I'm Not Pale, I'm Dead

Ghosts have a lot in common with the theatre. Both have the privilege (or handicap) of regarding life from the outside. Lydia Nicholson's one-woman show uses this perspective to unite both conditions, with enjoyable if sometimes unsatisfying results.

Nicholson portrays the ghost of a young woman who has generally made her peace with the changeless aspects of the afterlife (as she explains with some annoyance, the clothes you die in are what your spirit will wear for eternity), but has more difficulty coping with how those she left behind have (or haven't) moved on. Taking advantage of the fact that the audience can unexpectedly see her spectral form—a phenomenon which is never explained—Nicholson gives some firsthand advice for effectively navigating life after death, reflecting on the circumstances that led to her demise along the way.

The concept is not entirely original—from Beetlejuice to Being Human, pop culture is filled with similar spirit-world explorations—so the success of its execution depends on Nicholson. Fortunately, she can ably carry the show on her own. A natural storyteller, Nicholson is capable of humour that never feels forced, sadness that largely avoids sentimentality, and subtle yet revealing detail (by paying attention to the music references, audiences will be able to pinpoint exactly when Nicholson died).

The key to Nicholson's character isn't that she's a ghost, but that she's human. As such, when her presence starts to fade, the conclusions she leaves us with are a little predictable, but always relatable.