Brighton Fringe 2026

Lilla Multipass: Woman (33)

Lilla Multipass

Genre: Absurd Theatre, Clown, Comedy, One Person Show, Theatre

Venue: Laughing Horse, Caroline of Brunswick

Festival: Brighton Fringe

Low Down

Review

“Welcome to therapy.”

Therapist says with a sterile calmness, standing in the centre of a raised platform stage at the top of the Caroline of Brunswick. She’s wearing a pair of spectacles with a chain that hangs loosely around her neck, a subtle yet key indicator that Therapist probably lives in oversized cardigans and drinks too much herbal tea.

This is the only prop that differentiates Woman from Therapist throughout the dramatic monologue-meets-existential-clown-show that is ‘Woman (33)’.

Through frantic movement and unnerving direct eye contact, Lilla Multipass balances the vulnerability and the mania behind why the IKEA bag is the millennial Birken Bag, why Pinterest shows how you’re drawing your bath wrong – “I don’t have the wooden thing” -, and why women in their thirties go to therapy.

As an audience, you’re welcomed into a dimly lit seating area accompanied by 2000s pop hits: Natasha Bedingfield’s ‘Unwritten’, and Avril Lavigne’s ‘Complicated’ sets an amusing scene before the show even starts.

Lilla, I notice, is watching us filter in at the side of the staged area, singing along in a millennial-grey waistcoat and trousers, softly dancing to the music as if she were dancing in the kitchen. It’s like you’re already in the skit, and unsure of what’s to come from this welcoming, yet unnerving, woman in front of you.

This feeling never leaves throughout Woman (33) as Lilla flits between Woman and Therapist, the performance a continuous 4^th wall-breaking conversation to the audience. It seems that the anxiety of living a “free-range, fibre-optic, organic lifestyle” weighs too heavily on Woman, because who can really have the most tote bags to “take down the patriarchy” or win the Power Hunger Games in the office?

Lilla’s tongue-in-cheek commentary combined with the bluntness and unapologetic nature of Eastern European dialect is hilarious: “Is this bath self-care, of is it just getting wet?” Similarly, her use of music to reflect humour in the day-to-day scenes like the commute – Disturbed’s ‘The Sound of Silence’ – versus the office – Britney’s ‘Work Bitch’ – is received well.

One moment in the performance that was a gem of genius was the witty analysis of the Girls’ WhatsApp Group Chat. Therapist chimes in to acknowledge the hypocrisy of simultaneous connection online & isolation in real life, and it’s true. As women, we’re all hyping each other up online but can’t commit to plans unless they’re three weeks in advance.

Lilla demonstrates the ridicule of it all wearing a golden cape, singing angelic affirmations in A Capella, repeating a husky “You got this!” to audience members as she towers over the poor soul who has been enveloped in the golden drapes. A cocoon of pressured encouragement, Woman will not leave until you believe in yourself!

Lilla Multipass’ has an astute awareness of the hypocrisy of modern life. She can ridicule the insecurity and anxiety in a therapist’s office through humour, and demonstrates excellent audience participation that feels both positively awkward and exposing. This performance truly shows how a vivid imagination on a shoe-string budget can make a hidden gem in a sea of Fringe. A couple of moments when the performer’s dialogue was briefly missed from some pre-recorded material, but this comes down to the ever-evolving nature of a work-in-progress.

With a cardboard box, a stool and a dream, you too can be in IKEA, a bath, a womb, an office, and a train on a Saturday afternoon, questioning the purpose of your 30s with a room full of strangers on the brink of running out the door, but rooted to stay for more. Woman (33) has serious potential to be a hit at the Edinburgh Fringe, where Lilla will be taking it in August 2026. Don’t miss it.

Published May 18, 2026 by Megan Bell