Sam Morrison’s Sugar Daddy delves deep into the oh-so-relatable experience of being ‘an anxious, asthmatic, gay, diabetic, Jew’ who recently lost his partner of five years. With a narrative as complex as life itself, Morrison’s storytelling prowess shines, creating moments that resonate on a profound level.
Sugar Daddy is bittersweet. There is real joy in the sharing of Morrison’s relationship with Big Bear Johnathan even within the context of grief. It is risky to be such an open book about something so raw but Morrison skillfully weaves humour and heartache and there is a palpable honesty in his performance that pulls the audience in, making them feel like confidants in his journey.
Morrison is endlessly charming, immediately sharing with the audience as if we’ve all been friends for years, his giggles at his own jokes are endearing and add to the joy of the piece. Throughout Sugar Daddy, Morrison manages to capture the essence of love and grief without resorting to clichés. There are no rose-tinted glasses here; the audience is confronted with the raw, unfiltered reality of loss. There is real poignancy in the sharing of such intimacy and there are as many lessons to be learned as there are laughs to be had.
Where the show sometimes falls flat is in its insecurities. The pacing gets off to a slow start, because of his low blood sugar Morrison tells us, which would have not detracted from the overall experience if Morrison didn’t seem overly concerned about it. For the first half an hour, he barely makes it through a punchline without commenting on how big of a laugh it got, and how bit of a laugh it should have got. It’s just a little awkward and makes the performance feel like a small comedy club work in progress rather than a polished show, a year into its tour at a major London comedy venue.
Morrison also struggles to know when to translate things for his British audience and when to stick to the American script. This leads to clumsily translated jokes like a “Boots” pharmacy voicemail that relies on the failures of the American healthcare system existing in the UK (which thank God, for now, it doesn’t!) and Angels as women from Essex which obviously is a cultural touch point lost in translation. And then at other points, there are many references that assumedly American audiences have to hand but are lost on a Soho audience. Hopefully, with some more UK performances, Morrison may work out that we know what CVS is but Amber Alerts may not be the best punchline.
Although lacking finesse, Sugar Daddy offers something invaluable: a genuine, candid look at the complexities of life, death and love. It’s a reminder that life isn’t always smooth, but it’s in those rough edges and unexpected pauses that the most profound moments of connection can be found.
Runs until 28th October 2023
