Chip On Her Shoulder

Kate (Vanessa Buckley) is addicted to potato chips, always has been. Her mother chipped her about her weight for it when she was a child.  Now she’s grown up, living alone in New York, a hospital nurse, but really an aspiring actor who does a lot of auditions but never gets cast.  A pushover with men.  Well, unlucky in love (if ‘love is what you call it) usually...

But here, obviously, ‘chip’ has another meaning: a grievance or dispute that’s likely to lead to an argument.  In Kate’s case, with whom?  The directors who don’t cast her?  The hospital that overworks her?  Or just Life in general?  About halfway through this show Kate asks that very question: what’s she angry about?  And she confesses she doesn’t know.  She might not, but we can guess from her catalogue of complaints.

Nothing seems to work out.  It is Life in general.  Frustrating, dissatisfying.  And her mother’s snarky voice still in her head about her weight and never getting a man.

The term ‘a chip on one’s shoulder’ began as a challenge around 1840 or so as in, ‘I dare you to knock the chip off my shoulder.’  Not that Kate is looking for a fight; she’s not argumentative.  She just seethes – and eats chips.  Lots of chips.  Her comfort food of choice.  Bags and boxes of chips of all kinds are spread across the stage. 

If there’s a challenge it’s to us in this direct address show – almost as if to say, ‘What do you suggest?’  Kate tells her story in short grabs: the boyfriend who chiselled her out of money – and was a dud f**k anyway.  Memories of judgemental Mum.  Limping home from auditions.  Being assigned to the dementia ward – ‘The only time I could win at Scrabble.’ 

The obsession with chips might seem arbitrary – there for the sake of a pun – and chips could be ice cream or chocolate or pickles.  Let’s say it works as an obsession.  The show begins with what looks like an orgasm brought on by a jumbo pack of Smith’s Crisps.  But how can she eat all those chips?  I did wonder about Kate’s weight – as much as she does.  Was she a little fat girl as a child?  She certainly isn’t now.  Vanessa Buckley is tall, lithe and supple.  At one point, she dances and so well that we want more.  But we don’t get it.  It’s just Kate letting off steam.

What do you need for a confessional direct address one-woman show?  A story with a beginning, middle and end, with set-ups and surprise pay-offs, interesting and funny characters that intervene.  Chip On Her Shoulder may not quite have all of these elements.  As an hour of complaining, yes, it could be funnier.  McCauliffe might have written more scenes and situations for Buckley to create for us. 

But Kate’s tale – or situation – is leavened with irony and humour, fatalistic shrugs and her resilience.  She’s doesn’t ask for our sympathy.  She’s matter of fact.  She’s not giving up.  Not yet.  You never know your luck in a big city.  And her grievances are perfectly recognisable to a lot of women in the audience.

And Buckley gets away with being so directly confrontational with her powerful stage presence, her charm, charisma and sly, dry wit.

Michael Brindley

Photographer: Kieran McNamara