Riki Lindhome: Dead Inside review – a gobsmacking comedy about fertility

Soho theatre, London The unassuming US comedian and musician turns her journey to motherhood into a witty, bittersweet and beautifully judged show

‘I know this show can be uncomfortable,” says Riki Lindhome, sat at her keyboard after a song about pregnancy loss. But if Dead Inside is never cosy viewing, it’s funny, entertaining and emotionally involving to a high degree. Hardened viewers of trauma-comedy, a staple of fringe festivals in recent times, may feel jaded at the prospect of “a one-woman musical comedy about my fertility journey”. Their faith in the form will be wholly refreshed by this American’s beautifully judged hour, chronicling her by turns sad, amusing and gobsmacking efforts to become a mother.

Something about the modesty of the undertaking is key: few autobiographical shows feel less “me, me, me”. Lindhome signs off most of her songs with a demure “that’s it”; the production values (right down to the disembodied hand sticking out of the wings to operate a bubble machine) are unassuming. Our host would, let’s face it, prefer not to be telling this story about frozen embryos, failed IVF, seven surgeries in one year, untimely relationship breakups and being classified as an “undesirable candidate” to adopt a child.