Susan knew immediately that once you’re fired as a clown, the only logical next step is to go into stand-up comedy. That same instinct told her that stand-up is one thing, but if you want to move into theater and find success, there has to be something more substantial to your material. There’s undeniable potential when an audience sits in front of you, their collective imaginations lying prone to your creative libido. The 2025 run of ROBERT WILL SHOW YOU THE DOOR opened to a room in full agreement: she took us on a ride from grade school to right now, and we watched her assume her natural place next to George Bailey—someone who looked for their life’s meaning in one place but found it somewhere entirely unexpected in Act Two.
In our last adventure with Susan, she shared the unicorn-instance force majeure that was the COVID pandemic. It picked her cute little career train up and set it down on a whole other set of tracks—a frustration that could’ve sent a lot of people spiraling into a lifelong, bitter spell. We’ve all seen it. Some of us have felt it firsthand.
Well, it turns out Susan’s Career Trajectories have a type. One of its exes? September 11th. Back in 2001, she was on the proverbial tarmac ready to taxi—or maybe even down at Cape Canaveral, settling in for T-Minus. After transitioning from stand-up to her more substantive one-woman show, PS 69, she was invited to her first Fringe Festival. Ironically, the same festival that had kept her at bay as a stand-up was now cracking its doors open for her theatrical work. Finally! The accolades, the bookings, the momentum she’d been grinding for were all coming together. Tours were booked, venues secured, posters printed, flights scheduled … well, all kinds of flights were scheduled, you know? Susan was about to embark on this adventure and fly straight into her life’s calling—but she was beat to impact.
But again, the takeaway here—aside from Susan’s wit, well-developed timing, strong physical performance, vulnerability, and range—is her resilience. We’re lucky she didn’t stray from her innate performer nature. Otherwise, her students would be the only audience enjoying her sets. Instead, she pulled up her big-girl spandex leotards and started making lemonade for us all.
By her second firing, you’ll be groaning at her misfortune and cheering for her small victories. By the end of ROBERT WILL SHOW YOU THE DOOR, which appears with delight like a nickel pulled from behind your ear, she’s brought the whole world right around and left you with a genuinely wholesome feeling in your belly. If she wasn’t such a tough character—her fearlessness likely coming from her long legs—you’d pity her. But her material and performance cut the scenarios she enacts to the storytelling (and comedic) bone. She’s playing a character who is active in her own life, and we get to see how, why, and when she’ll succeed and fail (by some Robert's standards).
Susan knew she needed to find substance to maximize the capabilities of this medium. By constantly taking writing classes to hone her innate skills and mold the dense, dynamic life she’s lived into digestible and funny scenes, she’s able to present someone exceedingly human to root for and cheer alongside.
She knows her way around a black box, though I don't know if she'd want us to ask around. Congratulations on your show, Susan. Well done and well deserved. Have a cigar—but smoke it outside so you don’t stink upyour goddamn uniform.
