Along with plays that make us feel seen, by acknowledging private truths of human existence we may have thought were ours alone, I love a play that shares experiences I’m never going to have. Either way they contribute to the undertsanding and empathy that is essential for the survival of humanity, and invariably – as with Morgana O’Reilly’s Stories About My Body – they are hugely entertaining.

It’s the sudden shock of revelatory insights and the odd surpising non sequitur that produce the biggest laughs. The expectations of a quiet ‘fireside chat’ – set up by a heartwarming slideshow of Morgana at various stages of childhood, projected behind a comfy armchair and sidetable with landline phone and pot plants – is hilariously subvertertd by a sudden change in imagery and Morgana’s entrance to an upbeat sountrack of ‘Good Vibrations’.

Only those who’ve noticed what was draped on the chair may have had an anticipatory inkling. She brings us back to equanimity by greeting us, and introducing herself and her show, in two official NZ languages simultaneously.

The promised Stories About My Body become a vehicle for the life experiences it, well, embodies in Morgana’s 37 years-old form. Her brain – i.e. the stories she has told herself over the years believing them to be the truth – plays a major role. Picking up where the slideshow leaves off, she takes us back to 1998 when she was 12 … then 13 … We can almost see and feel those hormones.

Morgana doesn’t just tell us what happened. As the recollections surface she almost imperceptibly becomes that age again; its a mercurial performance. Happily she now relates to her body as a friend while offering a surprising yet vividly on-point metaphor for her ‘emotional map’. Her interrogation of her innermost being, provoked by a sad emoji, is wondrously real. Then there’s the revelation of the female body’s ‘waiting room’ for sperm and her taking on the role of attentive  hostess …

The major events her body has experienced is bearing two children. The details Morgana shares about the changes that has caused are greeted with hoots of recognition from those who’ve been there and laughs of realisation from those who have not. But before she shares those life-changing moments, Morgana takes us back to her time in NYC and the extraordinary story of how she earned her airfare home by selling her feet and the unrelated but parallel experience of falling in love with the Kiwi guy destined to become her husband and father of their children.

And so to the births in 2015 and 2018, recollected with rivetting generosity and surprises we’ve come to expect (how oxymoronic is that?). Again, no spoilers except to say if you think you’ve seen all the births you need to on Call the Midwife, this will help you distinguish reality from make-believe.

Morgana O’Reilly is an exceptional performer on stage and screen. One of her many skills, in evidence here, is her ability to take us for a lively ride in a swirl of verbal eloquence then settle into near stillness with minimal ripples of physicality and a simple beingness that proves even more eloquent. Stories About My Body offers astonishing revelations into human experiences that are fundamental to our very existence: unique yet universal.

Copyright © belongs to the reviewer

As the full house sits waiting for the start of the show, we are shown projections of old home movies and photos from Morgana’s childhood. A bright-eyed innocent girl with a cheeky, inquisitive smile, playing in the family kitchen, tottering by the edge of a pool. It is the first indication that we are going to be invited to see deep into someone’s life.

We hear Morgana before we see her, in a panicked rush to make the curtain. She is in such a rush that she has not had time to dress, and when she bursts on to the stage she is naked from the waist up. It is funny, certainly, but it is also defines a contract between her and us, that we are participants who are being given the privilege of spending an hour with a brave, vulnerable, authentic and emotionally articulate woman who is going to bare everything, literally, to tell us her story.

As much as the title of the piece suggests this is about Morgana’s body, this is equally an exposition and exploration of her interior world. We hear the voice of her 13-year-old self from the diaries she kept in the 90’s. This the rawest, most painful part of the performance, bearing witness to the words of a young woman growing into her sexuality with a voice screaming in her head that she is “fat, fat, fat.” Where does that voice come from, why is it so loud, and so destructive? It is hard to hear and watch but Morgana holds us with perfectly timed moments of humour and then lifts us by sharing how she has learned, and is learning, to shut down the sabotaging voice by accepting and loving every part of herself.

As the performance nears its end, we are shown video of the birth of Morgana’s child while she remembers and recreates the moment for us. Her description of what she felt as she watched her child’s first breath is heart-wrenchingly beautiful. It seems so obvious to acknowledge and celebrate the extraordinary things our bodies are and what they do; host the joy and tumult of our inner lives, create and give life, give and receive pleasure.

Yet this essential message is constantly subverted by what we see and hear, and in that process, immense harm can be caused. Stories About My Body is profound and essential theatre performed with grace and great skill. Morgana’s bravery and generosity in sharing her story with such complete honesty is an immensely powerful way of showing us that by accepting and celebrating our bodies and ourselves, we can grow and find peace.

_______________________________

• Copyright © belongs to the reviewer

Copyright © belongs to the reviewer