HA-LLELUJAH! HELP IS
JUST A “HA” AWAY

Julia Masli makes a slow, focused entrance onto the stage of the Anspacher Theater at The Public. Despite the surrounding moody blues, her face is lit by a pin spot attached to her arm. She pronounces “ha” in several different ways: drawn out, deliberate, hushed, questioned. She approaches an audience member as if recognizing them with a gasp, encouraging them to say “ha” back to her. Some only half-ass commit, and you can see the disappointment in her face. Sometimes rage! She may have an anger management problem, but it’s alleviated by destroying a wooden chair. Approaching audience members with another gasp of recognition begins the journey of her 80-minute solo piece HA HA HA HA HA HA HA. By the end, the performance art is no longer artsy-fartsy, but rather very clear why she’s earned critical acclaim across the globe — from Woolly Mammoth in D.C. to London’s Soho Playhouse, Melbourne’s Comedy Festival, and the Edinburgh Fringe. No spoiler alerts here because no two shows are alike. Each performance is driven entirely by audience response.

Masli appears otherworldly, wrapped in a bizarre costume co-designed by Alice Wedge, Annika Thiems and David Curtis-Ring. A headpiece of wires, gadgets, and a soft-blue torchlight scans the crowd as needed. A bare leg peeks through a slit in her outfit, but a protrusion at the waist suggests something alien — an exterior organ, perhaps? Her left arm is a golden leg, complete with shoe and embedded microphone, which she plants in front of an audience member and utters one word — “Problem?” — waiting patiently for an answer, this becomes the core of the show, and her responses — the heart.

And the problems come. One person doesn’t feel fulfilled at work — Masli hires her on the spot, gives her a desk, and sets her up onstage. A man complains about bad knees — Masli asks the new employee to Google a cure. A woman has a problem with her parents’ underwhelmed reaction to a recent award — Masli has her choose a surrogate parent from the audience, then coaches the stranger in a heartfelt congratulations that brings the whole theater to cheer. A dancer in need of funds is encouraged to write her Venmo on the wall, and Masli urges the audience to send her $5 each. Another woman is damp from the rain — Masli finds a fan and enlists a neighbor to hold it, directly on her.

Then comes deeper wounds: a man unequipped to face his aging parents. A woman haunted by the collapse of democracy. Masli listens, processes, and improvises sincere and often absurd responses, yet all well intended and heartfelt. In the latter case, she selects a man to embody the burden of our collective sins and cowardice, and has him take a shower onstage to symbolically cleanse the world. It’s ludicrous yet a touching climax.

Despite the title, this isn’t stand-up. Masli is not here to make jokes; she’s here to solve problems. And without a single punchline, she makes the audience laugh, cheer, and ache for more. One audience member’s problem was that she didn’t want the show to end. Masli’s accent (Estonian, perhaps, where she’s from, mixed with British, as she’s based in London) adds a layer of mystery. Her physical eccentricity and deadpan sincerity make her hilarious without trying to be.

When one man claimed to have no problems, she pulled him onstage, and they danced in circles with delight — then she escorted him out of the theater. “This is a show for people with problems. Go on. Be free.” Each time he snuck back inside, she removed him again. Even this running bit became strangely tender.

The atmosphere is heightened by sound designer Alessio Festuccia and improviser Sebastian Hernandez, who records and later plays back moments from the show, offering an audio time capsule of the performance. Lighting by Lily Woodford, executed live by Sarah Chapin, with surprises throughout, adds yet another improvisational layer. Directed by Kim Noble, the structure may appear spontaneous, but the show’s rhythm suggests a refined evolution shaped by trial, error, and deep trust.

What’s remarkable is how well Masli handles the audience. With her calm and grounded guidance, each audience member shares, confesses, and plays. And how generously Masli responds. What begins as a piece of avant-garde absurdity slowly reveals itself as something quietly profound. The final feeling is one of warmth and collective humanity. I left not just entertained but strangely healed and already hoping to return for another round of HA HA HA HA HA HA HA — performance art at its best.

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photos by Joan Marcus

Goddess
The Public Theater, Anspacher Theater, 425 Lafayette Street
80 minutes, no intermission
Tues-Sun at 7:30, except Sat at 7 & 9
ends on June 22, 2025
for tickets, call 212.967.7555 or visit The Public

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Gregory Fletcher is an author, a theater professor, a playwright, director, and stage manager. His craft book on playwriting is entitled Shorts and Briefs, and publishing credits include two YA novels (Other People’s Crazy, and Other People’s Drama), 2 novellas in the series Inclusive Bedtime Stories, 2 short stories in The Night Bazaar series, and several essays. Website, Facebook, Instagram.