Sam Morrison: The Blinders Are Off and It’s a Big GAY World

This season, the Lovelace Studio Theater at the Wallis Annenberg Center for the Performing Arts in Beverly Hills will play home to Sugar Daddy, a one-man show from comedian Sam Morrison about the unlikeliest of funny themes, death, and grief. The critically acclaimed show is both hilarious and heartfelt and details Sam’s romance with an older man he met in Provincetown. Jonathan, the love of his life, tragically died from COVID during the pandemic. Though it sounds heavy, it takes a lighter look into loss and exemplifies the power of love and laughter to work through grief.

For those of us who have lost loved ones, the initial grief response can be debilitating. And for those of us who lost loved ones to COVID, it is still unbelievable that some unknown virus could creep into our lives. Sam’s only way to work through his grief was to go to his roots, comedy.

That first grief response. Oof, it’s so personal and traumatizing. I really don’t know how to articulate that. I do remember just how disorienting it felt. I think for a little while it felt like my body was just catching up to my brain. And then my brain catching up to my body. And so on….

The show just kind of happened. As a comedian, I write about what I’m thinking and it honestly felt crazier to not talk about it onstage. So, I started doing grief material mostly as a coping mechanism (it still is, just different), and eventually, it all came together. I tried it for seven people at Pete’s Candy Store (in Brooklyn) and it felt like a grief group where I’m the only one who’s allowed to talk. The dream.

The show has become a critical success. Originally a hit at the 2022 Edinburgh Fringe Festival, it was extended three times at Off-Broadway’s SoHo Playhouse, receiving Outer Critics Circle and Off-Broadway Alliance nominations, and being heralded by The Daily Beast, The Guardian, The New York Times, and the list goes on. Was Sam surprised that a one-man show about his lover’s death would be such a hit?

Yes. Especially last year when it first took off at SoHo Playhouse I was like, “Where are these people coming from???” I hoped people would connect with it, but I’ve been truly surprised by how much it has resonated with audiences. The show has evolved as my own relationship with my grief has evolved – in that I’ve allowed it to change myself and others. The so many unique ways in how folks connected to it – their raw reactions and stories are such a big part of that. I do feel like grief is so uncomfortable but also ever-present that when you acknowledge it and open the space for people to talk about it, the floodgates open.

Sam has created Sugar Daddy to make grief surprisingly fun and bearable, with the belief that with laughter you can overcome the impossible. But having gone through it personally, how does he manage to relive that grief with each performance? Working through mental health is an ongoing process, how does he also deal with having to be the funny guy while his real emotions may not be matching?

For the most part, I LOVE doing the show. It’s a joy. I hope that comes across during the show. It’s very silly and very gay. It’s also not as heavy of a show as one might imagine. Yes, I’ll be telling a series of stories relating to grief but I’m still an immature, horny, catty man-child with an affinity for unnecessary lighting changes.

And the benefits from catharsis and personal grieving and ‘I get to share Jonathan with others’ places are really powerful. Any opportunity to share Jonathan with people in an authentic way, live, in person, is precious to me. But yes, there are times when I’m not in the right headspace. I try my best. Meditate. Connect to my purpose. I spend time with Jonathan in my head. Talk to him. I remind myself of the joy of being present on stage with an audience. I write out gratitude for the space to grieve and to play, for the audience’s time and attention, for the stage time to be a better performer, and to myself for writing this show.

Sam’s relationship with his queerness has been a journey, even throughout his early career and his beginning comedy days in Brooklyn.

I feel like I knew I was different right away, but the journey to get where I am today took a bit more self-realization and exploration. Coming out was a subtle, lengthy process for me and became much easier as I found my people and – as shown in Sugar Daddy – Provincetown, MA!

