From the moment the audience enters to the sound of live piano, the tone is set with confidence and care. This is not a static sequence of speeches but a true variety performance in the richest sense, weaving together around fifteen distinct pieces that stretch far beyond the traditional idea of a monologue. There is dancing, sketch comedy, music, diary readings, puppetry, and more, with transitions that feel seamless and a structure that has clearly been shaped with precision under the direction of Lisa Anne Morrison and producer Lulu Braunstein.
What binds these varied forms together is the authenticity of the voices. Many of the stories feel deeply rooted in lived experience, giving the evening a raw, personal edge that never tips into self-indulgence. Instead, it invites the audience in. The opening moments are anchored by June Ballinger, whose portrayal of an older woman reflecting on a lifetime of silence around menopause is warm, funny, and quietly profound. She returns throughout the evening, creating a gentle throughline that connects generations and grounds the wider narrative.
That humanity is key. The production moves across cultures, ages, and perspectives, highlighting how menopause has been shaped by silence in different ways. Whether through the lens of religion, family expectation, or cultural taboo, the recurring message is clear without ever feeling didactic: this is something that has long gone unspoken, and it shouldn’t be.
What makes the show particularly effective is its ability to balance that message with theatrical invention. A standout sequence from Julie Prud'Homme begins as an almost absurd comedy sketch, a chaotic audition for a “crazy cat lady,” before gradually revealing something far more personal and vulnerable. The piece builds towards its climax through a live painting created on stage by Claude Winn, transforming the character’s outward eccentricity into a powerful act of self-reclamation. What starts as broad, high-energy comedy becomes an unexpectedly moving exploration of body image, surgery, and reconnecting with identity, making it one of the most memorable moments of the evening.
Elsewhere, Yukie Fujimoto delivers a striking interpretive dance that captures what words cannot, while the evening closes with a beautifully judged use of puppetry from Carrie Vanhouten, who is also the creator of the show, bringing the piece to a gentle and affecting conclusion.
At nearly two hours, the show could feel long, but it rarely does. The constant variation keeps the audience engaged, and the careful ordering of pieces ensures a natural rhythm. By the time the cast returns for a final musical moment, there is a strong sense of collective experience, not just among the performers but shared with the audience.
Importantly, the impact extends beyond the stage. A post-show discussion featuring a medical professional underscores just how underexplored menopause remains, even within healthcare. It reinforces what the performance has already made clear: this is not just a topic for women, but a human issue that affects families, relationships, and society at large.
There is also a clear historical resonance that gives the production an added layer of significance. The Vagina Monologues famously premiered at the same venue nearly thirty years ago before going on to become a global phenomenon, performed in over 140 countries and evolving into something far bigger than a single show. Watching this production, it is difficult not to feel echoes of that moment. The same sense of breaking silence, the same blending of humor and honesty, and the same potential to spark conversation beyond the theatre walls are all present here.
What’s striking is that, even today, the subject matter feels just as urgent. In many ways, the conversation around menopause is even less developed, less funded, and less understood. That gives this show a real sense of purpose, and perhaps even the potential to grow into something larger than itself. It has the foundations of a movement, not just a performance.
What’s most impressive is how accessible it all feels. Even for those who may feel removed from the subject matter, the humor, honesty, and creativity make it compelling throughout. It invites conversation rather than prescribing it, encouraging audiences to take what they’ve seen and continue it elsewhere.
A confident, compassionate, and consistently engaging piece of theatre, this is a production that entertains as much as it enlightens, and one that may well have a life far beyond this initial run.
We highly recommend seeing this wonderful show and are giving it 5/5 Ds (D D D D D)
If you are quick you may be able to grab ticket for the extra performance added due to exceptional demand on Sunday May 3rd. More information and tickets here: https://here.org/shows/the-menopause-monologues/
Monologues (in order of appearance):
The Ovaryture – Beverly Jane Peatross
Wise Woman #1 – June Ballinger
The No Bloods – Jen Brown
Dragon Rider – Lou Thornton Keating
Hot Flash – Alina Phelan
Bite Me – Amy Segal
Menopause Olympics – Asha John
Swag Bag – Julia Prud’homme
Still Here – Claude Winn
Fanny – Alina Phelan
Wise Woman #2 – June Ballinger
Cycles – Yaya Seals
Another Puberty – Jenn Bockoch
Camp Coochie – Amy Keating Rogers
¿Menopausia? – Cecilia Granda
The Squirrel – Debbie Millman
Strange Flower – Yukie Fujimoto
Estie My Bestie – Lulu Braunstein
Peri of the Pause of Meno – Kirsten Vangsness
Wise Woman #3 – June Ballinger
Straight from Caroline’s Lips – Carrie Vanhouten
Production and Design Team
Set Designer - John Ivo Gilles
Lighting Designer - Abigail Wells
Sound Designer - Rebecca Kessin
Costume Coordinator - Heidi Gilles
Projection Designers - Carrie Vanhouten and John Ivo Gilles
Crew and Technical Support
Stage Manager - Alina Novotny
Video Programmer - Rebecca Kessin
Light Programmer - WhimZee Hanna
Public Relations - Emily Owens
Audio/Visual/Projector Tech - Aidan Sturgeon
Video/Projector Tech - M Garacoia
Lighting Tech - Jimmy Dewhurst
Lighting Tech - Sara Mulder
Set Build/Carpenter - Ryan Tumulty
Set Build/Carpenter - Henry Vanhouten