Jen Kirkman lays claim to notable TV credits, an award-winning web series, a New York Times best-seller and a hit podcast. Basically, she’s done alright. If she somehow hasn’t won over Melbourne audiences already, though, her show I’m Gonna Die Alone (And I Feel Fine) ought to make up the difference.
There’s a very specific manner of control about Kirkman’s approach, the kind that requires some patience between explosive quips. Her show isn’t an exhibition of instant-gratification comedy: it’s a more immersive experience and, to Kirkman’s credit, crafted to a tee. She takes care of the necessary groundwork from the outset, offering insight into her personality (as well as her world) and sharing philosophies that filter through her experiences. She paints a portrait for her audience and generally endears herself in the process. The show lives and dies by understanding Kirkman as well as possible inside an hour and, pleasingly, she communicates herself incredibly well.
An accomplished storyteller, Kirkman will have you hooked immediately as she attempts to make sense of an apparently dubious milestone (turning 40), misguided gestures and the surprising silver linings of divorce. Kirkman, unashamedly herself, possesses a commanding presence, her confidence and conviction automatically engaging.
Her delivery is an obvious strength, too. Great comedy often boasts seamless architecture, its make-up wonderfully subtle. Pleasingly, this show bears those hallmarks. It’s difficult to imagine Kirkman diligently studying notes and rehearsing for hours on end – rather, when you’re watching her, it seems much more likely that she is simply riffing on the things that matter to her. Just as you don’t see the mechanics of a magic trick, Kirkman’s comedy appears seamless.
You won’t be slapping your knee or holding your sides every second, but Kirkman deals in a different kind of comedy. You could even argue it’s more rewarding: the journeys are longer, but the destinations are definitely worth it.
BY NICK MASON
