It’s disappointing that generations of fans have seen Whoopi Goldberg only on screen: in movies including The Color Purple, Ghost (“Molly, you in danger, girl”), and Sister Act; and on TV, for nearly two decades on the morning show The View.
Before any of that, she was, among others, Fontaine, a world-traveling junkie/philosopher in her 1984 self-titled one-woman Broadway show. Fontaine made a few more appearances over the years, and now he’s back on stage—played by two-time Tony winner Kara Young, one of the five terrifically talented women performing The Whoopi Monologues at Lincoln Center’s Mitzi Newhouse Theater.
The characters are all Goldberg’s: Fontaine (Young), Blonde Girl (Dominique Fishback), Surfer Girl (Kerry Washington), Jamaican Lady (Danielle Pinnock), and Lurleen (Kecia Lewis). The words are all hers as well. Fontaine is still a world-class charmer: “My name is Fontaine. And love is my game. And when I kissed the girls, they all aflame. C’mon let me kiss your hand. No, the one with the diamonds on it,” coos Young, who could charm a ring off anyone in the audience. Fontaine is the first person we meet, and it’s a savvy choice by director Whitney White (Liberation): It’s Goldberg’s most famous monologue, and Young (Purlie Victorious, Purpose) is flawless, whether discussing the Anne Frank house in Amsterdam, eyes full of wonder, or describing the airplane meal; it was supposedly “done-done steak,” and wilted string beans, and Young really contorts herself into something resembling an overcooked vegetable.
[Read Frank Scheck’s ★★★☆☆ review here.]
Next is the almost 7-year-old Blonde Girl (Fishback)—“I’m big for my age ’cause we live near a nuclear reactor”—who tops her head with a shirt so she can have “long luxurious blonde hair.” Everything about the Blonde Girl, and Fishback’s performance, is endearing, especially when she removes the shirt to reveal her natural hair—cue the applause—and realizes she’s surrounded by people who look just like her. “You got hair like mine, huh? How come you don’t got your shirt on?” she asks innocently. “Can I touch your hair?” There’s really no way to refuse.
The characters do a good deal of interacting with the audience—perhaps none more than Jamaican Lady (Pinnock), who ditches her life as a beachside souvenir vendor in Kingston to accompany an “incredibly wrinkled and very very tan” 85 or 90-year-old man to the States as his “companion.” She calls him “The Old Raisin.” And when she begins a story about their sexual encounter—“Let me tell you something in praise of the older man”—if you’re a silver-haired gent seated down front, be prepared to share the spotlight. “Them old raisins zero in and go right for the money.” On Saturday night at least, the man in the first row seemed genuinely glad to be in on the joke.
Okay okay, in a rare stage appearance, Kerry Washington is, like, really great as the teenage Surfer Girl, who ends up “totally PG” after meeting a “hunk-ola” on the beach. Her friend’s Johnnie Walker Red and Comet concoction doesn’t do the trick, so she goes to church—props to Studio Bent for the enormous neon cross hovering behind her—where she’s dismissed by the priest and shamed by a nun. (Surfer Girl’s “Penguin, how would you know?” comeback is a classic.) Ultimately, she’s kicked out by her mom and is forced to…take care of things herself. This one hits extra hard post–Roe v. Wade.
The final character is the oldest—and the youngest. Lurleen (Lewis, a Tony winner for Hell’s Kitchen) is what many call a woman of a certain age; she enters carrying a fan and we immediately know why. (“I’m hot, y’all. I mean, hot. I’m Dick Cheney at a gay wedding hot.”) When Lurleen debuted in 2004’s Whoopi: Back to Broadway, the 20th Anniversary, the (mostly male) critics weren’t moved by her talk of period products and menopausal moments. But audiences likely will be. According to the Broadway League, the average New York theatergoer is 41 years old, and 63% of that audience identifies as female—all of whom who have asked themselves, or will soon ask themselves, Lurleen’s burning question: “Wait a minute, you can keep a man hard for 19 hours, but you can’t find a way to balance out a hot flash?” Lurleen’s monologue could have used some trimming—not because the topic is too heavy or unpleasant, but simply to give her parity with the other characters’ compelling stories. Hey, you can’t blame us for wanting to hang more with Fontaine!
The Whoopi Monologues opened July 13, 2026, at the Mitzi Newhouse Theater and runs through Aug. 30. Tickets and info: lct.org
