Written by Conor O’Dwyer

Directed by Jen McGregor

Review by Dominic Corr

Assembly Roxy – Snug Bar

It seems all too easy to be a ‘bad person’ in someone’s eyes. A bad pal, a bad student, a bad son. But to be all of these and more in your own eyes is something else. Conor O’Dwyer’s Homo(sapien) is a gorgeous, riotous, gut-punching monologue that captures the queer coming-of-age experience with raw honesty and dark humour. O’Dwyer plays Joey, a self-described “Bad Gay™” (trademark pending), who’s never had sex and is determined to change that before he dies a virgin. Staged in the intimate Snug Bar at Assembly Roxy, the show is a strong demonstration in solo performance, blending stand-up, storytelling, and theatrical vulnerability into a sixty-minute whirlwind of religious guilt, sexual panic, and emotional catharsis.

O’Dwyer plays Joey, a self-described “Bad Gay™” (trademark pending), who’s never had sex and is determined to change that before he dies a virgin. Opening with Joey frozen at the threshold of a church, about to attend the funeral of his childhood friend Mary’s mother, there’s an immediate sense of control, weight, and attention to detail from the design work, scoring, and even the minimal set dressing. From this moment of paralysis, the narrative spirals into a confessional odyssey through Joey’s life in Galway, where internalised homophobia, fear of the local Hurling-team lads, and a crushing sense of inadequacy have shaped his identity.

The transitions between characters—Joey, Mary, childhood friend Michael, and a lusted-after teacher—are all individual, with O’Dwyer quickly finding their rhythm. His portrayal of Joey’s adolescent awakening is vivid and affecting, packed with moments of hilarity and heartbreak. A standout sequence sees Joey recounting his first crush on Michael, followed by a visceral memory of a young gay man’s murder in Dublin—a moment that shifts the tone from comic to chilling with deft precision. It’s life on the precipice – a fact all too many audiences continually forget; whose hand you’re holding could still result in your death.

What makes Homo(sapien) stand out is its refusal to fetishise queer trauma. There are no recycled tropes here; instead, Joey’s journey is one of survival, joy, and messy self-discovery. The climax—Joey returning to the church, covered in mesh, highlighter, and existential dread—is both absurd and deeply moving. Jen McGregor’s direction ensures the performance never veers into indulgence. The pacing is tight, and the emotional beats land with clarity. The minimal staging allows O’Dwyer’s physicality and voice to carry the show, and the lighting—subtle but effective—helps delineate shifts in time and tone.

If there’s a drawback, it’s that the show occasionally leans too heavily on exposition, but it’s a prerequisite for a sixty-minute one-hander. Elements could be revised for additional runs, with a more theatrical or visual metaphorical use to break up the monologue format. And while the humour is sharp, a few punchlines do rear themselves earlier the joke intends. A triumph of voice and vulnerability. O’Dwyer’s debut is a celebration of queer resilience, delivered with wit, rage, and tenderness. It’s a show that leaves you laughing, wincing, and—most importantly—smiling (even if through the tears).

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