At first glance Mike Albo’s Spermhood: Diary of a Donor, seems to be the kind of thing that Madonna and Rupert Everett made movies about in the early aughts; a single gay man donates sperm to his lesbian best friends, hilarity and heartbreak ensue. Unlike anything in the Queen of Pop’s filmography though, Mr. Albo’s autobiographical theatrical piece is filled with overflowing melancholy, as his impending, over-planned fatherhood forces him to reevaluate the choices he’s made along the way. He wonders if he’s ready to help create a child that will arrive to a planet filled with injustice, economic inequity and long-haired-male-pornstars. And yet, even describing the piece has a tone of corny Lifetime-ness to it, when the show itself is anything but that.
The one-man-show, energetically directed by David Schweizer, has Mr. Albo doing a live version of a Kindle single of the same name he released in 2015. If you have read the book, there are passages that were lifted directly from it which acquire new depths thanks to the comic’s delivery, making the show feel like more than just a “reading”. There’s been a line update here and there meant to make the show more timely and alive. You can hear echoing laughter as Mr. Albo names a list of pretend (or are they?) restaurants in a trendy neighborhood (“Crust” is epic), or when he recites achievements from snotty (or is it just proud?) parents who have the best children on earth.
The show’s central plot, mainly anecdotes that take place inside medical offices where Mr. Albo masturbated to cheesy straight porn, with the help of a certain Whitney Houston (you will never listen to “I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Who Loves Me)” the same way), is cleverly interwoven with stories about dating as a gay man in modern day New York, and also stories about how New York itself is always changing. Mr. Albo alludes to being in a Carrie Bradshaw-esque relationship with the city on a few occasions. But perhaps what’s most refreshing about the show is how unapologetically self-centered it is. Mr. Albo makes no claims whatsoever to Eat Pray Love-ing his way around any of his dilemmas, and having him expose his neuroses onstage is much more bruising and surprisingly satisfying than if we had to sit through a lecture on how the performer achieved nirvana.
This concentration on the self comes with a plethora of “bonuses” like the fact that it’s one of the shows that has addressed the AIDS crisis with as much honesty as rage in quite some time. Mr. Albo comments on how the sperm donation system is designed to celebrate heterosexuality at the expense of giving dignity to gay men. Commenting on how he’s made to feel like a “dirty gay whore” every time he shows up to the clinic is certainly funny, but is also a concept that haunts you long after the show has ended. Have we really advanced as much as we think when it comes to equality? Has gay marriage become another way of trying to hetero-convert gay men?
Mr. Albo owns up this unique take on fatherhood by also commenting on the privilege that his race provides him. He makes a hilarious point out of it by explaining how un-cool he is, “[I’m] a white gay male. I am fucked” he explains, adding how in the fringe of LGBT he’s “a basic bitch”. The Sagmeister-ian set design by Caleb Wertenbaker and the expressive lighting design by Rob Lariviere help create an environment in which Mr. Albo goes from being interrogated detective style, to crafting an urban playground where he can strut stylishly or “parkour” his way around inner demons and slow tourists. Raising more questions than it does answers Spermhood is a lovely reminder that the “childlike” notion of asking “why” about everything, might very well be a sign that we’re in a constant process of growing up.
