Part exorcism, part group therapy (you’re likely to relate), Tom Moran’s personal struggles are candidly recalled and shared in the age old manner of charismatic Irish storytellers. The actor moves from bright stage light, asking us to “make some noise” if we’ve had a similar experience (New York audiences are not vocally responsive) to a spot-lit standing microphone when memories wrench.
“Could everyone here please find me funny and charming?”
Thirty-one and fit, Tom was once extremely overweight. Curiously, his loving parents said or did nothing to effect better health. When he frequently declared himself sick, “mam didn’t question it. I think she thought I needed the break.”
The single occasion he was marched to the doctor complaining of stomach pain, Tom inadvertently chose the area of his appendix. When an ultrasound scan that penetrated bellies of pregnant women was not readable through his fat, he had a revelation about size. Rather than admit deception, the boy let them take his out. “I’d rather risk an organ than have you think badly of me.”
Young Tom developed a well honed capacity to exaggerate and lie in order to be universally liked. He was a self described “goody two shoes” in school and at church, always “a pleasure to teach… On awards day it was like cardio, up and down to accept.” He played soccer, was on the student council…excelled. The hero regales us with incidents of twisting encounters to his advantage, of garnering credit when none was due, of falsehoods creating consequences for others, sympathy for himself.
He repeatedly told his parents he loved them in case they disappeared. Mam would respond in kind. Da’s love language was not words. Only after 2/3 of the monologue do we learn of serial incidents that would’ve made him feel insecure. Disclosure comes too late. Either there were other factors or these should be woven into the piece earlier.
By 21, Tom had lost the weight, attended drama school in Chicago, and acquired his first therapist. “I have this fantasy my therapist thinks I’m really good at therapy.” Alcohol abuse came and went. He remained plagued. Did he even remember things accurately? Mam would know. Parenting issues are raised. Happily things work out.
The piece is earnest and well written, though eliciting audience response is the kind of tactic that might’ve worked at the Edinburgh Fringe, but not in theaters. Painful recollections come across clearly as does the performer’s surprise at good fortune. Tom Moran really does seem to want our approval.
Photos by Owen Clarke
First Irish and Irish Repertory Theatre present
Tom Moran Is A Big Fat Filthy Disgusting Liar
Written and Performed by Tom Moran
Through April 20, 2025
Irish Repertory Theatre
132 West 22nd Street
