Review: LEARNING TO HUMAN at Hyde Park Theatre

Some nights at the theater hit like a freight train. Learning to Human is one of those nights. Written and performed by Sims Holland and directed and produced by David McCusker, this searing, soul-baring one-woman play is part confession, part poetry slam, part stand-up set, and completely unforgettable.

Holland, an Austin native, left home after high school already wrestling with addiction and spent years running from herself, moving from coast to coast in a haze of drugs, alcohol, and self-doubt. She shares a story that touches on the cruel ease with which teenagers and young adults can access substances, the quiet, persistent grip of depression, and the destructive patterns of eating disorders. Eight years ago, she finally got clean and began piecing her life back together. Learning to Human is the story of that journey, a raw, unflinching account of survival, self-discovery, and ultimately, redemption.

She does not flinch as she guides us through the darkest corners of her past, from bulimia to substance abuse to the blur of her twenties. What could have been grim becomes something fiercely alive. Her story is not just about despair, it is about the moment she realized she could no longer live in pieces and how the love of her friends, family, and eventually her husband became her lifeline. Their support shows us that even in the deepest chaos, connection can anchor us.

From the moment she steps on stage, Holland commands attention. Her comedic timing is sharp, breaking tension just as the weight of her story threatens to overwhelm. She skewers herself with self-deprecating wit without ever slipping into self-pity, delivering truth with a sly grin. The audience laughs through the pain because she never lets us forget she is still standing.

One of the night’s highlights comes when Holland delivers a Dr. Seuss-style rhyme about her thighs, “I’m not my thighs, my thighs are not me.” What could have been a confession of shame becomes a moment of liberation, equal parts ridiculous and profound. The audience roars. For me, this moment struck a nerve. I have struggled with body image my entire life, and it reminded me that I am not my body and my body does not define me. Humor becomes a sharp scalpel for truth and I happily welcomed it.

The production design mirrors Holland’s emotional journey with quiet elegance. Sparse, deliberately placed props initially appear scattered, like remnants of her chaotic past. As the story unfolds, their arrangement gains clarity, reflecting the order she brings to her life. It is a subtle but powerful visual metaphor.

Holland’s physicality crackles with energy. She hurls her whole body into the performance, flowing effortlessly from despair to rage to joy. Her haka dance is a lightning strike, empowering and liberating. When she mimes the drug-fueled haze of her twenties, she staggers and sways with such precision we can almost smell the smoke and taste the chaos. And when she speaks of choosing life, her entire body seems to rise, and we rise with her.

This play belongs to a growing wave of confessional solo shows that have reshaped the theater landscape. Holland’s work stands apart. It is honest without indulgence, raw without voyeurism, and funny without flippancy. In a world flooded with curated vulnerability on social media, Learning to Human shows what unfiltered storytelling feels like when it is live, dangerous, and shared in real time.

By the end of the night, I had run the full range of human emotion. I laughed, grimaced, cried, and gasped. I felt anger on her behalf, pride in her resilience, and perhaps most unexpectedly, love for her courage to stand on stage and tell a story that is not pretty but honest and real.

Learning to Human is not a gentle night at the theater. It does not offer an escape from life. It is a mirror, a challenge, a dare. Whether you are wrestling with your own demons or quietly living alongside them, you will see yourself in Holland’s story. You will leave Hyde Park Theatre changed.

“Shake your sparkles,” she says near the end. Shake them indeed, because we all have them, even when it feels like we don’t.

Do not walk to this show. RUN. Take a friend, take your mom, take the person you know is barely holding it together. You will laugh together, cry together, and leave with a renewed sense that life, even at its messiest, darkest, and most painful, is worth living.

Duration: 90 minutes, no intermission

Learning to Human

A solo show by Sims Holland

Written and Performed by Sims Holland

Directed and Produced by David McCusker

Now Playing Through October 4th, 2025

Thursdays through Saturdays at 8:00 PM

Hyde Park Theatre

511 W. 43rd Street