If you missed this show, I feel sorry for you.
On a muggy ass Valentine’s evening, Maeve O’Connell brings her solo stand-up show, Prophecy Girl, an hour-long special that thrives on lashings of energy and laser-precise wit. The Fringe Bar is bouncing with anticipation long before the show starts. The crowd seems to predominantly be people who know her personally, but that doesn’t stop the energy from infecting me with hype. To be honest, I’ve been excited for this show ever since I received the request for it which, for me at least, is abnormal af.
To give you context, I need to preface this with a message I received from her when I accepted her review request:
That’s insane of her. When I read that, I knew this was either going to be a masterpiece or a biblical disaster. Having returned from the show in one piece, it’s safe to say Prophecy Girl is a triumph.
Prophecy Girl is billed as a ‘stand-up’ show, although as we’ll soon find, it’s far from your ordinary Mike with a mic. She’s got a neat powerpoint presentation lined up, as is becoming trendy in an increasingly digital age of comedy, and a laptop front and centre. Her comedy is heavily referential, and she’s taken great care to only showcase things that most people are familiar with, or at the very least, can understand within a millisecond. Beyond that, she unloads prop after prop, culminating in a massive set piece that reminds us all that the root of comedy is to have fun.
Of course, all of that would be impossible without a skilled performer to guide us through the chaos. O’Connell‘s brand of charisma is unique and charming, stumbling onto the stage with the frantic energy of a solo tech, rather than a diva in the spotlight. The audience cheers at her entrance, but she quickly dispels it with a mention that the tech part is actually really hard and she just needs a moment of quiet to focus on getting it right. The message is clear; she’s not in this for the applause, she’s in it to execute a vision.
It’s such a great way to disarm the audience. By establishing a very valid problem and then succeeding at it in full view of the audience is so perfect for getting every single person in the room on her side from the get-go. From that point onward, we’re all in. Her audience participation moments are stifled by the fact that responders are giggling through their answers. She’s got us at ease, unsure of what the future holds, but utterly obsessed with the prophecies she’ll unveil.
O’Connell never wavers on that trust. Her show is predicated on the fact that she has complete knowledge of everything unfolding, and includes material that would have been impossible to write more than a week ago, and yet here it is, fully realised in a live environment. Veteran comics will refine and test their material for years and never get close to the precision of some of the jokes O’Connell pulls out.
That’s her greatest strength. She just has an impeccably insightful finger on the pulse, and her natural talent for finding comedy in mundanity is astonishing. Most of her opening jokes are meta-commentaries on the development of the show itself, further pushing the illusion that everything had been planned from the moment she registered the show with the festival in October. Jokes are consistently relevant and are the perfect product of their time. That takes an insane amount of skill that’s frankly rarely tapped into in Wellington.
The whole show, as a result, perfectly encapsulates a sense of play that keeps the audience in a perpetual state of giddiness. O’Connell does such a good job engaging the audience and making them feel like they’re allowed into the playground. Even when she struggles with tech, she takes it on with a joviality that reminds us it’s okay for the slides to go a little wonky, that there’s no perfect place to position a prop, that there’s no smile without a little bit of cheek. She’s up there having as much fun as the rest of us, and we’re all game to keep laughing.
It also helps that she’s game to fan out a little bit, discipline-wise. There’s plenty of great stand-up anecdotes here, but they’re complemented by sprinkles of crowdwork, dashes of prop comedy and most importantly, a willingness to show the seams. It’s a phenomenally sneaky move, but in showing the audience the craft-y parts of her presentation, she offers us a glimpse into how much work she’s actually put into this show. It’s not just the performance elements she’s great at, she’s put that same amount of effort into the entirety of the show. A package that’s completely her.
And that’s what makes the show so fantastic.
It’s authentic, like, in the truest sense. Speaking to Mog Connolly after the show, I was informed that, yeah, ‘Maeve’s just like that’. Between that and the message I received from her, I believe it. Her comedy feels effortless because she’s just up there being herself. Everyone loves her for that. She’s a fresh, unique, locked-in voice in a stand-up scene that’s currently dominated by thirty-somethings struggling to find their footing (it’s me, hi, i’m the thirty-something still struggling to find my footing). If this is the next generation of comedy, it’s in good fucking hands. I’m pretty sure she’s eligible for Raw Quest this year, and if she is, she’s going to win it. I’m calling it now.
Prophecy Girl is the kind of show that has such a clear vision, and executes on it with absolute precision. It’s a constant two-way stream of laughter and wit, with a truly authentic performer who loves what she’s doing. Between the excellent planning and unwavering commitment to authenticity, Maeve O’Connell had me howling and crying with laughter at her just being herself. She’s an excellent treat to watch and I cannot wait to see how her comedy develops from here on out.
Cos this girl knows how to clock a gag.
Disclosure: As a somewhat active member of the Wellington performing arts community, I may be quite familiar with a number of the performers in this show. Having said that, I am not a liar, and there is zero bias in my reviews, shut up.
Also, tickets were provided to me for free by the production. Literally changes nothing, though