Writer tackles the painful things in life
Amid the sadness of being cut off by a friend, Deborah Williams found enough humour for her latest comedy
PREVIEW What: Taking Off Where: Belfry Theatre When: To March 12 Tickets: $30 (250 385-6815)
Having a pal cut off their friendship partly inspired Deborah Williams’ new comedy, Taking Off.
“It just hurt,” she recalled this week.
Even if you’re never heard of Williams, a Vancouver actor/ writer, you might have seen her greatest hit, Mom’s the Word,a comedy about parenthood that she co-wrote and performed with five other women.
Since its debut more than 20 years ago, Mom’s the Word has been performed more than 10,000 times in 14 languages for 1.5 million people in 19 countries. Williams has acted in 1,500 performances of the show.
In the world of Canadian theatre — or any theatre world — these are blockbuster numbers.
The show’s popularity led to a sequel, Mom’s the Word 2: Unhinged. A new instalment, Mom’s the Word 3: Nest 1/2 Empty, will open at Vancouver’s Arts Club Theatre on April 6.
Taking Off has its world première tonight at the Belfry Theatre. It’s Williams’ first stab at writing an adult show by herself (she has penned plays for young people before, as well as creating and performing standup comedy). She also stars in the one-woman show.
The Belfry commissioned her to create Taking Off several years ago. Artistic director Michael Shamata and executive director Ivan Habel were especially encouraging during the writing process, Williams said this week at the Belfry.
“They kept me going on it when I kept thinking: ‘Oh my God, this is the worst thing ever,’ ” 52-yearold Williams said with a laugh.
Taking Off is about a harried middle-aged mother, Minnie, who plans a vacation to New Orleans with her buddy Maureen. However, the trip goes off the rails thanks to Minnie’s scatter-brained shenanigans. Ultimately, the friendship fractures in a spectacular manner.
While Williams stresses Taking Off isn’t an autobiographical play, its writing was spurred by an old friend undergoing therapy. One day, Williams’ pal announced she was dropping unnecessary friends, on her therapist’s advice.
“And she said: ‘I think you should know, I’m thinking about pruning our relationship,’ ” Williams said. Her friend thought Williams — who has a busy life — was not holding up her side of the friendship.
After her initial outrage and hurt, Williams started to cheer up. She realized she was overwhelmed with the task of keeping up a multitude of friendships: the phone calls, birthday parties and dinners. Suddenly, pruning the friendship tree seemed like a good idea after all.
Added bonus: Williams got a play out of it.
Taking Off is replete with the blunt, sometimes outrageous, humour for which Williams is renowned.
In the play, Minnie jokes about her moles (“Is that dry food or a melanoma?”), her cottage-cheese thighs and the nature of true friendship: “dancing, eating and bitching about other people.” Meanwhile, Minnie’s daughter is a dreadlocked, pierced, tattooed millennial who relaxes by weaving ivy.
“I couldn’t get my kids to do anything like that,” Williams said with a grin.
“They’re so freakin’ straight.” Over the years, the actor/playwright has learned that writing about things rarely found in polite conversation elicits the biggest laughs.
“The more something’s a secret, the more people get it. Because we’re all going through the same crap,” she said.
“I think I’m pretty honest about stuff. I’m willing to talk about things that are fairly painful. I’ve found out through my art, the more something makes me cry, the more it’s going to make the audience laugh.”
Williams’ honesty extends to being frank about her struggle with an eating disorder. Her bulimia developed in her early teens and it lasted until she was about 23.
She used to attend a weekly outpatient meeting. After a time, she noticed some of her anorexic friends who were part of the group were dying.
“And then I realized I was going to lose [through bulimia] my teeth and my voice for theatre. That’s what stopped me.”
Nonetheless, she continues to have an attitude toward food that’s not entirely normal. “It’s not like it goes away,” Williams said.
Her fretting about creating and starring in her first one-woman show is tempered by her satisfaction with her artistic collaborators.
Williams is effusive in her praise for director James Fagan Tait, whom she professes to trust absolutely. Ditto for the Belfry, which she deems “the best theatre to work in the whole country.”
Taking artistic chances can be scary. Yet Williams admits she wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I keep adding terrifying things as I get older. And I think if you don’t, you don’t quite know you’re alive.”