close
close
Josephine Lacey: Autism Mama review – unlike any other show at the Edinburgh Fringe | Edinburgh Festival 2024

AIn a festival of 3,600 shows, some will feel the same. But probably no other performance will resemble Josephine Lacey’s. Autism Mama might not sound so unique on paper: It’s about Lacey’s experiences as the mother of a son with autism and sensory processing disorder — and fits, you’d think, perfectly into the category of “comedy shows about neurodiversity and challenging personal experiences.” But with Lacey’s handling, it never feels that way — and you can be sure handling is the right term. The 56-year-old’s debut hour is rude, precise, wickedly humorous and — a beautiful quality, this — radiates with maternal love.

Not that she’s pretentious or sentimental: she’s a straight-talking Londoner (“That can fuck off!”), and there’s not a hint of sentimentality about her. The most poignant scene is one of gloating at the death of her son’s biological father. But usually, love, not disgust, is the main theme as Lacey tells us about her life as “both mum and dad” to a son with dysregulation disorder and his experiences of puberty. On one level, this leads to awkward situations in public places, like the trip to the supermarket, which is interrupted by Callum saying to a passing shopper, “Oh, I like your boobs.” On another, Callum experiences pain and uncertainty in his changing body and his changing reactions.

Step forward, you autism mom, and – armed with a long, thin balloon and a tube of lube – boldly go where few moms have gone before. Here we see the full demo. There’s also a central section re-enacting sex education for those with special educational needs, which is perhaps more useful as context than comedy. But in her authoritative style (she’d be a great educator herself), Lacey usually maintains a deft balance between wit and fascination. And loving: There’s an extraordinary moment when her balloon penis gives Lacey an instantaneous glimpse into the life of her beloved boy – glimpses that, she admits, are usually denied to her. Has parental love ever been distilled into such an unlikely image? This is a tender, crystal-clear and gleefully naughty show about a mother who gives, if not every extra metre, then at least every extra 6 inches.

At Pleasance Courtyard, Edinburgh until August 25th
All our reviews of the Edinburgh Festival

By Bronte

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *