By Michael James Rocha
February 21, 2000
 

It’s a true-to-life war story, a tell-all tale that really tells all.  Margaret Cho brought her one-woman show, “I’m the One That I Want,” to town Saturday, and she left no rock unturned. She touches on everything: race, sex, drug-and-alcohol addiction, family and her disastrous foray into network television with her TV show “All-American Girl.”  It was Cho at her brutally honest best.  And she wouldn’t have it any other way.  And neither would the sold-out audience at Spreckels Theatre in downtown San Diego. The crowd greeted her appearance on stage with whoops and hollers, and throughout her 80-minute show, she traded jokes for waves of laughter from adoring followers.  “I’m the One That I Want,” which began its national tour last August after a stint off-Broadway, is first and foremost a stand-up show. For Cho, however, the show is about striving and surviving.  Tapping into the pain of her tumultuous life of the last few years, she feeds her comedy with a dose of harsh reality.  “Once upon a time, I had my own TV show,” Cho begins, setting up the scene for a ferociously funny—and at times harrowing—story of how she survived the meat grinder that is Hollywood, how she conformed to seek acceptance in a town where conformity is hardly the norm.  Yes, her show is raunchy. Yes, her show—which is being released as a movie later this year—straddles the fine line between an R rating and an NC-17. But Cho’s straight-from-the-shoulder style makes even the most politically incorrect topic eminently funny.  Cho on white supremacists: “Where do they get their robes? Is there a K-K-K-Mart? And do they have a white sale every day?”  On her sexuality: “Am I gay? Am I straight?” She answers: “I’m just slutty. So, where’s my parade?”  On her predominantly gay circle of friends: “Growing up, I always wished to be surrounded by gorgeous men. I guess I should have been more specific.”  In 1994, she became the first Asian-American to headline a network sitcom. During the early weeks of the show’s short run, execs at ABC complained about her weight and “the fullness” of her face.  “I had no idea I was this giant face taking over America!” she says.  Her show was canceled, “and they replaced me with Drew Carey because he’s so thin.”  Cho’s delivery was perfect, sassy and sincere. Her timing was impeccable. But the show’s dark topic—her fall as a rising network star—posed awkward moments.  After Cho told of ending up in the hospital with kidney failure after losing 30 pounds in two weeks, the audience is left to wonder: Is there a punch line? Should we laugh?  It was awkward, yes, but it was real. And therein lies the true soul of her show.  Reality bites, and Cho knows that.  At one point, Cho relayed the story of getting the phone call from an ABC executive telling her that her show had been chosen as a part of the network’s 1994-95 season:  “For the first time in my life, I was not invisible. I found that acceptance I’d been looking for all my life.”  That acceptance, of course, led to rejection, but today, at 31, Cho is at peace with herself. She’s found acceptance again—from herself, her friends, her fans and, most importantly, her family.  Up until this one-woman show, Cho’s mother, Young Hie—the butt of many a punch line—had never seen her daughter perform. During this show’s tour stop in her hometown of San Francisco last November, the elder Cho, waiting in line, turned to her neighbor and said, “Do you know me? I’m so famous.”  Margaret Cho laughs at that recollection and says, “My mom loves my show, and I’m sure she’ll be glad to know she’s coming to a theater near you.”  At the end of her show, before the spotlights dimmed, Cho bowed to an approving audience. She smiled and then walked off the stage, looking like a woman warrior who triumphed over life’s little battles.