It’s early March 2020, and Greg is living his life in New York City. He’s a singing-cycling tour guide. He has a small but perfect apartment that he loves.
And every night at 7 he allows himself a little treat. It could be ice cream, it could be listening to Liza Minelli, it could be watching Real Housewives, it could be all three, but whatever it is, it allows Greg to shut out the world.
In Frank Murdocco’s one man show A Little Treat, Greg fills us in on his daily routine. Murdocco’s fast, nervous, delivery is a combination of New York City and anxiety. Despite the (excellent) jokes, we can see he is wound up; he has something to tell us – and as his therapist advises,
‘The best way to let go of a story is to tell it.’
We learn that Greg used to be sociable; he remembers partying on the roof with his work colleagues (though he still came home in time for his 7pm date), but five and a half years ago something happened. Greg’s Dad was arrested for being part (and, Greg laments, not even the main, interesting, part) of a Ponzi scheme – one that stole from Greg’s own college friends. Since then Greg has decided to keep the whole world at bay.
And he’s not spoken one word to his father.
So when Greg’s manager calls to tell him that Covid will mean the end of his tours, he hasn’t a clue what the ‘insipid little twink’ is talking about. Why is even Kenneth, who’s never shown the slightest concern for Greg before, telling him to get down to Trader Joe’s and stock up? Why is his mother asking if he wants to move back home? Why is his sister Hannah telling him things are really bad?
As Greg’s confusion grows, his anxiety rockets. The world was a scary enough place already; he doesn’t want to cope with anything more. For so many of us – perhaps men especially – the pandemic brought a profound sense of powerlessness. We were forced to acknowledge how little control we had over an existential threat the like of which had not been seen in our lifetimes. Murdocco does an excellent job of showing us how Greg struggles to cling on to the vestiges of his self-contained life. He avoids the news; he declines his neighbour Sam’s invitation to a virtual poker night (it clashes with treat time…); he only calls his mother because he feels a little guilty about her – but more importantly because if he doesn’t call her, she’ll call him and interrupt his appointments with a tub of Haagen-Dazs.
This being the story of a New Yorker, Murdocco peppers it with quick fire humour and very funny jokes; he switches from tart to tragic in an instant, revealing the lost, vulnerable man beneath the protective carapace. In March 2020 weren’t most of us terrified? Some tried to brave it out; I read about a guy who intended to buy enough pot noodles to see him through to the end of the lockdown – no mask for him! Greg isn’t that daft; he even occasionally ventures outside. What he doesn’t want, however, is to face facts that threaten to breach his defences. He’s shielding, and not just from the virus.
Gradually though, and whether he likes it or not, outside life starts to creep back in. He acquires a therapist, Deirdre. He finds out that Sam is in fact his mother’s ‘eyes on the ground’, checking in on him because both of them care. The reality of the pandemic becomes unavoidable. He’s shocked when Hannah tells him that those refrigerated trucks he’s seen aren’t carrying groceries. He still tries to keep his head in the sand – and is taken aback by other people’s responses to his unintentional self-centeredness.
And then his Dad tries to call him, not once but every day. Will Greg meet him halfway, or will he shun the man he sees as an appalling father, and a homophobic one too? Is he right or is he wrong? And even if he is right, if the world is falling apart, is being right enough to justify a total shutdown?
In the space of an hour Frank Murdocco skilfully draws us into Greg’s world. The audience at this, the first day of the show, was clearly invested in the life of this conflicted, sad man. Murdocco was impressively word perfect, never missing a beat as he told Greg’s story, and also creating nuanced (and often hilarious) voices for Sam, Hannah, and his Mum. I could picture each of them clearly (and I hope Greg wouldn’t be too horrified if I admitted those pictures probably came direct from Rhoda.)
The climax of A Little Treat had me holding my breath; Murdocco’s portrayal of a man on the edge (in more ways than one) was gripping.
It would be good if, in subsequent shows, Murdocco could increase the volume a little; I did strain to hear him on occasion. It is also unfortunate that the layout of the Mint Studio means that it can be difficult to see from the back rows. But these are minor quibbles, A Little Treat is a small gem of a play, an entertaining, thought-provoking flashback to those strange, stressful months of 2020, and a reminder that we should never take anything for granted.
A Little Treat is a Special Occasion production. It is on at 17.25 at Greenside @ George Street (Mint Studio) every day until 10th August. Tickets here.
