There are few times in life where I have truly felt at peace, experiencing a balance of happiness, comfort and euphoria. I felt it when my head was buried in Bridget Everett’s breasts.
In New York City, Everett is recognized as one of downtown’s top cabaret performers. His shows at Joe’s Pub are the kind of immersive effort that would scare even the most button-up of us away from the theater like they’re being chased by Jason Voorhees in a tight silk mini dress. For others, it’s the church – an ecclesiastical celebration of brutality, rejecting inhibitions, and really, really, fleshly to feel things.
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A talented singer with a wanton stage presence whose comedic timing is wielded with surgical precision, Everett’s shows are a hybrid of intimate storytelling, building safe spaces, and then debauchery as she takes to singing.
These are songs where she purrs, “What do I have to do to get that cock in my mouth?” while stroking the heads of the spectators. Or “Titties”, in which she walks the living room improvising on the different types of personalities she could attribute to the breasts she passes. (“You’ve got those sky blue tits,” she winked at me, before moving up to my knees and forcing my face into her own cleavage.)
There’s a spark of magic twinkling around Everett as she does this. It’s not just rudeness for the sake of shock. It’s transformative – the opportunity to feel unbridled, access your secrets, your desires, and behave in ways you would never allow yourself in any other situation (and then maybe think about it. the reason). She is a force, “larger than life,” as a wonderful profile on her in the recent New Yorker hail in its title. And that’s why her performance in her new semi-autobiographical HBO series, which launched on Sunday, is such a revelation.
If you are familiar with Everett’s cabaret work, you will be blown away by what you see in Someone somewhere, a deep and meditative – dare we say calm – series about a middle-aged woman who returns to her hometown of Kansas after her sister’s death, wondering, perhaps decades later that she was born. should have, which it is. will do with his life. And, perhaps more terrifyingly, she could ever be happy.
Everett plays Sam, who is sarcastic and sarcastic in a way that puts off some of her little Midwestern family, but thrills others like her new friend Joel (Jeff Hiller), who works with her at the Numb Center of the brain where they standardized quality tests. But this humor is not a shield. It’s a complement to her warmth and compassion, her desire for the best for everyone she loves, even if they don’t bother to do good in return.
Thanks to Joël, who volunteers for a church, she finds some salvation. He told the Reverend a lie, asking for church space for choir practice. Instead, he uses it to throw an open mic party, his own cabaret of sorts, where the city’s queer folk, performers and anyone who feels lost and longs to express themselves can commune and share. produce. He trains Sam there, and as she finds her voice on stage, empowerment and satisfaction resonate in other complicated areas of her life.
Especially unlike his cabaret character, Everett does a touching and sweet character work in this series. Even if you were one of those who resisted for her groundbreaking performance as the domineering and absent mother in cult favorite Sundance Patti Cake $, you would be surprised at how capable she is as an actress. This is a series that takes its time to establish a sense of belonging, who these people are and what they expect from the world. But once you’re there and invested, you won’t want to leave.
Sam of Everett is a character who, like many of us, has some work to do on her own. This often amounts to an impossible task; for some, it is not necessary to invoke the necessary energy to overcome inertia. Still, Sam does. At the end of Episode 3 when, with the light of an electric crucifix shining behind her like a sacrilegious halo, she girdles the final notes of “Piece of My Heart” and rips her V-neck t-shirt to reveal her bra and cleavage, you can see a person whose mind has been transformed. Yours too.