Writer: Ronnie Larson
Director: Gerald Armin
The unnamed, titular monologuist at the heart of Ronnie Larson’s Grindr Mom is a well-meaning Mormon Republican in Los Angeles who tries to maintain a connection with her gay, atheist, Democrat son, Joseph. While neither of them has talked about Joseph’s sexuality with his father – an even more devout Mormon who, while not being abusive, is known to have anger issues – mother and son do talk about his life, albeit in hushed tones, even when the father is out of earshot.
When Joseph tells his mother that he has met a potential life partner online, it leads her down an eye-opening exploration into the world of apps for gay men, and one particular app in particular. Initially discovering more about location-based hookup app Grindr in an effort to understand her son better, she ends up creating a fake profile and stalking her local neighbourhood, shocked to discover how many gay men exist all around her.
Larson’s script feels dated in places, especially with Mom’s discussion about how her faith meant she could not bring herself to honour her son’s request to vote against Proposition 8, a 2008 California ballot referendum that sought to ban same-sex marriage. Some other discussions of online technology, however brief, similarly place the play in the hinterland, where it is not quite old enough to become a period piece, nor yet timeless enough to feel truly contemporary.
But that timelessness sits well with the character of Mom herself, whose neat clothes and pearl necklace, combined with her obeisance to her husband, exude traditional values even as she tries to engage with the modern world. And it is Mom’s character, with all her contradictions, that really stands out here, thanks mainly to Jessica Martin’s warm and witty performance.
Martin handles the overtly comedic aspects of the script well, especially when she is discovering some of the gay and drug slang used in some men’s Grindr profiles. There is a sadness, too, to her character’s monologue, from describing the loss of her first two children – both of whom died at birth – to the realisation that the large family her husband hoped for would never arrive and that, with just the one gay son not out to his father, the chance of being surrounded by grandchildren at Christmas would never materialise.
There is a meandering start to the whole piece: one is not entirely sure if Mom’s method of repeating key points about her story is intentional or a misstep by the performer. If they are the latter, Martin certainly makes them feel like a natural, character-driven series of loops and diversions. Even then, it takes some time for the work to even bring up the topic of Grindr and for the monologue’s main plot points to commence.
Mom’s initial surprise at the number of men on the app in close proximity to her, even at Temple, provides some amusing moments that Martin mines well. The script takes darker turns as the character starts investigating and even replying to some of the men online. Her behaviour becomes increasingly worrisome as she seems intent on outing members of her Church who might be on the app, later extending her obsession into the world and even into the school where she volunteers.
In these sections, where her character effectively threatens to out closeted men for no reason other than that she knows they use Grindr, Martin keeps the tone as light and playful as possible, disguising some of the worst traits of Mom’s behaviour. There are small flickers of self-awareness in the character, but that still does not stop her from effectively catfishing a teenager and luring him to a date. While their conversation ends up being cathartic for both, one can’t shake the feeling of ickiness left unaddressed by her behaviour.
There is a suggestion that this encounter with a teenager, whom she is able to counsel and converse with in ways she could never manage with her own son, is heading towards a family rapprochement of sorts. The ending, instead, veers towards a darker, albeit equally predictable, path. Even to the end, Martin sells her role perfectly, giving Grindr Mom a sheen of warmth and intimacy that the script alone does not deserve.
Runs until 1 March 2026
