Lamesha Ruddock
Kristin McGuire’s Kris Killed Pop is a deeply moving one-woman musical comedy about the spiraling relationship between grief and guilt. From the first note to the final gag, the show sweeps audiences into a world where laughter and sorrow coexist effortlessly. Kristin McGuire commands the stage with utter charisma and sheer musical talent, transforming personal pain into shared experience. In every sense of the title, Kris kills it; she crushes it with her songs while leaving a tantalising question lingering: did she also, somehow, kill her dad?
Kris Killed Pop explores what happens when illogical culpability spirals outrageously. The show examines loss and the consequences of finally facing what we usually run from. Through original songs, clowning, puppetry, and audience interaction, Kristin McGuire investigates how we release ourselves from the worries over life’s unpredictability through the stories we tell ourselves.
The show dives into Kris’s Colombo-style investigation, tapping into her exceptional voice-over prowess as she dialogues with her inner voice who believes she killed Pop. From being a spinster, having a shameful job, being the black sheep, bearing no offspring, to feeling ungrateful, Kris examines how these pressures may have affected her father. Kris Killed Pop captures the yearning for conversations never had and the emotionally vulnerable interrogations she wishes she could undertake. It even questions her ancestors, recently discovered to be Irish rather than Italian, about how they shaped her parents’ lives.
On stage, a detective pinboard sits stage left, while a keyboard and chair frame Kris’s focus on truth and music. Kristin McGuire, uncannily reminiscent of Anna Kendrick, dynamically plays her ukulele, juxtaposing tunes about generational differences, marriage reluctance to Aslan, and concerns from genocides to famine. She toys with the audience, keeping us on edge with her clowning, addressing us directly and adorably gagging us with “not you silly goose.”
Kris pushes this to the max especially when she gets an audience volunteer to steward her struck props like a licked lollipop, haunted doll, and rucksack, until he cannot even hold his pint. Kristin’s vocal dexterity shines in upbeat show tunes, her gorgeous trills punctuating both humor and pathos. She embraces the ridiculous, taking audience suggestions to astonishingly comic effect. I never thought I would hear Meryl Streep make cum noises and wail like an infant.
Modern commentary arrives through an AI chatbot where she is adorned with a tiny brown cowboy hat and cyclops goggles, joking, not joking, about taking your job, brilliantly reflecting the audience’s contemporary guilt and anxieties. Kris’ childhood is brought to life with a purple furry puppet representing David Tennant, an emotional crutch that illustrates her tendency to pacify herself rather than live her truth. Kris navigates seamlessly between playful and sorrowful, guiding the audience as her inner voice crescendos, driving her deeper into guilt before ultimately offering a generous portrait of her father and the man he was.
Kris Killed Pop leaves audiences laughing while reflecting on responsibility and the stories we carry. Clever, musically brilliant, and absurdly funny. Let’s just say this show doesn’t stink.
You can catch Kris Killed Pop until Sunday 24th at Just the Attic at Just the Tonic at The Mash House from 21:20 (60mins). Tickets are available through the EdFringe Online Box Office.
Jasmine Silk
Phoebe Bakker
