By BRUCE DENNILL
A new one-mother show, written and performed by Lara Toselli, Mother Load follows Seraphine through the thick of early postpartum chaos as she learns to surrender to – and accept – the new version of herself. This is a show about grief disguised as a show about motherhood. Or a show about motherhood that turned out to be about grief. Or, most accurately, a show about discovering that these are the same thing, and that survival looks like learning to carry both.
What is it like to write material with so much of yourself in it? Acting is by its nature an incredibly vulnerable thing to do, but this adds several layers to that…
It’s terrifying. But after years of trying to tell this story in different forms, none of which got made, I felt an urgency to finally put it out there in the most immediate, viable way I could. Whenever I question why I’d expose myself like this, I come back to the same answer: I need to tell it to express and release myself from it, and to reflect back to an audience an experience they might recognise as their own. Also, I just miss acting and being on stage. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a play and I wanted to get back out there. As per usual, in my experience, making my own work is the best way for me to do that.
From a dramatic or creative perspective, losing something profound to gain something precious could hardly be a better driving force, but living through those experiences can sometimes feel like too much of a sacrifice. How does that apply to Mother Load as play and as a creative process?
It’s been five years since I became a mother, which has given me the distance to actually process what I went through rather than just survive it. As much as I wanted to tell this story sooner, I don’t think I’d have had enough perspective to share my truth fully. I needed the time.
Where does comedy fit into all of this?
If we don’t laugh, we’ll just cry. There’s always lightness in the dark – you have to go looking for it, or you risk taking yourself far too seriously. Motherhood and grief are messy: real, difficult, often ugly, but also ridiculous and silly. A sense of humour, especially in hard times, has always been my saving grace.
How were you introduced to theatre (or television or film) as an art form or space in which you could see value and interest, as well as a place or platform for entertainment?
I’ve loved theatre, film and TV for as long as I can remember. My late mother was an actress who could have a room in stitches just describing her day or the women she’d met in the Pick ‘n Pay queue. My father is equally passionate about the arts and took me to every musical and play he could – and not the children’s ones. I was watching Cabaret far too young to understand what we weren’t telling Mama about – and I loved it. Even then, I appreciated the dark comedy. I later studied drama at Wits and went deeper into the how and why of acting and making theatre and film. I love how a play can teach you about yourself while cultivating compassion for someone else’s experience. Theatre especially feels like a necessary art form for staying connected as human beings: it forces you to stay present, to put your phone down. More so now than maybe ever.
How does acting as a calling sit with people outside of your professional or creative community?
They’ve generally been very supportive and encouraging of my creative pursuits.
Interpretation of text or direction – how do you position yourself or your perspectives in a character you’re playing? And how does this change when you’re also the writer of the script?
I’ve only written a handful of things I’ve also performed and the characters have always been closely inspired by me and the people in my life. Writing forces me to ask the hard questions of myself and of the other characters; to understand the reasons behind the behavior and why the dynamics land the way they do. I’m genuinely fascinated by people: getting to the core of why someone does what they do, or dates who they date – not with judgment, just curiosity about human behaviour and psychology. If I weren’t an actress, I’d probably have made a decent psychologist.
This is a new, original show debuting in a new space – The Antique Theatre in Cape Town. How does this affect how you marketing plan? Should it affect it?
It’s genuinely exciting to be the first female performer in this new space and to know that after Mother Load, there’s a whole line-up of other amazing women doing one-woman shows. There’s something wonderful about breaking that seal. It feels like a real moment for everyone in Cape Town who wants to make new work and try out original shows in a new venue. I think the buzz around the space itself will only add to the excitement building around all the shows coming this year.