Julia McDermott in Weather Girl [Pamela Raith Photography]

IN Brian Watkins’ bittersweet solo play, Stacey (Julia McDermott) is a California weather girl. Perfectly made up with a mane of blonde hair, clothed in a tight pink skirt, red blouse and heels, she’s resolutely upbeat, while wildfires rage and a house is burning behind her.

We learn that Stacey’s calm exterior hides an inner torment. Her flask is full of Prosecco, sometimes vodka, and her estranged mother is a homeless addict. We watch Stacey go on a drunken date with a man whose name she can’t remember and whose car she later trashes.

Before she’s gone to bed it’s time to get up again to deliver her early morning weather report. And all the while, there’s the stench of smoke and a relentless heat as California burns. But Stacey is not allowed to alert or depress her audience.

When Stacey reconnects with her mother in a karaoke bar, something in her begins to shift and she resolves to confront everything she’s been avoiding about the earth’s catastrophic future.

Over 60 minutes we go from laugh-out-loud funny to stunned silence. Watkins’ tragi-comic monologue reminds us of the wilful disregard of the climate crisis and its terrifying consequences.

The blank, unutilised screens in Isabella Byrd’s set are slightly puzzling, but her lighting is evocative, transporting us from a TV studio to restaurant, parking lot and night club.

McDermott, who has already wowed audiences at Edinburgh Festival Fringe 2024, gives a supercharged and pitch-perfect performance as Stacey. Her comic timing is impeccable.

Slickly directed by Tyne Rafaeli, Weather Girl is timely, but Watkins’ script feels a little sketchy in places and might have benefited from further development for its London run.

Until April 5
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