Phoebe Potts, who stars in her one-woman show, Too Fat for China, at the Gorton Theatre. Anne Rearick photograph
Balancing between stand-up routine and psychiatrist’s session, Phoebe Potts’ one-woman show, “Too Fat for China,” makes its debut now through Dec. 1 at East Gloucester’s Gorton Theatre.
“Too Fat for China” would simply be hilarious if it weren’t also so grim. Potts, building a sequel to her graphic novel about infertility, “Good Eggs,” examines the nasty business of human adoption.
It’s ugly. Along her blithely bittersweet path she discovers the price list: $24K black boy, $27K black girl, $40K any white child. Adopting a baby is mostly a white privilege, for those who can afford it. She’s “too fat for China”—no explanation needed. She travels to Cincinnati to acquire a newborn, only to give up in the presence of the birth mother’s family, and a wash of bureaucratic nonsense. It’s a sad story, sometimes too sad to listen to.
Potts delivers it all with clear-eyed optimism, and never self-pities. She wants a baby, and persists, but she’s not blind to her own advantages. And she’s certainly not blind to the adoption process and its evils. This is the baby-selling business, after all.
Witty, rapid patter, mike-in-hand, casual clothes—“Too Fat for China” looks like a stand-up routine. Her character is funny and upbeat, constantly self-examining. But this isn’t just a laugh-along.
It’s a well-crafted manuscript, tight, idiomatic, with clever language. No filler, no clichés. Her delivery is smart and brisk. Potts was often funnier than she thought, not pausing long enough to let laugh lines percolate. One of the most pregnant pauses came when she momentarily lost her own narrative thread. The uncomfortable silence felt appropriate.
A few stories—the disastrous Cincinnati experience, her anticipated conversations with her adopted son—get nicely boxed in. She teases them over and over, creating genuine suspense within the longer narrative. When the details get revealed, those stories feel like our story too.
Not all of the stories-within-a-narrative fit perfectly. Her humorous take on growing up in Brooklyn—“crazy East River love”—works well as an intro. But her long diversion about how she got “fat”—as she puts it, leading to the title of the show—works less well.
And at the end, the delicately dark narrative turns too sweet, too fast. After finally bringing home her Ethiopian baby, Potts climbs a stage riser and sings “At Last.” This story has been too rich, too deep and too dark for such a simple ending. But Potts certainly deserves it.
Phoebe Potts’ one-woman play “Too Fat for China” runs through Dec. 1 at the Gorton Theatre. Call 978-281-4433 or visit gloucesterstage.com.