Let Me Explain: as uproarious as is it therapeutic
30 Sep 2024 - Photos by Conan Stark

Let Me Explain has a lengthy audience advisory warning that: "this play discusses racism, homophobia, terrorism, religion, and features a fair amount of swearing." It also cautions that "viewers may experience therapeutic laughter and should not start the show with a full bladder." That final caution is the one to heed. As a confessional cabaret or deep dive into a tortured artist's psyche, Let Me Explain is closer to conceptual stand-up comedy or an ambitious one-man take on the state of the universe. While the subject matter is heavy, the tone is effervescent, and the copious laughs are indeed more healing than bitter or vicious. Izad Etemadi (Mad Madge, Box 4901, The Beaver Den), his name emblazoned in lights, bounces onstage to announce that as a gay, Persian man with a bit of extra heft, he is tired of "having to explain everything there is about me." Let Me Explain was created so that "I never have to do it again." 

There again is a bit of false advertising, Let Me Explain is so contagiously entertaining and so packed with intriguing anecdotes and ideas, that Etemadi will undoubtedly be doing it again and again. And again. The enthusiastic crowd contained more than a few repeat audience members, including one curmudgeonly critic who raved. And this curmudgeonly critic also eagerly anticipates the next performance, preferably in a plusher venue. Etemadi begins with instructions on how to pronounce his name. One's name is an integral facet of one's identity and it understandably irks him that his is frequently mangled or misinterpreted. The catalogue of mutilated versions of "Izad" is hilarious and evolves into an acappella patter rap that gives Etemadi an instant punchline for punctuation as Let Me Explain progresses. This is a device that he and director/dramaturge Matt White (Will You Be My Friend) make frequent use of. Phrases, incidents, factoids are dropped with seemingly casual nonchalance, only to surface later to be expanded or explained or to create a counterpoint to another seemingly casual reference. This pays off with overwhelming laughter when a final punchline reveals his true name pronunciation.

Yes, Etemadi is putting his unique self on display. Chronicling the difficulties of being an immigrant, of being Persian, of coming out, of being a musical theatre nerd. But the challenges prove far from insurmountable and, while Etemadi is an unstoppable force of charm and determination, he pauses to encourage a round of applause for "immigrant parents." He knows where his survival skills have been honed. The immigrant story is a very Canadian trope, but Etemadi personalizes it, is specific thus making it universal, and blends it with the other well-worn narrative of coming out, making both fresh. As Etemadi morphs from character to character as he brings his story to life, one not only relates to his travails, one also gets to share in his triumphs. With a side wink to show that he knows we know what he means, he draws us in to not just relate but to participate. His audition piece for musical theatre school, is a raucous tour de force solo version of the opening number from Die Schone und das Biest, which is not only conceptually hilarious and wincingly miscalculated, but also stunningly performed, travelling from bizarre potential to logical if unusual to a showstopper in any context. As is the story of how he got to that point.

The route to Let Me Explain's final declaration is circuitous, exploring both the joys of being "ethnically ambiguous" and the contradictory frustrations of being typecast as a terrorist (the latter being another memorable recreation of an audition going gloriously off the rails). We are invited conspiratorially, the show is remarkably intimate despite the size of the audience, into the melodrama of a first crush, the isolation of not speaking the language or sexual/gender roles, the dawning of a fierce determination to have pride in one's uniqueness. And that is the final beautiful takeaway from Let Me Explain. Etemadi positions himself as an everyman with the odds stacked against him. But he tackles each obstacle with openness, a bit of joy, and a rueful acceptance of life's, and his own, absurdity. Trying to fit in is futile, a waste of energy; becoming one's own unique self is fabulous. Autobiographical self-analysis that never wallows but rather energizes and inspires. Navel-gazing that celebrates the perfection of a bit of a belly. And all delivered with crack timing and the self-confidence born of vulnerability. And yes, the laughter is as therapeutic as it is uproarious. Etemadi has to do it again.