Rachel Bloom’s Death, Let Me Do My Show was met with quite positive reviews, a sold-out run, and an extension in yet another theatre. It is no wonder, looking back at my experience, why the show received so much love, after all, everyone loves a story about anything other than the pandemic.
I truly must admit my personal bias. I adore a comedy show. So much of my theatre-going experiences started with musical comedies and, as I’ve grown as both an artist and a theatre-goer, I have branched out. But as most people do, I always manage to “find my way back home.” I find that appreciation and admiration are still very present and very much alive, especially with shows like Rachel Bloom’s Death, Let Me Do My Show, a show that blends the sophisticated art of deep sadness. A feeling few writers can muster the courage to create, with the humor and crassness that few are confident enough to try.
So what is it about?
Death, Let Me Do My Show looks at Rachel as she tries desperately to escape the pandemic and provides her a space to explore the ideas of death, newness, and ultimately utter confusion. She begins with every intention of performing the work she began writing in 2019 before the unprecedented times that were soon to follow. Yet she is forced to look at the grim times that backed us all into our homes. Confronting emotions that she would rather just shove down once again. At first look, you almost don’t want to stay. You lived through the pandemic and you don’t want to see more art discussing it. Yet the show is sold out and she is about to show you why. Musical theatre, slapstick humor, and heart follow in the next hour and a half. It's all carefully blended with Bloom's comedic signature and, by the end, you are glad you stayed. Bloom pulls you into her world and, during the show, you may find yourself crying unexpectedly, laughing way too hard at jokes that lean into their corniness with every muscle, or just feeling connected to this universal experience in a way you may not have anticipated. She brings light into a topic so integrated with heartache and disdain that, for a moment, you don’t mind listening to a conversation about the pandemic yet again.
We begin the show with a hypothetical. A hypothetical death, as it has not happened but we understand the reality, as does Bloom. We're looking at the death of her current dog, due to a mishap with a mailing advert from her pet insurance policy. She leads humorous songs, concerning the concept of the rainbow bridge, which leads us into the next portion of the show.
As we move along in Bloom's comedic stand-up bit, we learn about the birth of Bloom’s daughter early on in the pandemic as well as the death of Adam Schlesinger, Bloom’s long-time friend and co-creator. “Death,” a visual persona, threatens Bloom. Forcing her to talk about the stories she isn’t seemingly ready to discuss. Death interrupts and is messy in their diversion to Bloom's descriptive measures. She doesn’t want to talk about these dark topics but death won’t let up. Bloom just wants to stay in the blissful illusion she's created of the time in 2019.
As she is forced to confront the uncertain and messy parts of the story, the audience learns exactly what Bloom was feeling throughout the messiest and scariest parts of her life. Bloom’s daughter was born into a world wrecked with uncertainty and fear, much like herself, as her daughter ended up in the intensive care unit. Bloom approaches this topic with grace. Explaining how this was early on in the pandemic and we did not truly know the severity. We just took precautions and stayed away from hospitals as best we could. They were overrun with this new disease and yet here she was, stuck in the one place she did not want to be, giving up control, and putting complete trust into doctors she just met, as she balanced the stress of this new normal with the stress of motherhood.
Unfortunately, timing was not on her side. While Bloom was in the hospital or rather visiting, because of covid policies, her friend Adam was admitted with Covid-19. Bloom's daughter fully recovered, but Adam did not. Now she is left to navigate motherhood, grief, and all the challenges and heartache associated with both all the while addressing her feelings on this new state of normal. Bloom reaches this point in the show and it feels as if your heart stops. “Death” interrupts, pushing her to tell these stories continuously. He forces her to confront her feelings with relentless persistence and she does so, while integrating songs written about her emotional state that feels so deeply relatable.
So what did you think?
I love a good gimmick. Heckling all things that, in the comedy cell or an underground basement in the midst of The Village, would get someone thrown out or maybe applauded. But to see it on a more theatrical stage, where I’m expected to sit back and watch her take it, was both brutal and made me almost ready to throw a drink. After all, I’m here for Rachel, not some random man in the audience, yet: I am here for him. He’s Death and it all makes sense now. This play on that power dynamic is highly amusing and even if a bit predictable once we started going, it was still entertaining and had me on the edge of my seat for a moment.
This show is very much for a specific demographic, the one I am undoubtedly in. I was hesitant like I suspect many were at the idea of a show about the pandemic, but Bloom is an expert in her craft. She understands how to create songs and lyrics that pull in that musical theatre esc style and address the very real state of her emotional being while still leaning the full weight of the production into a more comedic direction. She enthusiastically presents a deeply harrowing experience that may not be exactly what we all individually felt during the pandemic, but she connects this state of crisis so exceptionally well to our understanding of life and death. We were asked to relate in any way that we could and then the show presented an emotional collection of raw feelings that were pulled together with Bloom’s expert comedic writing.
While researching to better understand where Bloom was at when creating the show, I found her conversation on the idea of awareness to be fascinating. In an interview with Emily Gould, for The Cut, Bloom states:
“the project is still a work-in-progress as she grapples with the awareness, every day, that the world isn’t “back to normal” — that any stasis we once assumed was possible has been replaced by a state of perpetual crisis.”
This explains the fluidity and grace that built this comedic and heartbreaking production. Truthfully I found little fault with Bloom's work as well as the work of Seth Barrish, who directed the show and is a long-term collaborator with Mike Berbiglia. You can see the influence and collaborative efforts brought on by a team of exceptionally funny people.
Ultimately, I adore Bloom's writing. So, coming into this production, I had a preconceived notion of appreciation. I believe this show is one that we can all relate to in our specific ways, yet I think she does an exceptional job of retaining her individuality. She tackles heavy subject material with a zany and over-the-top flair.
Death, Let Me Do My Show, is a perfect show for anyone looking to seamlessly blend the art of stand-up and musical theatre as well as anyone looking for a reason to connect. We all lived through the pandemic and so much of the art surrounding it simply wants to retell the story, while Bloom places that aside and asks us to confront our feelings and address our anxieties centered around death.
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