Miss Honey (Assembly Online, 6-30 August)

Joanna Griffin's one woman show plays with the joys and burdens of becoming your social circle's wild card.

Ever been accosted by a show before you've even (virtually) entered the venue? Miss Honey's Nina is loud and lively, a whirlwind of anecdotes, a "fake it til you make it" charmer who's totally at home faking it and doesn't give much of a shit about making it. Under that bravado, however, hides a vulnerable woman nursing a breakup in this story of arrested development that brims with vibrancy.

“Griffin has crafted a flawed, hurting character who you can't help but root for.”

Joanna Griffin springs forth as Nina and it's easy to get caught in her orbit. The online format affords this show a one-on-one intimacy which immediately endears the viewer to Nina, even if it also emphasises her complete lack of interest in a two-sided conversation with this audience-insert new friend. Her selfishness feels a barrier until we see her take a phone call from her dad: watching Griffin's features soften as she relays instructions on lasagne for dinner, it's a glimpse behind the curtain at a loving Nina.

Nina's sudden closeness with the viewer is a quick indication that she's scrabbling for connection after a rupture from her friends, whose lives are headed toward marriage and children. Around discussions of commitment and monogamy, Nina retreats into her id and increasingly craves escapism.

This search for a community feels closely linked to the choice of venue, drag performance space The Glory. Out of hours, Nina gushes about her performer friends (Mina Wig and Wesley Dykes), who materialise at the show's conclusion. There's a genuine sense of joy as the three dance together, and a hint at the inclusivity which LGBT+ performances spaces offer, though this wider theme seems tacked on to the central conflict. Rather, it's a spot where Nina can reliably nurse her wounds. Her awareness of being the "token straight girl" in a queer space points to the escapism she seeks from the conventional expectations of entering one's thirties, but still belies Nina's selfishness as she sees the space as something which serves her, rather than the wider impact.

Nina's "one more drink, one more song" mentality descends into a truly nail-biting climax, and the open-endedness of the show feels characteristic for her spiral away from responsibility. Griffin has crafted a flawed, hurting character who you can't help but root for, an underdog in the face of babies and office jobs who's darting from an ominous set of consequences. There's a complexity to the performance but that sense of dangerous fun never vanishes: if you've missed out this last year on meeting somebody in a club and becoming best friends for ten hours, this is the ticket.

Miss Honey is available to stream on demand, 6-30 August. Find out more and buy tickets here.