Darby James had an interesting lockdown. Like most of us, he scrolled to the ends of the internet and what he found there was an ad… for a sperm donation clinic. The ad took hold in his brain and led him down the path of giving away his baby batter, which previously hadn’t had much use – given he’s a cis gay man. So of course, he’s written a cabaret about the process of donation, and the moral quandaries that come with it, that’s now running the full duration of this year’s Melbourne International Comedy Festival.
James’s writing and songs are full of puns and quaint rhyming schemes, turning the clinical process of filling out online forms, going to various appointments and meditating on the ethical dilemma presented by having children into a musical adventure – complete with sea shanties and vulnerable ballads. The music is very much steeped in the musical theatre tradition, with elements of modern pop mixed in (particularly in the donation clinic that plays nothing but ’80s hits). There are plenty of opportunities for cleverness and James attempts to squeeze as much as he can out of the source material.
The highlights of the show include ‘If I Were A Dad’, a delightful song about the kind of parent a gay man might become, and the final number in which he writes a letter to his potential future child. These songs are written with a concrete tenderness that imagines what the future of the sperm might look like, and crucially how complicated the feelings about this future can become. Other numbers sometimes drift into shallower territory, and the hesitation to give any answer for the children-creating question leaves us wanting a little more… steering.
Set and costume by Betty Auhl dresses James as a navy-striped, white capped seaman (geddit), standing atop his small circular rug made from rope surrounded by various bottles and other rope sculptures. The set becomes somewhat restrictive over the 60-minute run time, particularly on the Malthouse Bagging Room stage, giving both James and director Casey Gould not much opportunity for movement outside of the small circle. This leads to some awkward choices that make it difficult for James to reach through the fourth wall and effectively interact with the audience.
Overall, Little Squirt is a unique musical meditation on the experience of thinking about our legacy and how we can ethically continue to exist on this planet. Unfortunately it doesn’t quite manage to move too much outside of the boundaries it creates for itself, both in terms of movement and content.
Little Squirt is playing at the Malthouse until April 21, with tickets starting from $28. Tickets are available via the Comedy Festival website.
