When you’re a theater critic, you sometimes drive home from a show and think, “Huh. Not exactly sure what I’ll say about this one.”

Nate — A One Man Show, presented by the University Musical Society at the Arthur Miller Theatre, is one of those shows.

Because by its very nature, Nate will be a little different at every performance with its extensive audience participation and thus, some improv. The brainchild of creator/performer Natalie Palamides, the hour-long production focuses on a man who blasts toxic masculinity out into the world while nursing a broken heart.

The show fittingly starts with what feels like a punch to the face: the blisteringly loud opening chords of George Thoroughgood’s “Bad to the Bone” playing as helmeted, shades-wearing Nate rides around the stage on a mini-motorcycle. Absurdly silly, messy, performative demonstrations of masculinity (the consumption of a raw egg, meat, and whey powder) followed, in case there remained any lingering questions regarding the kind of guy we were dealing with.

But there’s also a pointed, early emphasis on consent, despite Nate’s tendency to make highly inappropriate requests; and things get even more complicated, and more interesting, once the integration of audience members starts pushing up against the show’s central conceit/illusion.

First, when Palamides encourages a man she paints as Nate’s amorous rival onto the stage to do battle, and invites the man to jokingly tap her breasts, a la “play-fighting,” the audience member at Wednesday’s performance steadfastly refused—because committing this act on a woman, even if she’s playing a man, has a completely different valence than it would on a man.

Similarly, when Nate seeks out his best friend, Lucas, to reinforce the opinion that Nate’s ex is a whore, Palamides was hard-pressed to find an audience member willing to fill this bro role Wednesday night. (For some time to come, Nate’s voice repeatedly saying, “Hey, Lucas!” will play on a loop in my head.) The discomfort in the room was palpable—and also amusing, as you inevitably start considering how the Ann Arbor community’s progressive identity was being both tweaked and reinforced in these awkward moments. (“Is this not funny? Or am I just taking this too seriously? She’s making fun of this behavior, but should I not be laughing and going along, anyway?!”)

Base-level squeamishness regularly lives alongside belly laughs in Nate, as the show carves out its unconventional, unpredictable path. Palamides spends much of the show naked, for all practical purposes—she wears flesh-colored briefs that house a stretchy, comical artificial phallus and testicles, and she has black leg and chest hair scribbled onto her skin. But again, because she’s playing a man, the nudity “hits different,” as they say, thereby providing this filthy, goofy show with an intellectually provocative foundation.

Eventually, we follow Nate to his painting class, which is followed by an impromptu date with the teacher, Miss Jackson. Palamides conjures some pretty creative and hysterical stage magic to bring this two-hander (wink!) scene to life, but then things take a surprisingly dark, serious turn. It's a move that makes a deep visual and emotional impact, yes, but also left me wondering if the moment had been narratively earned by what preceded it.

I’m still not exactly sure. But what I am sure of: I’m really glad I’m not the show’s stage manager, because Nate obliviously leaves chaos in his wake. (It’s telling, from a gender perspective, that I thought more than once about who would be cleaning up this blustering, self-absorbed male character’s mess.)

And while Nate is a graphic, adult show, not all adults will be open to its bawdy, over-the-top tone, nor will all appreciate its layered, comedic dissection of masculinity.

For those willing and able to sit with their own discomfort for a while, however, for the purposes of having their sensibilities challenged, Nate offers a bracing, shocking, and sometimes hilarious theatrical experience you’re not likely to get anywhere else.

But let’s not tell Nate that. His ego doesn’t need any more ammunition.

Jenn McKee is a former staff arts reporter for The Ann Arbor News, where she primarily covered theater and film events, and also wrote general features and occasional articles on books and music.  

"Nate — A One Man Show" is at the Arthur Miller Theatre, 1226 Murfin Avenue, Ann Arbor through February 9. Visit ums.org for tickets, showtimes, and more info.