Review of ‘Old Fat F**k Up’: “Masculinity solo act exhibits a big endowment but struggles to keep it up”

Riverside Studios hosts the London premiere of Olly Hawes’s one-man show exploring the struggles of a desperate millennial father. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show to let us know if its tumultuous narrative has any flaws other than daddy issues.

This is not a true story. Much like Baby Reindeer, its author dreams of a similar future with a 6-part Netflix adaptation and option for subsequent seasons. He says so several times throughout the show — perhaps, too many. But contrary to Richard Gadd’s uncomfortably gripping story of sexual abuse with a male figure as the victim, playwright and performer Olly Hawes is covering his back against any potential 180-million-dollar lawsuits from a deranged lady and her opportunist, money-thirsty American lawyer, which, for legal purposes, I’ll say that scenario is a completely fabricated idea from my hyperactive creative mind.

He wouldn’t need to fret too much about it, though. There’s hardly any naming other than himself and his allegedly poo-smelling breath (quoting one of his children). Suffice it to say that life is not going great for his character. Low-paying job, two young kids and a wife to provide for, and a mortgage he can’t face unless his parents help him — again. It’s the perfect storm waiting to snap at any moment. And snap, he will. Although what will actually cause the commotion is probably the least triggering thing he’s dealt with recently, and it won’t take long until he’s overwhelmed by regret for repeatedly hitting his little one.

We’re warned from the beginning that this is no stand-up comedy. Sure, there are no sets, audiences are seated in the round, and the only pieces of scenery are a high stool and a long-wire microphone. But there’s just as much as you can laugh with this work. It’s partially intentional (some of the jokes aren’t that funny). Yet, the script brims with poignancy, whose surprising strength is only surpassed by how quickly it materialises.

There’s no doubt about Hawes’s compelling narrative skills, both as a writer and as an actor. He defends the part he’s created for himself with commanding authority. His ability to own the space is truly electrifying — he flaunts presence, magnetism, and conveys a sense of intimacy that accentuates the truthfulness of the story and its connection with the viewer. Many times, he would remind us that none of what he’s saying really happened, and it wouldn’t come across as redundant c it is that credible.

The text establishes a robust premise. And for the first half, it honours it vastly. Its exploration of the societal issues imposed primarily on men resonates amply and swiftly. Anyone can relate to this working-class man’s plight, even if their situation is miles away from his. The problem arises throughout the plot’s third act, when the recount adopts a more exaggerated tone that puts its previous accomplishments at stake — crossing the line of the cliche more than desired (if it’s ever desired) and failing to provide us with a full-fledged, satisfactory conclusion.

Simultaneously, a mild feeling of shallowness lingers throughout. Although the play delivers an engaging portrayal of the ‘everyman’ archetype, his journey is somehow incomplete. We know his struggles. We can understand his motivations. And even more, his frustrations. Yet none of those elements is exploited to its full potential, let alone effectiveness. Consequently, we can feel sorry for what he’s going through. We can also understand how he’s got to where he is now. However, we won’t see ourselves rooting for him as much as we’d expect — if we ever do. And that’s because that last stroke of depth sets up a barrier we just can’t climb.

There are many things to praise about Old Fat F**k Up. The title is clearly not one of them, though. But despite its unfortunate name, the play parts from a stirring germinal idea. And for the most part, it’s blossomed into a thought-provoking and enjoyable ride. Some amendments must be made. Possibly, more than a few. Nonetheless, the genuineness and resilience  that pulsate throughout demonstrate the piece’s intentions to carry on with something that, ultimately, should be good and worthy. And that’s what fatherhood is all about.

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Promotional picture credit to Laura Whitmore.

Old Fat F**k Up plays at London’s Riverside Studios until 20 December. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara