Q&A: A Cat In A Box

Comedian and actor, Tom Nemec, brings his deeply personal one-person show, A Cat in a Box, to Edinburgh Fringe, and The Recs is delighted that he has taken time to chat to us about it.

So Tom, A Cat in a Box, I believe is a story – in fact, your story – that you’ve wanted to tell for such a long time. Can you give us a sense of what it’s about?

It’s about growing up in a chaotic, dysfunctional family and what that does to a child. It’s not stand-up. It’s a solo play. There’s humor in it, but it’s a very different kind of storytelling. It’s about realizing I wasn’t defective. I was affected by childhood trauma, and once I understood that, things began to change.

You’ve said that you felt ‘defective’ for so many years. How did you discover that all of that was poor programming in your upbringing and none of it was your fault?

A lot of it came from studying early childhood development when I became a teacher in my 50s. I learned how much of who we are is shaped in the first years of life. In the play I say, “I wasn’t broken. I was poorly programmed.”

I believe that from an early age, you were thought of as “the funny one”. Was this a defence mechanism growing up within dysfunction? Or a route through it?

It was completely a defense mechanism. As I got older, it just became my default. People told me I was funny. Then I saw comedians and heard them telling the truth, so I thought, let me do this.

Your journey as a creative performer started with stand-up. What drew you to that genre? Was it a way of telling your truth about addictions in a safe way?

I was drawn to comedians like George Carlin and Richard Pryor because they were honest. They were telling the truth about things people didn’t always want to hear. My way of dealing with trauma and pain was to make a joke out of everything, so comedy gave me a way to say what I believed was true. And if people got upset, I could say, “It’s just a joke.”

I’m not sure about the States, but over in the UK, the comedy scene is married with a heavy drinking culture. Has that been a challenge as a performer – sober for decades – to navigate that boozy scene?

Yes, it was very difficult. It was frustrating when I would talk about being a recovering alcoholic, and after the show people would come up to me with drinks. I felt like they weren’t believing me or really listening to what I was saying. That was part of what finally drove me toward theatre.

At what point did the solo show become something that you had to do? Was it because comedy audiences are allowed to dismiss the harder content?

I think it became something I had to do when I realized stand-up wasn’t big enough for this story. Comedy can touch the truth, but this needed more space. I wanted the humor, but I also wanted the silence after it.

You are doing nine dates at the Edinburgh Fringe this year. What does it mean to you to be part of the world’s biggest arts festival?

It means a lot. I’m bringing a very personal story from my childhood in New Jersey to audiences in Edinburgh. That feels exciting, strange, and a little terrifying — which seems about right.

In A Cat in a Box, you are mining some deeply personal material – how do you protect yourself from the pain that must come from revisiting what happened?

People sometimes ask me how I deal with it. I don’t deal with it — just joking. It can be overwhelming, but at the end of the show I get to talk briefly about my journey and where I am today, and I get to share that with an audience.

A good part of my recovery has been creating consistent, positive self-talk. I remind myself, “You’re doing the show. You’re gonna feel great after. This is what performing is.”

What do you hope that Edinburgh audiences will get from your show?

I hope they leave knowing they’re not alone and that they can change. Untreated childhood trauma can make life harder, but it doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you.

I also hope they leave lighter. There’s an emotional bonding that happens between me and the audience. It’s a relief. It’s a release.