CAT COHEN HAS A STROKE!
…OF COMIC GENIUS

She turns a terrifying brush with mortality into
a deliriously funny celebration of vanity, glamour and
making absolutely everything about herself

Cat Cohen in Cat Cohen: Broad Strokes at Lucille Lortel Theatre

Only Cat Cohen can turn a sudden, life-threatening neurological event into an evening in which the audience laughs almost continuously and springs to its feet in applause the moment she finishes. In Broad Strokes, her solo musical comedy running at the Lucille Lortel Theatre through late September, the talented actress takes the stroke she suffered at 30 and transforms it into 70 minutes of high-camp exhilaration.

On paper, the story is almost aggressively serious: a blood clot passes through a congenital hole in Cohen’s heart, reaches her brain, and suddenly mortality is no longer an abstract concept. Yet Cohen’s great trick is to remain gloriously, almost defiantly shallow. No teary testimonials about the meaning of life, no inventory of lessons learned, no inspirational montage; she gives us neurosis, vanity, sex, glamour, and jokes about the body, the very “shallow” things we are all familiar with. What Cohen really wants is not simply to have a life but to have a story, one with the narrative grandeur of a Victorian heroine. Even her teenage suffering gets promoted to plot, proof that she belongs to the venerable sisterhood of tortured, exceptional women.

Cat Cohen

It is an art to turn personal tragedy into comedy, and it is a particularly demanding one when you are alone onstage acting, singing, and dancing your way through the material. Cohen has mastered it in her own singular way. With the direction and visual panache of Alex Timbers, the production proves that there is something unexpectedly exhilarating about setting a stroke, an emergency-room admission, a freakish pre-op pubic shave, and open-heart surgery to outrageous lyrics, live music, and pounding synth-pop beats.

Music does more than accompany the songs: throughout the piece, the sparkling three-piece live band (with the help of Cody Spencer’s sound design) provides a running commentary of dynamic callbacks, sly accents, and fast stabs, shaped by gifted composer David Dabbon. The score pairs Cohen’s perfectly pitched classic-Broadway vocals with lyrics that are gloriously shameful. Some older theatergoers may find themselves wishing for a more familiar format, different songs, but the show speaks in the comic language of its millennial audience. Judging by the largely thirty-something crowd I saw it with, the message is received loud and clear, and the guffaws never lets up.

Cat Cohen

Cohen moves effortlessly between Victorian drama queen and modern pop diva, her shape-shifting persona framed by Derek McLane’s Gothic fantasia of flickering chandeliers, velvet drapery, a tracery window, and a high-backed throne. Plush velvet valances in deep violet and magenta frame the proscenium and upper portal, catching the light and giving the stage a sumptuous depth. Jake DeGroot’s lighting design heightens the fantasy with a cool palette of magenta, deep indigo-violet, saturated toxic green, and electric blue, creating a high-contrast, pop-concert atmosphere that is melodramatic and glamorous, while a tight overhead key light remains fixed on Cohen, cutting through the saturated background to isolate her. It all provides the perfect setting for Cohen’s sleek and comical costume by Kelsey Randall, a blend of Renaissance Faire royalty and hyperpop star, featuring a structured gold-and-purple lace corset with a Basque waist, dramatic puff-to-tapered sleeves, and a bubble mini-skirt.

Cat Cohen

Cohen’s relentless quest to remain the undisputed protagonist of her life, turning every inconvenience into supporting evidence, and her insistence on self-obsession aren’t merely comedic gimmicks but a thick psychological shield. By leaning into the absurdity of trying to look flawless in non-skid hospital socks, she uses humor to reclaim agency when her physical body is suddenly betraying her, a moment that makes all of us vulnerable and ridiculous.

Humans are extremely uncomfortable with randomness, so we turn disconnected events into stories. Cohen does something more elaborate: she is both the woman living the fantasy and the audience member heckling it from the seats. Instead of quietly enduring the indignities of life, she gets to become the woman everyone talks about. That, ultimately, is the payoff: make it funny, make it beautiful, and, for God’s sake, make it all about me.

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photos by Matthew Murphy

Cat Cohen: Broad Strokes
Lucille Lortel Theatre, 121 Christopher Street in New York City
Mon–Fri at 7; Sat at 5 & 8:30
ends on September 25, 2026
approximately 65 minutes, no intermission
for tickets (starting at $39), visit Cat Cohen: Broad Strokes

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