Weather Girl, Soho Theatre Review
Written by Greta for Theatre & Tonic
Disclaimer: Gifted tickets in exchange for an honest review.
Weather Girl makes you feel as though you’re caught in a whirlwind of absurdity and impending doom, yet unable to look away. This one-woman show, which took the Edinburgh Festival by storm last summer, debuts at Soho Theatre, bringing fun and darkness to the stage in equal parts.
Stacey, a weather girl in California, seems to both embody and loathe the clichés in which she’s trapped: she numbs herself as she follows a superficial routine that imposes her not to acknowledge the catastrophic world around her. Initially, there’s something slightly farcical about Stacey’s almost erratic, hyper-peppy persona. But as the show progresses, that chaos becomes increasingly relatable, as we watch her mental state mirror the absurdity and mayhem of the world around her.
Julia McDermott’s performance is intense and energetic, bringing Stacey to life in her desperate, and sometimes humorous, attempts to cope with such madness. The tone of the show fluctuates between manic comedy and all-too-real tragedy, and McDermott shifts effortlessly between the two; there is something tense and heart-breaking about Stacey losing control and throwing self-preservation to the wind, while the world around her burns.
Stacey’s meltdown becomes more understandable as the show progresses. Considering what she has to deal with, why wouldn’t she snap? The overwhelming pressure of her (and our) existence — of trying to survive in a world that is both on fire and indifferent — is all-consuming. The deeper the descent into Stacey’s internal and external turmoil, the higher the empathy for her reaction. It becomes painfully clear that the forces moving around us not always inspire big, poetic speeches or noble action; they can easily paralise, erode, and ultimately destroy our sense of self and what surrounds us.
The production is meticulously directed by Tyne Rafaeli, who maintains a sense of urgency throughout and infuses the show with much-needed dynamism and nuance. The striking, dramatic lighting design plays a central role in amplifying the already palpable tension of the performance, creating starkly contrasting environments that feel simultaneously hyperreal and completely alien. The atmosphere grows increasingly oppressive — it feels like the walls are closing in, and we are taken on an emotional rollercoaster, where one moment you’re laughing, and the next, you’re feeling the weight of existential despair.
The themes of Weather Girl are timely and urgent. Fire, smoke, heat — the physical manifestations of climate change – run parallel to the all-encompassing burning endured by Stacey. The sense of being unheard, of saying important and true things that no one takes seriously, also runs throughout the show, maddeningly ironic. The production blends environmental collapse and personal unravelling, conveying an escalating sense of panic, frustration, and impotence.
Weather Girl juggles all the above, plus other issues like the deliberate cruelty of capitalism and a sickening dose of misogyny, through a lens that feels like a fever dream. Stacey’s shattering breakdown speaks to the bigger question of how we cope with the overwhelming absurdity of our times, along with the impossibility of finding clarity in a world full of brutality and on its way to extinction. It’s sometimes hard to distinguish between what is real and what is imagined, but not in a way that really matters. The way the production blurs the lines between the real and the fantastical allows the show to make pointed remarks on the nature of survival in the face of overwhelming forces.
Weather Girl, with its frantic energy and ever-present dread, prompts important questions: how do we handle what’s given to us? What are the consequences if we don’t do it right, prioritising personal comfort and gain over benevolent universalism and a sense of care for and connection with the Earth that hosts us? And, most importantly, are we still in time to course-correct? You’ll be left questioning these points, along with the sanity of the world and, in some ways, your own.
At Soho Theatre until 5 April 2025
★ ★ ★ ★
