Would you mind giving us an insight into what your show/event/performance is?
Michael John Ciszewski: MOTHER, SUPERIOR is a sacrilegious, silly, sweet new solo show in which I petition God and the Vatican to canonize my (living) mother as a literal saint in an hour—of comedy!—in an attempt to finally make her proud of her big gay comedian son. To maximize my chances at getting the Big Guy to answer this Big Gay, I am doing this at a literal church (Bedlam Theatre), every day at 14:00 (vaguely church time), before an audience—er, congregation!—of supporters and witnesses. On our collective journey towards my mother’s sainthood, I hope to answer the existential question that keeps us all awake at night: would our parents rather we book a Netflix special, or simply return their calls?
Tell us about the creative team and the process involved?
Well, my name is in front of the title—a very flattering decision (made by me)—so I suppose that communicates my involvement in the thing as writer/performer/ass clown. Can I say ‘ass clown’ in your fine publication, Mr. Corr? If not, how’s ‘butt demon?’ Let me know!
I am privileged with the direction of Noah Simes (SH!T-FACED SHAKESPEARE) and production management of Brian Dudley, both of whom return with me to the Fringe after collaborating on my last hour IF MEMORY SERVES, which we brought to the Fringe in 2024 to a handful of very nice reviews and one list that ranked our show two spots higher than Miriam Margoyles. She is not on my creative team, but since then, ranking higher than her on lists has become a guiding creative force behind all I do, so I thought I’d include her here and also never let her live that down. (As of publication, she does not know I exist.)
MOTHER, SUPERIOR is a theatricalizing of lots and lots of stand-up and storytelling generated across comedy sets I performed as soon as I returned from the Fringe in 2024. IF MEMORY SERVES was my take on a straightforward stand-up comedy hour, and while I so relished building that show from a decidedly restrained set of comic structures and performance dynamics, I wanted to pursue something far more liberated in response as I crafted its follow-up.
Audiences have always gotten a kick out of my discussing my (close but still totally normal—and, may I add, attractive to men) relationship with my extraordinary mother, Sophie. So, from my recollections of growing up in a single-parent household, her career as an HIV/AIDS nurse, and our navigating the parent-queer child relationship, we build this highly theatrical, romp in which I desperately try to do her justice by not just calling her a saint but making her one.
It’s got elements of game show throughout where I am trying to appease the demands of Vatican middle management played by (the voice of) genius comedian Gianmarco Soresi, with whom we recorded the silliest and spiciest meatball Italian performance back in June. His voice work on the show is exclusive to this summer’s shows, and it’s been such a blast cheating the ‘solo show’ thing by getting to play with him and my audience throughout.
I believe wholeheartedly we’ve built our best work yet, and I cannot wait to share its heart and homosexual hilarity with audiences.
How does it feel coming to (back to) the Fringe?
I am thrilled to be returning with my shoulders a few centimeters lower than they were during our 2024 run. They’re still firmly hoisted around ear level—I’m an American comedian, we arrive with a baseline level of anxiety about saying the quiet part out loud by calling them ‘toilets’—but I’m much less tense and far more excited.
The Fringe is such a terrifying beast the first year, as you’re just trying to survive. You throw yourself into the festival, foisting flyers on unsuspecting strangers like a desperate Victorian newspaper boy and hoping someone you don’t get hissed at. Nevermind actually converting a flyering to a ticket sale. And that’s before you even attempt to convert a flyer to a ticket sale. That requires an actual miracle—which may explain why I’m returning with a show where I talk to God.
This time, I feel we understand the ecosystem a bit better. We’ve learned how to slaymaxx the Fringe experience, if you will, and how to create a real return on the significant investment artists make to participate—especially those of us crossing an ocean to be there.
I like to think of my Fringe journey in the tradition of American bands like The Strokes, Interpol, or—finally, a gay one—Scissor Sisters coming to the UK and finding their audience. I love that particular cultural exchange: Americans arriving with an overly specific artistic identity and the British deciding whether to make them cool. Obviously, I’m not comparing myself musically. They had guitars, iconic albums, and the superpower to make emotional austerity look sexy; I have a biological need to see my face on a poster above a urinal and an embarrassingly sincere love for my mother.
With shows from all over the world at the Fringe, what sets yours apart?
It’s a comedy show disguised as a religious ceremony disguised as a love letter to my mother—which made choosing a Fringe programme category a bit of a nightmare. There are thousands of shows about difficult childhoods; mine is about the deeply suspicious gay experience of having an actually wonderful mother. I’ll also confidently claim that MOTHER, SUPERIOR is the only show at the Fringe where analingus is used as a tool for theological inquiry. I believe that makes it both a comedy show and a contribution to religious scholarship.
On that, is there anything in the production or production team’s backgrounds which influences the way the show is performed or told?
Oh, we’re all gay—very, very, capital-G Gay. And while that naturally means MOTHER, SUPERIOR is a filthy gay comedy hour, it also speaks to the warmth, silliness, and deep sentimentality that runs through every joke and story. It’s a show about a life built around choosing love—love that isn’t limited by the expectations or narratives we inherit from society.
As RuPaul famously said, “As gay people, we get to choose our family.” I find family in my audience and my creative community, but I’m also lucky enough to find it with my literal, biological mother. And that wasn’t accidental. We built that. We cultivated that.
If I may be so bold, I think I taught my mother something very queer: that we don’t have to accept the stories handed down to us. We get to write our own. We get to decide what our relationships look like, what our families look like, and what our lives look like.
Which is how you end up with—to pick a completely random example—a one-hour comedy canonization solo gameshow existential crisis featuring Gianmarco Soresi doing his best “spiciest meatball” Italian accent. That’s the beauty of queerness: the freedom to create something nobody asked for but that somehow feels completely necessary.
Is there anything specific you’re hoping the audience will take away?
My Instagram handle.
And a renewed belief in the power of faith—specifically, faith in queer comedy created and performed by a blonde American gay guy who loves his mother very, very much and is probably due a breakthrough career moment any minute now.
OK. SERIOUSLY—I hope audiences leave wanting to tell the people they love how they feel about them. They don’t even have to tell God. They don’t have to wait for a crisis, a funeral, or a miracle. Just tell them. That’s the whole point.
Your Ideal audience is in attendance, who’s watching? Or more importantly – who isn’t…?
God and representatives from all major streaming services.
Oh, and hot people with big, huge, throbbing hearts. xx
It’s an intense month, so where you’re able, how do you plan to relax, and are there any other shows you intend to see or want to recommend?
Well, my aforementioned production manager Brian is also my partner, so we will probably spend our downtime bickering. We’ve been together eleven years and both find it incredibly relaxing to go positively Virginia Woolf on each other’s asses over every missed cue and flubbed line.
Likewise, I intend to see my surprisingly-not-gay scene partner Gianmarco Soresi’s THEATER ADULT, divine Nathaniel Jones’ divine 2 BY 2, the genius Frank Murdocco’s world premiere solo drama SUBLIMATION, and gorgeous Alexis Sakellaris’ new work-in-progress CHILD STAR.
Otherwise, I am excited to eat at Maki & Ramen, hang out at my favorite coffee spot Cult Coffee, and catch up with my local friend Stuart who loves pop music as much as I do.
Michael John Ciszewski: Mother, Superior runs at Venue 49, Auditorium at Bedlam Theatre
Runs: 7th -30th August at 14:00pm
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