Grumpy Old Women, May 8, 2007

Grumpy Old Women by Jenny Éclair and Judith Holder

Princess Theatre, Melbourne, May 8 to 20, 2007

Reviewer: Kate Herbert on May 8, 2007

An admission: I arrived grumpy at this show after an abominable day at work.

Then the publicist was nowhere to be found with a program, the foyer was too crowded and the street smokes fumes were wafting inside. Ready, set, go! Grumpy old woman in seat G31. Shared grumping certainly helped the mood by the end.

The live show, directed by Chris George, should not be compared with the more intimate, edited and personal TV interview version. This is a different animal, simultaneously glossy and shambolic. The stage design (Dora Schweitzer) is as garish as Jenny Éclair’s silly, frilly mini skirt.

Éclair is as wickedly outrageous as she is in her solo stand-up shows. Linda Robson’s cosy, earthy charm translates well to the stage, particularly as she is dressed a pink cotton nightie. Dillie Keane, the more posh-spoken, proper stage actress, has a velvety voice and impeccable timing.

The three women address the audience directly throughout, whining and complaining about – well, everything. They grump about twelve-year old supermarket managers and idiot shopgirls, helpless hubbies, stupid hobbies, dull dinner parties and fateful holidays.

Much of the humour comes from the impact of ageing and the dreadful state of their bodies as gravity takes its toll on bosoms and bums, making them invisible to young men and turning them into their mothers. The audience of mostly women huff, tut and groan in unison at every reference.

There are some significant comic highlights. The series of bizarre handy kitchen items found in the Innovations catalogue was a hit. How useful could a pair of glow-in-the–dark coasters be?

Eclair’s awkward full body massage experience, complete with unwanted gaseous eruptions, is riotous, as is Keane’s peri-menopausal home workout that finishes with attempting to uproot a tree. Éclair’s plans to snog (amongst other things) a geriatric in front of a group of fifteen year olds had the crowd hooting.

We can whinge all we like about everything, but ageing is no fun so we might as well laugh about the aches and pains, the drooping breasts, the need for early nights, the greying, plucking, dying and dressing up as lamb.

These women are really a delight - and the show got out at 9pm so I was home in time for a cuppa and an early night.

By Kate Herbert