Meet Don Murphy. He’s an Irishman, an actor and a chicken. Follow his rise to fame into Hollywood, through a harrowing ketamine addiction, losing his beak in front of Reese Whetherspoon, rehab as he reckons with his role in society as a rare chicken picked out to strut the boards as many other little chicks get ground up for nuggets.
What begins as a laughable concept—a one-woman show about an Irish chicken actor navigating Hollywood—quickly transforms into a chilling, thought-provoking exploration of oppression, cultural erasure, and the insidious nature of power structures. By the time the curtain falls, you’re not just watching a performance; you’re fully immersed in a world where chickens are more than just birds—they’re symbols of resilience, identity, and survival.
The word “chicken” is used relentlessly throughout the performance, and it’s impossible to ignore its double meaning. In this world, “chicken” isn’t just a noun—it’s a slur, a label, a weapon. It’s used to demean, to diminish, to remind Don and others like him of their place in a society that sees them as lesser. The irony of the word “chicken” as a synonym for cowardice is not lost here; it works very well. Don’s journey is anything but cowardly—it’s a fight for dignity in a world that constantly tries to strip it away.
The imagery is horrifying and intense, often veering into the surreal. Don's co-stars being cooked, and eaten, while Don is forced to pretend he’s fine with it because it’s “less competition.” These moments are gut-wrenching, a stark reminder of the brutality of the system Don is trying to navigate. He’s typecast in roles specifically for chickens, forced to conceal aspects of his chickenness to fit into a human-dominated world. He refuses to sleep with other chickens, favoring more humanoid companions, a choice that speaks volumes about his internalized shame and the pressure to assimilate. Yet, amidst the horror, there’s a strange beauty in the way Eva O’Connor brings Don to life. Her performance is nothing short of incredible. She moves with the stilted rhythm of a chicken, her beady eyes flicking with precision, her feathers rustling with every gesture. It’s a physical transformation that’s both mesmerizing and unsettling.
Eva O’Connor’s portrayal of Don is a masterclass in physical and emotional storytelling. She captures the tension between Don’s desire for acceptance and his struggle to hold onto his identity. The costume—a meticulously crafted chicken suit—becomes an extension of her performance, every flick of a feather or tilt of the head adding layers to Don’s character. It’s unexpectedly and unbelievably brilliant.
What begins as a laughable concept—just listen to the audience’s initial reaction when Don introduces himself—quickly draws you into its universe. By the end, you’re completely absorbed, seeing the world through Don’s eyes. The show’s brilliance lies in its ability to balance absurdity with profundity, humour with heartbreak. It’s a story about survival, about the cost of success in a world that demands conformity, and about the courage it takes to reclaim your identity in the face of erasure.
It’s a call to question the systems we take for granted and to recognize the humanity—or chickenity—in us all. And it’s a reminder that even in the face of unimaginable odds, there’s power in strutting your stuff, beak held high.
Recommended drink: Some kind of almond milk milkshake. This show is exactly the kind of thing that makes you want to go vegan.
Catch Chicken at the Yurt @ the Courtyard of Curiosities until March 9th at 20:00. Tickets available on the Adelaide Fringe website.