Natalie Abbott Explores Grief as a Bridge in BAD HAND
Grief often begins in silence, in the private rooms where language falters and the world feels suddenly unfamiliar. For Natalie Abbott, that silence did not close her off from performance, it became the unexpected spark for her debut cabaret BAD HAND. What started as an open brief for AdCab Festival quickly transformed into an honest excavation of loss, nihilism and the strange clarity that grief can bring. Instead of crafting a character or slipping into a familiar musical persona, Abbott found herself writing from the raw centre of her own life, shaping a work that is both deeply personal and completely universal.
In this conversation, Abbott reflects on how she protected the parts of her story that belonged only to her partner, while still inviting audiences into the emotional truth of their connection. She speaks about the shift from playing bright, beloved roles like those in MURIEL’S WEDDING to standing onstage as herself, without a script to lean on. She delves into the discoveries she made as a first time writer, the instinctive rules that shaped the show and the way the project recalibrated her sense of what matters, both onstage and off.
BAD HAND is not only a tribute to love and loss. It is a reminder that grief can be a bridge rather than a barrier, offering audiences connection, humour and the quiet permission to feel their own stories more fully.
When you first started shaping BAD HAND, what was the moment where you thought, “I can actually share this onstage,” rather than just keeping it as a private way of processing your grief?
BAD HAND actually came about the opposite way. I was asked to do a cabaret at AdCab fest and was told the brief for cabaret could be “anything you want.” Going through a monumental life change only a few months prior, there wasn’t much else circulating my brain at that time. I was going through a pretty hefty nihilistic phase of grieving and the cabaret was first going to be called “optimistic Nihilist.” As time went on, drafts were written and discarded, it turned out to be not just an exploration into new found nihilism – but an exploration, in real time, into how grief can hold a mirror up to your life and what we’re all doing with the unknown time we have left.
Grief can be heavy and private, yet cabaret leans into direct connection and even mischief. How did you find the line between what belongs to the audience and what still belongs only to you and your late partner?
Well, connection and mischief are my two favourite things. Grief is an individual experience yet universally felt in all its magnitudes. Everyone experiences grief at some point in their lives. It can feel dreadfully isolating at times when you’re going through it, but sharing this experience has definitely helped me feel closer and create deeper connections to other people – family, friends and even strangers. I’ve even felt that I’m able to understand my own experience with loss better after hearing about other people’s losses. When I was writing, I wanted to honour my partner and his life but not share his personal details with an audience without his permission. So, I made a very conscious effort to make sure that this is my story, first and foremost, it just happens to be my story about him.
You are known for big, bright roles in shows like MURIEL’S WEDDING THE MUSICAL Has your voice or physicality changed in subtle ways since your loss, and did you consciously lean into or resist those changes while creating BAD HAND?
In preparing for something like MURIEL’S WEDDING, I was playing the classic character, gathering inspiration from Toni Collette and musical influences like Kate Miller-Heidke and musical theatre vocal superstars. For BAD HAND I’m really just being me telling my own story. There are no characters or songs written for a specific moment, it’s just my words and songs that I’ve connected to that help me tell the audience what I’ve been feeling. I don’t think I allowed myself to resist anything when creating BAD HAND which is probably another reason it’s been so healing for me.
This is your debut as a cabaret writer/performer. What did you discover about your own writing that you had not seen in yourself as an actor when you are interpreting someone else’s script?
Oh, by no means have I done something so incredibly unique in my writing that it’s never been seen before! But I guess I discovered a few things about my writing. One of them being that I can actually write – that was a big one. Another one being that people actually like it. Some solicited feedback I received from some (incredibly talented, in their own right) friends, after a showing draft of the show, was actually that they wanted MORE writing. MORE words and MORE speaking! I couldn’t believe it! Back to the draft I went and gave the people what they wanted.
In shaping the set list and structure, did you use any “rules” for yourself, such as always following a gut punch moment with a joke, or always giving yourself a musical release after a difficult story?
I probably did follow some “rules” without quite knowing what the rules are. I just know what I wanted people to feel and tried my best to facilitate that so that it’s not a painful experience for the audience or for the performer (me.) It’s sad at times, of course, but I never wanted the audience to leave the theatre and search for the nearest bridge to jump from – I wanted them to leave the theatre and have the feeling of “life is crazy. We really will die someday. I should probably call my nan. And that Casey Chambers song is GREAT.” I like making people laugh and I want them to feel that they can. So I give them permission to laugh, and cry, if they want to.
Has making BAD HAND changed how you think about future roles or projects, in terms of what you are willing to say yes to now, or what no longer feels important to chase?
This whole experience has changed me as a person completely. So, in a nutshell – yes. I want to be a part of projects that have deep messages and at their essence are hearty and well-meaning. I want to prioritise fun and experience over moving “up” and “advancing” my career. It’s all just a change in perspective. I can feel I’ve gained more experience doing a show for $2.50 with people I love, with a storyline that means something to me than I could doing anything else. Beautiful moments with amazing people is something I will never take for granted.
When the festival run is over and “Bad Hand” belongs to your history as much as your present, what do you hope it will have done for you, and what do you hope it might unlock in audiences who have their own unspoken losses?
Writing BAD HAND has already done so much for me, I can’t quite put it into words. Even if two people buy tickets and they’re the only ones who come and see it, it will forever be the most fulfilling job I’ve ever done. For the audiences and for other people – For the ones that have lost, I hope they feel a sense of community and connection. For people who haven’t experienced it, I hope they feel they’ve been let in on a big beautiful secret. For me, the band, the audience, my bestie and producer Kendra, the ushers at Syd Fest, for everyone! – I just hope we all have a bloody good time.
BAD HAND is playing as part of Sydney Festival
For more information and tickets CLICK HERE
