The Last Word

Imogen Whittaker is a woman with a piano. And a history of breakups she’d like to work through. And a sense of humour. If you’re on board already, you’ll probably enjoy The Last Word: a one-hour, one-woman comedy cabaret about the ends of relationships.

Through song and short linking monologues, we are taken on a flying tour through the modern dating scene from the perspective of this self-described ‘chaotic’ twenty-something, who charts the ending of many of her relationships, situationships and ‘showmances’ (with one song dedicated to her early twenties dating almost exclusively ‘theatre boys’). Seated at her electric keyboard for the duration, Whittaker delivers tightly crafted dialogue and lyrics at cracking pace with a wry, twinkly-eyed wit that is always warm and personable. Although there’s not an especially prominent narrative arc or significant emotional journey to the story, this works just fine in the one-act cabaret format, and the textural and tonal shifts across the songs – some poppy and light-hearted with catchy hooks, others with more reflective emotional and melodic depth – are enough to keep us engaged throughout.

Whittaker (or the version of herself she knowingly constructs) is self-deprecating but only enough to keep you onside (she jokes more than once that the show is all about her but she still wants to be relatable), not enough to make her seem naive or irritating. Rather, she’s got a strong sense of self and reiterates that in the breakups she chronicles, she was always the breaker and never the breakee (with the notable exception of the relationship with her mental health professional – a joke she returns to several times but doesn’t make a meal of), and in one memorable number she boldly warns the ex: ‘you can go get stuffed / if you think you can make this my fault’. This is a show about exploring the familiar experiences of breakups and ‘last words’, not about bemoaning a state of singledom or feeling sorry for oneself. Perhaps, she begins to reflect thoughtfully near the show’s end, there are lessons she could learn from all this (maybe she shouldn’t sabotage herself by running away from love, she wonders?), but The Last Word has no intent to moralise, rather to entertain.

Staging this touring show in the quirky, cosy, slightly grungy Hidden Theatre was an excellent choice, with its hybrid loungeroom / late-night-festival-gig vibe lending an immediate intimacy and connection that Whittaker builds on from the opening moments, nailing the balance between a polished scripted set and an unreserved chatty gossip session between friends. The only challenge in this space was that when she leaned into her higher registers, the amplification and balance was at times uncomfortable. Otherwise, The Last Word is a bright, enjoyable hour that leaves you musically satisfied, with a relaxed smile on your face from the laughs along the way.

Anica Boulanger-Mashberg

Anica Boulanger-Mashberg is a Hobart-based writer, editor and reviewer.