No, it’s not one of the pop queens in Six—it’s Cat Cohen in her autobiographical solo musical, Broad Strokes.
Comedian and stroke survivor Cat Cohen named her solo show Broad Strokes for the puns, but the titular phrase may be more appropriate in another, unintended sense. Cohen tells her story in such broad strokes that, while she succeeds in making her serious medical condition funny, the lack of depth and detail makes it seem not that serious.
Clocking in at just over an hour, Broad Strokes presumably centers on the stroke that Cohen, who is about to turn 35, suffered three years ago. But, just as much, it’s a showcase for her personality and for her performance style: interweaving original songs and stand-up comedy.
Cohen’s costume was designed by Kelsey Randall, who has created outfits for Taylor Swift and other music stars, including Lizzo and Lorde.
Though not mainstream-famous, Cohen—a veteran of the Edinburgh Fringe, Joe’s Pub, Netflix specials and podcasting—has already built an adoring fan base. And her show would probably be most appreciated by those already in tune with her heavily social media– and reality TV–influenced vernacular, her girlish yet sexually frank brand of comedy and the viral trends she frequently name-checks (Baggu bags, the Rhode phone case and “unalive,” among them).
With Broad Strokes, the comedian reaches a new audience, Off-Broadway theatergoers, and she’s included plenty of non-stroke-related autobiography to bring them up to speed. Cohen has also invested in theater cred, via a creative team that includes director Alex Timbers and Tony-winning scenic designer Derek McLane and production values that are quite elaborate for what’s basically an extended stand-up routine.
McLane has draped the stage with voluminous purple velvet curtains and placed a large Gothic window upstage and a throne for Cohen to sit on approximately center stage. She is swathed in purple as well, wearing a Tudor-style bodice gown (designed by Kelsey Randall) that has puffy, lace-up sleeves and is bubble-hemmed above the knees.
Multiple chandeliers are splayed on the floor of the stage, and a couple of them hang from above. There’s also a disco ball suspended from the ceiling just offstage right. On this set that looks like something out of Masquerade, Cohen—looking like someone out of Six—opens her show with a song called (like something out of Sweeney Todd) “By the Sea.”
About two-thirds of Broad Strokes’s script is filled by songs Cohen wrote with David Dabbon, the leader of her onstage band. Their catchy but by no means extraordinary score starts with a few self-portraits, giving audience members a quick read on Cohen’s lifelong craving for attention and other people’s approval. Then she sings her way through her medical crisis, from emergency room (“I Don’t Claim This Energy”) to diagnosis (“Hypochondriac’s Anthem”) to surgery (“Normal Girl”).
Cohen had been packing for a trip to Europe—where she had shows booked throughout the summer—when her arm went limp one day in 2023. She took an Uber to the hospital and underwent an MRI. “It looks like you had a stroke anywhere from three months to eight years ago,” said the doctor who reviewed the imaging.
As a hypochondriac, Cohen says, having a stroke and learning she had a congenital heart condition made her feel “vindicated.” Photographs by Matthew Murphy.
Further tests confirmed she had a PFO, “a hole in your heart” that exists from birth. “Occasionally a blood clot can get through the hole in your heart and go to your brain, causing a stroke,” the doctor explained. Cohen had heart surgery to repair the PFO. It ended up curing her of migraines, which she’d suffered from since adolescence, and left her with no apparent speech or movement impairment.
“Honestly, within two weeks my body is completely fine,” Cohen says onstage, and a couple of minutes later, she’s singing her closing number. This abrupt conclusion typifies Cohen’s tendency to go light on personal introspection and on scientific background. She never says what PFO stands for, nor does she mention that it’s a fairly common yet often inconsequential condition. She makes no reference to how her recovery compares with those of other patients, or to how her parents and friends dealt with news of her potential health calamity.
As a result, Cohen’s ordeal seems surprisingly unworrisome. She gets some good jokes out of it—describing, for example, receiving her MRI results by text as “like when you’re talking shit about someone and you accidentally text it to them.” The humor related to her medical experience is much stronger than her bawdier bits about blowjobs, tampons and shaving her privates. And she goes to the “It’s giving…” well too much, as in “A stroke at 30. It’s giving ‘coastal grandmother’ aesthetic”—just one of the half-dozen times she uses the expression.
Audience members experiencing a Cohen performance for the first time might find Broad Strokes somewhat superficial. But for those who already know and love the comedian, it’s just what the doctor ordered.
Broad Strokes runs through Sept. 25 at Lucille Lortel Theatre (121 Christopher St.). Performances are at 7 p.m. Monday through Friday and 5 p.m. and 8:30 p.m. on Saturday. For tickets and information, visit lortel.org.
Book: Cat Cohen
Music & Lyrics: Cat Cohen and David Dabbon
Direction: Alex Timbers
Scenic Design: Derek McLane
Costume Design: Kelsey Randall
Lighting Design: Jake DeGroot
Sound Design: Cody Spencer
