Nicola Brown’s Space Invaders is a stand-up show with a message. It seeks to educate the audience, as well as make them laugh. Similar to Hannah Gadsby’s (deservingly) lauded Nanette, it buries the lead. I have no idea going in that I’m going to learn a lot about Pelvic Organ Prolapse. Brown knows exactly what she’s doing, and it’s a joy to be along for the ride.
I hold a weathered scepticism of shows that are framed around spreading a message on a single issue. Here in Te Whanganui-a-tara in particular, there’s a real danger of preaching to the choir. More often than not, shows that are focussed around “thing good” or “thing bad” or “did you know about thing” aren’t actually challenging or educating local audiences. More importantly, I find this approach artistically limiting; these shows only scratch the surface of deeper, richer, conversations.
The great achievement of Space Invaders is that it is actually educational. Once it switches at the halfway point into delivering its message, it doesn’t lose anything. It’s not didactic, or shallow, and it is genuinely informative. A sizable chunk of the audience begin the hour unaware of Pelvic Organ Prolapse, and leave with a thorough understanding. Better yet, the audience members who have experience with the disorder meaningful validation. The most rewarding part of the show for me was watching an audience member at the back of the room nod emphatically for twenty minutes straight. I don’t know what was going through their head, but it seemed profound from the outside.
What is Pelvic Organ Prolapse? In short, it’s a disorder where organs (bladder, rectum, uterus) slip out of place. Notably, it affects 50% of people with a vagina by the time they’re 80. The disbelief I feel, shared with much of the audience, is astounding. How could we not have heard of this? Brown eloquently cuts through generations of stigma in her discussion of the subject. She aptly discusses the complexities of how Pelvic Organ Prolapse is diagnosed, and the medical community’s far from ideal approach to treating it. In around half an hour, she not only informs us of the specifics of the disorder, but has a rich discussion about both shame and healthcare. She does this with all sorts of visual aids, including crochet, in a manner that keeps the subject entertaining - and often funny - without ever distracting from the weight of the subject.
Brown is a proficient and well measured comedian. It’s unsurprising to discover that she is a clinical psychologist by trade, as she is an articulate speaker and relaxing presence. Her comedy walks an ever engaging line between mature observation and juvenile gags. It isn’t laugh-a-minute, and it’s all the better for it. I surprised myself the following evening when I realised I was still thinking about many of Brown’s jokes.
All else aside, it’s a thrill to see a comedy hour that feels this polished. The hour is thoroughly prepared, and Brown never resorts to laughing with the audience at her own flubs - she doesn’t make them in the first place. Space Invaders is a wonderfully assured, confident work, that breaks the “message-show-curse”. Brown’s mission is crucial, and executed with grace. I can say, without reservation, that some of the things I learned in this show will stick with me for the rest of my life.
The great achievement of Space Invaders is that it is actually educational. Once it switches at the halfway point into delivering its message, it doesn’t lose anything. It’s not didactic, or shallow, and it is genuinely informative. A sizable chunk of the audience begin the hour unaware of Pelvic Organ Prolapse, and leave with a thorough understanding. Better yet, the audience members who have experience with the disorder meaningful validation. The most rewarding part of the show for me was watching an audience member at the back of the room nod emphatically for twenty minutes straight. I don’t know what was going through their head, but it seemed profound from the outside.
What is Pelvic Organ Prolapse? In short, it’s a disorder where organs (bladder, rectum, uterus) slip out of place. Notably, it affects 50% of people with a vagina by the time they’re 80. The disbelief I feel, shared with much of the audience, is astounding. How could we not have heard of this? Brown eloquently cuts through generations of stigma in her discussion of the subject. She aptly discusses the complexities of how Pelvic Organ Prolapse is diagnosed, and the medical community’s far from ideal approach to treating it. In around half an hour, she not only informs us of the specifics of the disorder, but has a rich discussion about both shame and healthcare. She does this with all sorts of visual aids, including crochet, in a manner that keeps the subject entertaining - and often funny - without ever distracting from the weight of the subject.
Brown is a proficient and well measured comedian. It’s unsurprising to discover that she is a clinical psychologist by trade, as she is an articulate speaker and relaxing presence. Her comedy walks an ever engaging line between mature observation and juvenile gags. It isn’t laugh-a-minute, and it’s all the better for it. I surprised myself the following evening when I realised I was still thinking about many of Brown’s jokes.
All else aside, it’s a thrill to see a comedy hour that feels this polished. The hour is thoroughly prepared, and Brown never resorts to laughing with the audience at her own flubs - she doesn’t make them in the first place. Space Invaders is a wonderfully assured, confident work, that breaks the “message-show-curse”. Brown’s mission is crucial, and executed with grace. I can say, without reservation, that some of the things I learned in this show will stick with me for the rest of my life.