‘It’s weird we don’t talk about it,” declares journalist Olive, the alter-ego of writer and performer Harriet Madeley. Sick of reporting on Love Island, she wants to write about something worthy of a Pulitzer prize: death. Specifically, our societal reluctance to broach the subject.
She visits a hospital to get the inside scoop from dying people. But she’s also having symptoms of her own and when she’s diagnosed with a rare illness, primary sclerosing cholangitis, things unravel.
Olive’s journey echoes Madeley’s – she’d been interviewing terminally ill people for a show about death when her diagnosis arrived – and there are fun intrusions from the real story, this self-awareness cutting through Olive’s self-absorption.
While Olive was ready to probe strangers about their mortality, she struggles to face her own. She pushes away supportive fiancée Tess, and starts partying, running and behaving increasingly recklessly.
It’s just Madeley on stage, but other characters appear as audio clips, Madeley seamlessly interacting with them in a sparky and charismatic performance. She’s in gym gear, a treadmill and exercise ball as props, and pointedly runs away from her feelings until she can’t run anymore.
This is all played for comic effect, Olive’s existential crisis spiralling into farce. Olive’s well drawn as a self-congratulatory young woman, blinded by her ego, but unable to get a handle on her feelings and how her inability to confront them is affecting those around her. There are plentiful solid punchlines – “It occurs to me that my early death could be not the worst thing for my career” – and a great pull-back-and-reveal when Olive’s left questioning her sanity.
The extreme comic escalation somewhat dulls the emotional resonance, a sense of jeopardy is missing. But the pace of the show, directed by Madelaine Moore, keeps us invested, the closing scenes imploring us to appreciate the love in our own lives.
At Park theatre, London, until 7 June.