The Guy at that Party
Pig Iron Theatre Company
1417 N. 2nd St.
Philadelphia
Sept. 19, 2025
This show is part of the Philadelphia Fringe Festival, which is running now through Sept. 28. Find out what else is showing this month through FringeArts on their calendar here.
While waiting to interview LA based clown, Reshma Meister, I was approached by a man who wanted to tell me about his work in indie film. While my typical reaction to a man explaining his accolades to me would be frigid, this time it felt like a test.
Put on at Pig Iron Theater Company as a part of the Philadelphia Fringe Festival’s Dumb Hub, That Guy at That Party by Reshma Meister pushed its audience to challenge their expectations and discomfort in social situations with the goal of collective connection.
The Guy entered That Party (our show) from a backroom where he had been watching movies for 10 years straight, so he was a bit out of practice when it came to socializing. He used his way of connecting — movies — to get to know other guests at the party by asking us what our favorite movies were. What began as awkwardly repetitive questions and pregnant pauses ended with a more connected audience as we lightly discussed our choice films as a crowd.
The Guy’s outfit was a crucial part of the awkwardness; his oversized soccer cleats gave his steps an uncomfortably loud and halting timber. He wore a long black skirt and a suit jacket, immediately marking him as out of place in an informal setting. Atop his head was a black fedora and on his face a pile of tape. His right hand was taped to his drink, and his left was taped to oblivion, creating fingers that wrapped around his torso whenever he got especially nervous.
The tape fingers made apparent to the audience the extent of his time left alone to his own devices. They made simple tasks like eating, drinking, or shaking hands more difficult. They could not be concealed. They embodied a feeling that many of us have had in social situations: feeling like you stick out like a sore thumb.
Meister was not punishing the audience with silence or awkward socializing, and she certainly wasn't disparaging The Guy for his approach. Meister was empathetic to this character’s plight; she spoke kindly of The Guy when I talked with her about the character’s origins. She explained that she’s traveled to several festivals with him, and that she understands his desire to connect.
“I stopped drinking two years ago and that made me feel a little more exposed at parties, or a little more off. Harder to blend in, or it’s like you want to blend in but you also want to connect so that right there is kind of a conflict. My dream is that after the show people know something about someone, and they’re like connecting over the stuff that was brought up in the show,” she said.
When I asked Meister if there was anything else she wanted to share, she paused for a while, considering her answer with care — and once again we were in silence together. This time I was ready for the pause, and grateful for the thoughtful answer silence allowed.
“An idea that I’ve been exploring is the journey from guest to host, and there’s something deeply human about feeling like you’re a guest and then feeling like you are now a host. And I feel like we do that right before we die. There's this part of growing up where you’re now making others feel comfortable or welcome or showing them the way. There's this personal responsibility I think I avoid and then I take on, and it’s excruciating every time. Because I seriously don’t know if people will like me,” she reflected.
When The Guy arrived, he acted like a reserved tentative guest at his own show. He addressed one member of the audience at a time. After listing the stars of each film his conversational partner brought up, he would quickly move onto the next person, stating: “better be making my rounds,” essentially severing the start of a relationship over and over again. But by the end of the show, he was eagerly making connections between movies and people, weaving a web of ideas along the audience with increasing enthusiasm. Over time, he became somewhat of a suave host.
My favorite scenes were when he would personally revel in his own joke; there were plenty of moments when he would burst out some solo dance moves, and we'd all get to take in his giddy pride from the audience seat. Making a "nunya" business joke had never been such an ecstatic win. When his banter didn’t have the desired effect, he used a perfect line to redeem himself, “just trying something out.” When he announced it was time for him to go, I felt sad to see him leave.
The show did not belittle The Guy for his repetitive openers or long pauses. Rigid questions were his way of connecting, and his honest intentions inspired an equally vulnerable audience. Right now, a lot of people are performing characters that are awkward men, who may be wearing fedoras, who are socially anxious or obnoxiously self-focused. However, very few of them succeed in endearing us to "The Guy" like Reshma Meister did.
