Walking away from a dream sounds like a nightmare—having to admit defeat to yourself, to everyone who knew about your ambitions, and to let go of something that’s become integral to your identity. In her one-woman show How to Give Up on Your Dreams, Meg Chizek loudly and proudly tells us how she gave up on her dream of becoming a professional dancer.
From an early age, she dedicated herself completely to dance, and her talent is evident in the show’s many lively numbers. She earned a BPA in dance at university in Oklahoma before moving to New York to make it as a dancer—only to land a small role in an off-Broadway production of Beauty and the Beast as a napkin. However, this show is not a tragedy. After trying stand-up comedy for the first time, Chizek falls in love with the art form and the new voice it gives her. Her dream doesn’t really end; it simply transforms into something new, and the show challenges the idea that life divides neatly into those who succeed and those who fail.
Chizek is a naturally funny performer who unpacks the toxic culture of her dance school with wit and warmth. Her exuberance almost makes you forget that she’s describing something quite dark. One standout moment is a Venn diagram comparing her dance course to a cult, projected on a PowerPoint behind her. She also cleverly transfers her dance skills into a comedic context—the country-style leg kicks she breaks into while announcing that she went to university in Oklahoma are both impressive and hilarious. In fact, leg kicks seem to be a Meg Chizek speciality.
Her comedic style feels more relatable than radically innovative, and it’s clear that her material resonates most with a certain demographic—musical theatre–loving women. She gives out stickers to audience members who catch her musical references and encourages us to shout out our own dreams at the start of the show. On review night, the audience is particularly small, which isn’t ideal for a performance that thrives on interaction. It would be great to experience this show in a fuller room that could feed off the fun on stage. Even so, Chizek’s irrepressible energy keeps the performance light and engaging.
She also switches into different characters, including her ballet teacher—complete with a wig—who dismisses aspiring dancers with brutal ease. These moments add texture and variation to the hour, and it would be good to see more of them woven into the show. A few additional characters could help enrich the storytelling and bring the world of the piece to life more vividly. While the constant cycle of practising and auditioning reflects her real experience, it can start to feel a little repetitive on stage.
After years under the thumb of the strict dance industry, comedy finally gives Chizek the freedom to express everything she’s felt about chasing that dream. The fact that she successfully transforms her experiences into a great comic hour proves that even when a dream goes unfulfilled, the journey is never wasted—even if giving up feels, for a moment, like failure.
Written by Meg Chizek
Published with The Reviews Hub
Rosie Wood 
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