Abigoliah Schamaun bursts on stage with the energy of Mr. Motivator and the stage presence of a high-level Scientologist and within seconds everyone is doing squats. Burpees come next, which prove a little more difficult in narrow rows of plastic chairs. Soon, the realisation that we have not been tricked into an hour of intensive exercise is a welcome relief.
Namaste, Bitches follows Schamaun’s journey from dreams of Broadway stardom to poor lifestyle choices and the realisation that her dream just wasn’t going to happen. The subtle music and use of stairs provide a hilarious emotional segment that breaks up the heart attack pace of the show. Then she goes on to explain what came next… enrolling on a $9000 teacher training course with disgraced millionaire yoga guru Bikram Choudhury.
For those who know nothing of Choudhury, google him. Schamaun uses a picture of him wearing something akin to the last item left in a Zara sale, slicked back balding locks whilst pouting against a Rolls Royce. Her insight into the man is intriguing and her energetic style keeps all stories interesting.
On top of storytelling, there are some teeth-clenchingly awkward crowd interactions. Let’s hope Saturday night crowds are no reflection of society at large. We are treated to an “I’m not racist, look at my black son-in law” and someone who takes offence to the word “lesbian” and tries to sabotage the show. Being offended is so 2014. To Schamaun’s credit, she is polite, honest and puts up with no shit. The whole room cheers and claps as the heckler is asked to leave. From this point on she could sit in silence and still receive a standing ovation.
Rather than wilt, she continues with her funny stories until she brings the show to a glorious end. Without spoiling it, it is a genuinely heart-warming surprise, like finding twenty pounds in an old pair of jeans. It seems that for some, a background in musical theatre is not a complete waste of time.