Gurning. It’s a sport of which I’d never heard, but have been desperately interested in pursuing since seeing the new piece I’m Smiling Because I’m Uncomfortable last week.
As I learned, gurning involves competitively making faces — the ugliest face wins. It’s a strange thing to encounter in a piece focusing on some incredibly heavy subject matter: the work dives into the ferociously difficult conversations of disordered eating and abuse, peppered with levity provided by a sole performer, telling her own autobiographical tale. The whole dialogue takes place in a real kitchen, as audiences watch a meal get made. However, it makes sense; in this context, gurning is used to highlight the mentality made clear by the title of the work alone: sometimes, when we are in pain, we cover it up with our humor.
The subject in question is Emma Howard, a lovably peculiar person, who both celebrates and confronts her own self-described weirdness throughout I’m Smiling Because I’m Uncomfortable. Through a combination of Chaplin-esque physical comedy and decidedly well-written prose, Howard reveals her own struggles with body image, trauma, and sexuality, in the form of a winding monologue. It is apparent that the piece is well-rehearsed and extremely personal, as Howard hits each mark with precision and eloquence. Most impressively, she holds the attention of the audience in this fashion for the duration of the 60 minute presentation — which is, admittedly, no easy task. Her storytelling takes the form of a compelling tale told by a friend, highlighted by her simultaneous preparation of a meal, underscoring her trials with disordered eating. I was somehow captivated as she went about the most banal tasks of the kitchen, chopping vegetables and filling up a pan with oil. Perhaps the most effective moments in my eyes, whether intentional or not, were these, in which the home filled with the smells and sounds of cooking. I found myself craving food, in the midst of a conversation about binge eating and starvation. I wanted to share the meal with her, and, in certain ways, I did.
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Throughout the evening together, Howard touches on the full timeline of her life. We journey across liberal yet religious upbringings; the struggle to understand one’s own queerness; the sheer mortification of being a teen, or a child, or an adult. We are visited by snarky roommates, supportive yet befuddled adults, and a looming abuser, all at the hands of Howard’s own uncanny impersonations. We see her fight with food, quite literally, being drawn in and instantly repulsed by the snacks she’s brought with her, incorporated into the text like big exclamation points on her lowest lows. A palpable mix of sorrow and discomfort hangs in the air during these moments, emphasized by rare beats of silence. A sense of cautious community is fostered between audience members as this tension builds, all of us lounging in the apartment with her, as if we had just barged in on something extremely private.
Though certainly effective in its own right, presenting the piece in such an intimate and casual fashion is risky, mechanically speaking. Similar to the beloved Broken Bone Bathtub, I’m Smiling Because… faces the challenges of adapting an actual private home into its main stage, devoid of any smoke and mirrors that may conceal flaws. It shoves cast, crew, and audience all together right off the bat — a situation that might make members of all parties a little uneasy. It seemed this team struggled a bit with dead air bookending the actual piece, and the typical “sacred space” found in most immersive or site-specific projects seemed to be a little lacking. The transition into and out of the main event was also a bit clunky; unlike many other similar works, the environment of I’m Smiling Because… was perhaps a little too realistic.
All in all, however, it is hard to deny that the story I’m Smiling Because… is telling is an important one. It provided a shared sense of catharsis for both the creator and audience through its honesty and vulnerability. That being said, there is still much room for this piece to grow from a one-sided script into a dialogue between parties: one that involves its audiences on a more personal level, and leaves them with larger questions to ponder. In its fledgling stages, the discussion has just begun — but I feel optimistic about its potential in this team’s hands, Howard’s especially.
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I’m Smiling Because I’m Uncomfortable is playing September 15th-17th in kitchens across New York City. Addresses to be released to ticket holders 24 hours before performances. Tickets available here.
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