Jack McGee
Joana Joy is interested in give and take. Having recently completed her studies in psychology and philosophy, she describes to us a fascination with culture. We are who we are because of our cultural backgrounds, she explains, yet we create our culture by contributing to it. Chicken and egg, give and take. Such is comedy. Joy presents us with a second dichotomy, this time audience and comedian. “It’s like sex”, she informs us “If one party is making way more noise than the other, it’s probably not going well.”
Joy is a courteous partner. She’s determined to make sure that both parties are having fun, that we’re sharing in the same “orgy of energy” or if you prefer the technical term, “en-orgy”. While delightfully manic, her crowd work is seamless and organic. She completely nails that stand-up-comedy magic trick of seeming “I-woke-up-like-this” genuine. She easily allows us to slip into the half-conscious assumption that we’re not watching a character, we’re having a chat with our “instant friend” Joana Joy.
Make no mistake, this is one of the most well thought out shows you’ll see in the comedy festival, Joy is a deliberate and specific writer. It’s another give and take, the meticulous sheen of well crafted performance and the organic authenticity of simply being in a room with somebody. She tests the limits of it throughout the show, sneaking in stories that deliberately push the boundaries of believability (an international quest for a meditation gong being a key example). The “we’re just having a yarn” illusion of standup comes under-fire when she slips into rhythmic, borderline stand-up poetry-esque flows (“I’m just trying to find the perfect GONG”, hits like a chorus), only to then hit you with an audience-specific callback, or a hyper-targeted-Wellington anecdote. We are the world’s sexiest raincoat wearers!
At its core, the show is about a specific give and take; the act of doing and the titular act of Standing Still (Still). Here’s the elevator pitch. Joy, who is a dancer, cabaret performer, surfer, professional chef, and proper multi-hyphenate, (Google reveals a near endless stream of different titles, including filmmaker, visual artist, and podcaster’), has had enough of being a compulsive do-er and is trying to slow down. She’s seen this not only within herself, but culturally, with the rise of the “grindset”. A believer that art and life reflect each other (give and take) she attests that by doing a show where she simply stands still, she may be able to find stillness in her own life. Ironically, this is some of the most movement I’ve ever seen onstage in a stand-up show. This conceit exists to be broken, it’s a manifesto to be hurtled towards with the shared acknowledgement that it’s unachievable.
Even when Joy succeeds at standing still, she exudes such an overwhelming-theatre-kid enthusiasm that she may as well be buzzing around Tapere Iti like a wonderfully sincere, good natured, insect. Words fly out of her mouth lightning fast and with life or death conviction. We have to strap ourselves in as an audience to keep up. She’ll set up an anecdote (first day of University, talking to 18 year olds about coffee), take us on a sociological/historical tangent (the history of “vocal fry”), loop in a sincere conclusion (we should speak with passion and care, apathy is evil), and then top it all off with an out of left field punchline (you girls like coffee? You should try crack!). Much like her calendar, she’s determined to stuff the show full with as many things as possible. She’s giving us three shows worth of material, we’re blessed that her craft and delivery is strong enough that it’s all not only legible but also resonant.
There’s humour to be found in the fact the only time Joy actually feels still, is when she’s dancing. At the top of the show, she hands an audience member in the front row (the remarkably well spoken Alice) an iPad. When picking up their tickets, audience members were given the opportunity to write down the name of a song and put it in a jar. These have wound up on a playlist in Alice’s hands, and she’s encouraged by Joy to play a song 3-5 times throughout the show, without warning. Whenever this happens, Joy pauses whatever train of thought she’s on, and bursts into dance. Throughout the evening we get Single Ladies, The Campfire Song Song, and even Ginuwine’s Pony (of Magic Mike fame). No matter the song, no matter the vibe, Joy has a remarkably well tailored dance waiting. They provide punctuation and give us a pause to breathe. It really seems like they give her that pause as well, maybe with the exception of the Campfire Song Song. I think there’s something to do with the physicality of dance here. Joy reacts so instantly, so decisively to the songs, that it feels like her body is taking over and all of the meticulously crafted, thousand words a minute, cerebral stuff can go to the back of the queue for a bit. It’s a necessary take.
While content to go on many an ironic or cynical tangent, Standing Still (Still) is an incredibly sincere show. It walks the fine line between heart on sleeve, open hearted communication, and feeling overly earnest and a tad condescending. After discussing her own relationship with meditation, Joy describes how people who meditate are always looking at you with this slight tinge of “I’m better than you.” She effectively expresses a healthy scepticism of how self-help culture intertwines with grindset culture. I overwhelmingly feel that Joy keeps the show weighted on the open hearted side of the line. This is perhaps most palpable in a moment near the end of the show where she straight-down-the-barrel eyeballs the audience and tells us what we want to hear, that we’re doing enough (an analysis of what that actually means is another highlight). The sincerity cuts through, and I find myself (undoubtedly alongside everyone around me) holding eye contact with her through quickly welling tears. That being said, it is a fine line, and when you take a swing for moments like this, you’re going to miss here and there. There’s definitely the occasional section where I bristle as we steer a little too close towards the dulcet affirmations of self- help.
Overall, I’m most compelled by the contradiction of Standing Still (Still). Joy acknowledges it herself, referencing the odd sensation of working hard to market a show that’s all about asking people to chill the hell out. The contrast goes even further than this - this is the least relaxed show about relaxing you will ever see. It’s in thinking back to its conception and Joy’s own admission that there’s an aspirational quality to the work, a desire for life to reflect art, that I feel the most seen. Joy yearns to be able to hit the couch and relax without guilt. Instead of doing this she locks the door to the lounge, sets up camp in the office and makes a beautiful work of art about that yearning. If she’s to be believed, the process worked - at least a little - and she’s getting better at chilling out. Maybe it’s had the same effect on viewers, maybe it hasn’t, and good for her and all of them but honestly to me that could not matter less. This is because if we remove all consideration of the end result from the equation we’re left with something bigger. We’re left with a beautiful articulation of the desire to change. I’ve never truly sat on my laurels and felt relaxed, satisfied, content - not deeply. Who has? But I know what it feels like to want that, to covet that, and it’s so deeply reassuring to watch art about this subject that so openly gives itself away.