Alia Marshall
Ōtautahi based comedian Jo Prendergast is once again gracing us with her presence in Pōneke with her brand new show Cancer and Cartwheels. During her treatment for breast cancer, Prendergast wrote this show as a means to make us laugh through the tough stuff, and lament on her once-great cartwheeling ability. Full of skits, songs, and some harsh truths, Cancer and Cartwheels is a hoot.
The Tapere Nui space in Te Auaha gradually fills up as ‘Eye of the Tiger’ plays, a battle hymn for the ages. The stage consists of a chair with an adorable little rug in front of it, a big projector flashing various images of Prendergast, and a desk. Opening the show with a musical number (‘I’m too Sexy for my Gown’) is a great way of setting up our expectations from the jump: despite the title, this show is meant to be fun.
Prendergast is a seasoned performer and a delight to watch. She blends stand up and skit-based physical comedy seamlessly, with the chair and rug I mentioned earlier serving as her ‘skit spot’ (that’s what I’ve called it because I like alliteration). I’ll admit, I am not the target audience for this show. I know that as soon as I walk in, and I’m reminded at every turn, though that’s far from a bad thing. Despite the fact that I’m not a certified cool mum or cancer survivor or approximately 50, I still find myself giggling away at jokes I half understand, and I even learn a thing or two! Do you know what vaginal atrophy is? Neither did I! Though she vows never to touch ‘vagina comedy’, I find this portion to be one of my favourite parts, the mental image of trying to move a vehicle with the power of pussy is still making me laugh today.
Cancer is one of those things that no one wants to talk about, and for good reason. I myself have a pretty intimate understanding of the impact of cancer, having lost my dad to the bastard last year (miss you ol’ man), so the moments where she reminds us what we’re really talking about are deeply poignant. Each time she brings up a harsh truth about the disease, I find myself reflecting on how little I actually know about it. At one point she discusses the weight loss that can come with cancer treatment, reiterating how important it is to never make comments about people’s bodies, no matter how well intentioned those comments are. I almost wish we could stay in these moments for just a bit longer, spending a little more time sitting with the discomfort of those feelings to feel the full impact of the punch.
Prendergast wraps up with a song titled ‘Warrior Princess’, written in collaboration with a friend of hers, that highlights the absurdity of having words like ‘warrior, strong, brave’ thrown at breast cancer survivors. She’s tired of having to act like a ‘warrior princess’ when in actuality she’s a pretty terrified woman dealing with a life threatening illness, and who can blame her? My dad felt the same when he was undergoing treatment, and I think it’s about time we start reframing the way we think about and treat people with cancer. There’s a moment where she admits this deep anxiety, and I reflect on all of the people I love who’ve fought this illness, wondering how frightening and difficult it must’ve been to put on a brave face for everyone around them. Though this show was on the lighter side, it left me with some heavy thoughts as I wandered home.
Finally, we get to see if she’s relinquished her cartwheeling ability, something she lost after getting the cancer removed. Cartwheeling feels on par with jumping for joy, you do it when your little lizard brain gets too excited, so I can imagine losing that ability was rough. But fear not dear reader, there are still cartwheels to be had.
Cancer and Cartwheels is an absolute delight; if Prendergast is a stable boy, then I am the gentle horse eating oats from his hand. Cancer is a dreaded beast that touches most people’s lives, but that doesn’t mean we should be afraid of laughing at it. Laughter, after all, is the best medicine (for legal reasons this is a joke).
Cancer and Cartwheels was on for one night only at Te Auaha on the Tapere Nui Stage.
Find out more here.
Prendergast is a seasoned performer and a delight to watch. She blends stand up and skit-based physical comedy seamlessly, with the chair and rug I mentioned earlier serving as her ‘skit spot’ (that’s what I’ve called it because I like alliteration). I’ll admit, I am not the target audience for this show. I know that as soon as I walk in, and I’m reminded at every turn, though that’s far from a bad thing. Despite the fact that I’m not a certified cool mum or cancer survivor or approximately 50, I still find myself giggling away at jokes I half understand, and I even learn a thing or two! Do you know what vaginal atrophy is? Neither did I! Though she vows never to touch ‘vagina comedy’, I find this portion to be one of my favourite parts, the mental image of trying to move a vehicle with the power of pussy is still making me laugh today.
Cancer is one of those things that no one wants to talk about, and for good reason. I myself have a pretty intimate understanding of the impact of cancer, having lost my dad to the bastard last year (miss you ol’ man), so the moments where she reminds us what we’re really talking about are deeply poignant. Each time she brings up a harsh truth about the disease, I find myself reflecting on how little I actually know about it. At one point she discusses the weight loss that can come with cancer treatment, reiterating how important it is to never make comments about people’s bodies, no matter how well intentioned those comments are. I almost wish we could stay in these moments for just a bit longer, spending a little more time sitting with the discomfort of those feelings to feel the full impact of the punch.
Prendergast wraps up with a song titled ‘Warrior Princess’, written in collaboration with a friend of hers, that highlights the absurdity of having words like ‘warrior, strong, brave’ thrown at breast cancer survivors. She’s tired of having to act like a ‘warrior princess’ when in actuality she’s a pretty terrified woman dealing with a life threatening illness, and who can blame her? My dad felt the same when he was undergoing treatment, and I think it’s about time we start reframing the way we think about and treat people with cancer. There’s a moment where she admits this deep anxiety, and I reflect on all of the people I love who’ve fought this illness, wondering how frightening and difficult it must’ve been to put on a brave face for everyone around them. Though this show was on the lighter side, it left me with some heavy thoughts as I wandered home.
Finally, we get to see if she’s relinquished her cartwheeling ability, something she lost after getting the cancer removed. Cartwheeling feels on par with jumping for joy, you do it when your little lizard brain gets too excited, so I can imagine losing that ability was rough. But fear not dear reader, there are still cartwheels to be had.
Cancer and Cartwheels is an absolute delight; if Prendergast is a stable boy, then I am the gentle horse eating oats from his hand. Cancer is a dreaded beast that touches most people’s lives, but that doesn’t mean we should be afraid of laughing at it. Laughter, after all, is the best medicine (for legal reasons this is a joke).
Cancer and Cartwheels was on for one night only at Te Auaha on the Tapere Nui Stage.
Find out more here.