Yesterday was a day of pop bangers for me. An afternoon matinee of & Juliet – a fun, poppy revision of the Shakespeare story set to noughties tunes – at the Theatre Royal was followed by the karaoke-themed Shit Life Crisis at Alphabetti.

I’ve been a fan of Olivia Hannah’s writing for a while – I loved her play Braids and have enjoyed the shorter pieces of her work I’ve seen. So I was excited to see that this show, made by Hull’s Silent Uproar, was coming to Betti, albeit for a pretty short run (so get booking!) And if karaoke and cancer sound like strange bedfellows, don’t worry – this glitter-strewn delight of a show makes it work.

[Image description: programme for Shit Life Crisis]

Having planned nothing more than a hot girl summer, Grace (Florence Odumosu) is floored by her cancer diagnosis, and isn’t too sure how to feel when schoolfriend Abbie (Madeleine MacMahon) gets in touch, having gone through a similar trial. While Grace is initially reluctant to ask for – or even accept – help, the pair bond over the boredom of chemo and the escape of karaoke.

Both Odumosu and MacMahon give strong performances as the very different friends, coping with their cancer in very different ways, and both handle the tonal shifts well, as the piece moves between the high energy bops and the emotional lows of the reality of cancer.

Hannah beautifully captures all the small indignities of disease – from the often-unspoken economic fallout (Grace can no longer work, Abbie has to move back home), to the impact on relationships when your friends are out having cocktails while you are in having chemo. The play takes some pleasingly sly digs at the kind of faux friends who centre their own feelings, using cod honesty to absolve themselves of blame for their lack of support. (Hey, they feel really bad about it, right?)

But the writing is not unnuanced. Grace herself is no angel – prickly and difficult, often making her own life harder than it could be (if Abbie comes across slightly more one-note, we can accept this is because we are seeing her through Grace’s grief-tinted recollections).

Alex Mitchell directs with energy and gets the most out of Caitlin Macwhinney’s gorgeous set, a streamer-strewn karaoke stage. There are some lovely, witty touches (the glitter vomit a particular highlight) and the songs are chosen well, building to a properly emotional climax. (The audience is encouraged to sing along, and although there was some initial resistance, because we are of course British and awkward by nature, by the final song most had joined in).

The format of the piece – a tight one-hour run time, much of which is given over to songs – means that it doesn’t always get to dig quite as deeply as it might do, and Abbie in particular feels under-explored. But overall, this does a great job of recognising that even the most serious circumstances can yield joy, and that is something to celebrate.

You can book the show here, or follow Silent Uproar here.

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[Image description: The Bridesmaid Blues and Blood Burns, by Tracey Sinclair]