The premise of Nicole Nadler’s Exposure Therapy is simple but striking: if she can stop being afraid, she could do anything – and maybe, just maybe, so could you. This isn’t theatre with a neat script or a tidy arc. Instead, Nicole invites her audience to share their own fears (anonymously) and then tackles them live, mixing in confessions from her teenage diaries, personal stories, and her trademark honesty. After all, the only thing to fear is fear itself – or so we’re told. Back at the Fringe for her third year (and still happily “winging it”), Nicole bares her soul with courage and humour.
I watched this performance online due to a scheduling clash, which meant I couldn’t be in the room to feel that full exchange of energy between performer and audience. Even so, Nicole’s warmth carried through the screen. She began with a simple “Hi,” and while most of us never know whether to answer back, Nicole clearly wanted – and valued – that response. It set the tone for a show built on connection. From there, she explained the shape of the evening and invited the audience into her process with an openness that felt genuine rather than staged.
On stage, a stack of old diaries sat beside her, ready to be leafed through at random. Each diary entry unlocked a story from Nicole’s past – sometimes awkward, sometimes funny, sometimes painfully honest. Alongside these glimpses into her world, she asked the audience to submit their biggest fears or even a dare, creating a sense of unpredictability. You never quite knew which direction the show would head in next, and Nicole leaned into that chaos rather than shying away from it.
That’s where the heart of Exposure Therapy lies. Nicole doesn’t hide behind a character or a script. She uses herself – her real self – to narrate and perform. Many performers find safety in creating personas, but Nicole deliberately removes that shield, offering vulnerability in its rawest form. The result is both compelling and a little unsettling, because you realise you’re not watching an act, but a person navigating her own relationship with fear in real time.
At points, I wished there had been more time to explore the fears submitted by the audience, as these moments often carried the strongest resonance. But with the show already brimming with diary entries, audience dares, and Nicole’s own reflections, it’s clear there are natural limits to what can be fitted into an hour.
Still, what shines through is her authenticity. She is fragile, funny, self-aware, and brave all at once. The show reminds us that unscripted theatre is never static; each night is unique, and Nicole pours her heart into every performance. Watching, I found myself thinking she could take these stories, her Edinburgh experiences, and her collection of quotes and turn them into a book – something that could capture her voice on the page as powerfully as she does on stage.
Exposure Therapy delivers on its promise: it’s heartfelt, unscripted, and shaped by the audience as much as the performer. It is theatre at its most vulnerable and unpredictable, and that’s exactly its strength.
★★★★ ‘ It is theatre at its most vulnerable and unpredictable’
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