Meat Suit: A Review From Inside the Belly of the Beast
8 / 10
Maybe being a mom means, in part, always being behind, never quite catching up. Time becomes more soup than arrow, more palimpsest than progress. I often feel old and sore and busted and also simultaneously adolescent and clueless, a child recklessly, optimistically playing house. “I don’t know what I’m doing / I don’t know what will happen / But I know what I know,” sing the actors at the end of Meat Suit. All of them are mothers themselves — which, in this business, in this world, is its own small revolution. “I see you,” they sang, and whatever else I felt, I knew they meant it. I see them, too.
