortgage”, so it worked out cheaper to fly to Ukraine and see a dentist there: it was also an opportunity to meet family and friends in her country of origin.
The show provides incredible amounts of attention to detail without feeling pedantic or oversentimental, giving the audience a comprehensive view on how it came to be that Valery survived cancer. One might, for instance, be tempted to tell all on social media about one’s diagnosis. A fellow reviewer (for a different publication) who died a few years ago only did that once he was absolutely, definitely, irrevocably terminal: to have done so before would, he thought, have resulted in all sorts of messages of sympathy which he didn’t want. Valery had her own list of people not to tell, including religious friends who might attempt to convert her to something or other lest she pass into the afterlife and into the eternal conscious torment of the damned (or whatever it is they believe), and those who are liable to respond with a story of someone they knew who died from cancer. No thanks.
A subplot tells a dark children’s story involving a witch. The child central character must embark on “a journey filed with dangers and uncertainties”, and it hardly takes a genius to work out who the character is, and indeed what the witch represents. Then there is the war in Ukraine – and while there is some inevitable disruption to daily living, the general population (that is, everyone who hasn’t evacuated) is stoically getting on with things as best they can. The three stories – Valery’s cancer, the witch who must be defeated, and the impact of war – gradually intersect in what becomes an intricate and complex web. It’s reflective, I think, of real life, in the sense that there are usually multiple things going on simultaneously, and it’s difficult if not impossible to separate or compartmentalise them.
The show is sometimes very physical, with outbursts of frenetic activity, and while there are plenty of lighting cues to keep the theatre technician busy, Valery also deploys the use of a torch not only for the time-honoured fashion in which ‘scary’ stories are told in the dark but also to achieve silhouetted projections. It’s all very cleverly done, and just when the realms of fantasy are about to send the audience into a feelgood frenzy, the reality of life comes back to the fore. Forthright and gritty, this is a bold and refreshingly honest production.
Review by Chris Omaweng
At Least I’m Not Bald is a one-woman show created by writer/performer Valery Reva. This show will be her second piece (following the 4-star show in|Secure) and will revolve around the ‘big C’, this terrifying letter we all dread to hear. Valery, a survivor of cancer herself, will be pulling from her own lived experiences and other testimonials as a balm to soothe, titillate and maybe even giggle with those struggling to live with cancer’s consequences.
Her experience with the dreaded disease came at quite the surprise when she visited her war torn homeland Ukraine – one blood test later and it turned out she had a tumour on her thyroid that needed immediate attention. Cancer can happen to anyone at any time and it provoked the author to question how life could go on given it can change in an instance. This work is an enquiry into how we keep calm and carryon when death is pulling at your heartstrings, threatening your very existence.
Using comedy and black humour as her vehicle Valery will be exploring the depths of despair and the little moments in-between that make life worth living, no matter what.
Writer and performer: Valery Reva
Director: Kapil Redekar
AT LEAST I’M NOT BALD
Lion & Unicorn Theatre, 14 July 2024
Edinburgh Festival Fringe, 31 July to 11 August 2024