When I first started, I had big, beautiful blinders on, and don’t think I realized how homophobic the world was. As I started to perform outside of liberal bubbles I experienced a ton of homophobia. From other comedians sometimes, but mostly from drug tourists. I had to learn how to introduce myself in more hostile environments. I’ve always tried to perform for a wide array of audiences, but I really struggled, especially just out of college. I was a bit too insecure and defensive to thrive in those situations at first. It took a long time to learn how to approach the more hostile crowds with all the love and energy I give any other crowd. On the positive side, there’s a wildly talented and active queer comedy community in Brooklyn that virtually didn’t exist when I started seven years ago. It’s been so fun to watch the gays take over.

Not only does Sugar Daddy challenge dealing with grief, but it also challenges queer norms. He is unapologetic about his love of bigger, older men.

Since as young as I could remember I have only ever found myself attracted to fat old men (fatter and older than you’re imagining). Some can struggle with that, but I’ve tried my best to drop the guilt and justifications to those who question it. I love talking about it in the show because people always come up to me after and whisper, “Me too.” Makes me want to scream about it on stage is worthwhile.

The Los Angeles production is being directed by Stephen Brackett, who received a Tony Award nomination for A Strange Loop. After the show closes at the Wallis, it heads to Broadway. A long and successful journey from its first iteration at the Edinburgh Festival. The show has been in constant evolution.

The show is finally catching up to what I’ve always imagined it be in my head. I became a theatre gurl in college and a fan of solo shows even before then. I’ve always been interested in finding the line between theatre and stand-up from a narrative and emotional point of view as well as set, props, lights, and sound. My first two solo shows were both even more theatrical than Sugar Daddy with a combined budget of around $10. The show also went Off-Broadway when it was not even ten months old. Now I’m getting to realize some of the scenes closer to how I’ve always imagined them but haven’t been able to pull them off because of a lack of capital, creative team, and time to experiment. So, it’s just pretty friggin cool to get this opportunity and I’m having a ton of fun with it!

However, I just did a small work-in-progress presentation in Denver and after, went up to my friend who saw the Off-Broadway version and was like, “Isn’t it so different?” And he looked at me a little like I was crazy. Sometimes I forget how casual the stand-up process seems on the outside. But when you’re really perfecting a routine, changes that seem small to an audience might seem humungous to me. So come to the Wallis and see for yourself!

In addition to his stage success, he earned the title of New Face at the 2023 Just for Laughs Festival, he’s made his late-night television debut on Late Night with Seth Meyers, and he’s appeared on Comedy Central, The Drew Barrymore Show, Andy Cohen’s Watch What Happens Live, Tamron Hall, and more. As his presence grows, does he feel the pressure to limit or change his comedy to fit the pressures of social and political climates and cancel culture?

I think it changes so much depending on the context – who, when, what, and what platform the comedian has. Honestly in an ideal world, I believe comedy clubs should be a place where people should be able to say whatever they want in the name of comedy. I find a lot of audiences are hesitant and scared to laugh at the wrong thing, so they will overthink the jokes. For the punchline to really hit and elicit that completely impulsive instinct, you simply can’t be thinking that much. With live comedy, you need to have a high degree of trust in the performer, especially in a small comedy club environment. But then if you go on a podcast and say some crazy stuff and then “I’m just a comedian” that’s different. Context matters. I’ll just say the very brave take that I don’t like social media and most conversations there are bad (the crowd goes crazy).

Sam is now a proud resident of Los Angeles from the East Coast, just to head back to Broadway. With the continued critical and audience success of the show, there are probably a number of additional accolades waiting for Sam and the show. As far as the Los Angeles run goes, he says that any audience will be better than that one performance of Sugar Daddy he played to a non-English speaking audience. As if heading to Broadway wasn’t a big enough task for this comedian, he has other irons in the fire.

I’m writing a movie and have a new YouTube series where I go thrifting with other comedians. My wardrobe could always use some more sleeveless grandma blouses and that’s basically top of mind right now.

Sugar Daddy runs at the Wallis through October 13^th www.thewallis.org

For everything Sam, head to www.SamuelMorrison.com