As self-help books continue to rise in popularity, it is evident that audiences are in the trenches when it comes to soul searching. Collectively, we are looking for answers, and looking for answers quickly– the kind of one-and-done trick that can be gleaned from a 90-page guide or 12-step workbook that promises to crack the code on love or wealth.
But at some point, these books and guides and plans seem to melt together into one big conglomerate of commercialized and palatable advice. Perhaps what we need, perhaps the answer we are looking for is a little more underground, a little more raw, and a little more fringe.
The Hollywood Fringe Festival provides the unique opportunity to witness the stories of many people, real and fictional, whose experiences and takeaways might not be as readily accessible on the main stage (or screen). This past week, I had the pleasure of attending three one-woman shows: Dear Auntie B., The Fat Girl’s Guide to Life, Sex, and Everything in Between, and Body Count. All three pieces work within the framework of advice and self-help, seeking to guide the audience through their own hard-won self-actualization.
Dear Auntie B.
Written and performed by Becca Lustgarten, Dear Auntie B. is a one-woman musical dramedy following B., a fabulous Manhattan socialite and love guru who publishes dating advice for the struggling plebs of NYC. In the wake of a shocking tragedy, B. struggles to manage her guilt and grief while also defending her credibility and reputation as a commentator on all things relationship.
Over the course of an hour, Auntie B. attempts to work, responding to a series of inquiries (and the odd phone call) soliciting her help. Her answers all reek of classism and self-importance. They initially paint the portrait of an out-of-touch microcelebrity, then slowly unearth a deeper desperation for normalcy and relevance. Between musical interludes (all quite brief and homages to the biggest musicals of classic Broadway), a slow-burn mystery begins to unravel, leaving B. and the audience to grapple with the pieces.
Dear Auntie B. is clean and tight production. Lustgarten hits all her marks while lending vivacious flair to B., reminiscent of Anne Hathaway. Director Sally Hughes cultivates a tightly choreographed and manicured style that unravels with the character and plot. Dear Auntie B. yearns to be a larger production, and I hope to see this world premiere further developed into a fully designed and realized piece on the main stage soon.
Dear Auntie B. runs for three more shows at the Actors Company (The Little Theater), 916 N. Formosa Ave., Los Angeles. Tickets are $15 and can be purchased here.
The Fat Girl’s Guide to Life, Sex, and Everything in Between
Ariella Salinas Fiore is a self-described “Latina, queer, sex positive fat person.” In her new one-woman show, Fiore explores the intersection of these identities, with an emphasis on her experiences as a fat woman in the 21st century U.S.
Structured like a self-help book (complete with chapters, diagrams, and visual aids), The Fat Girl’s Guide to Life, Sex, and Everything in Between is Fiore’s ode to other fat girls. It is a declaration of self-love and body neutrality. The Fat Girl’s Guide pulls from a variety of primary sources, ranging from Fiore’s personal experience to the Kama Sutra, developing meaningful steps for people with bigger bodies to fully embrace their “sexfulness,” their joy, and their right to take up space.
Though Fiore often repeats that “your body is the least interesting thing about you,” The Fat Girl’s Guide is filled with recollections and memories, some humorous and some shockingly traumatic, that are inherently tied to her experience as a fat person. Over the course of one hour, Fiore shares her narrative with a resonant vulnerability, offering keen insight into an often overlooked facet of identity. Though the performance will benefit from continued workshop and refinement, especially in regards to flow and pacing, The Fat Girl’s Guide to Life, Sex, and Everything in Between has good bones and is worth a watch for anyone with a body.
The Fat Girl’s Guide to Life, Sex, and Everything in Between runs for three more performances at the Hobgoblin Playhouse (Main Space), 6440 Santa Monica, Blvd. Tickets are available here.
Body Count
A body count, as Joy Regullano explains, has two meanings. The dictionary defines body count as “a list or total of casualties,” usually referencing a war or some other disaster. In slang, a body count is the total number of sexual partners in a person’s intimate history. Over the course of one hour, Regullano recounts the bodies left in her wake, and the hard-won lessons she learned along the way.
Half stand-up comedy show, half TED Talk, Body Count is brutally honest and incredibly vulnerable. With a wry smile, Regullano will tell you she is “sick of hearing about your shitty relationships,” before chronologically recounting all her co-dependent, manipulative partnerships, spanning from her relationship with her immigrant parents who are struggling with their own baggage to her long series of boyfriends.
Though Body Count is inherently one of those tell-all autobiographical solo-shows, Regullano is careful to not overindulge self pity. In fact, Body Count is told with a surprising degree of humility and a good deal of research. The end of the performance is rushed, but only because Regullano has a lot to share. With thoughtful writing and graceful self-analysis, Body Count is an affecting exploration of dependency and the possibility of healing.
Body Count has completed its run at the Hollywood Fringe Festival. Stay up-to-date with Joy’s work at https://www.joyregullano.com and with director Fran de Leon at https://www.frandeleon.com.
