Close Enough to Touch
Godber Studio, Hull Truck Theatre
Wednesday, October 28
Review by Sam Hawcroft
A bus stop, a litter bin and one young man with a great deal he cannot bring himself to say to the people closest to him.
There is little else needed for Close Enough to Touch, a searingly honest drama that packs considerable emotional force into just over an hour.
Written by Henry Roberts and directed by Cheryl Martin, this collaboration between Red Ladder Theatre Company of Leeds and Hull-based Silent Uproar takes its audience into territory that may be unfamiliar, and at times uncomfortable.
Its subject is cruising – seeking anonymous encounters with other men in public places – and there is no shortage of frank description or strong language. This is very much an adult evening at the theatre, but at its heart is a young man struggling to understand himself and find his place in the world.
Stefan Race plays the otherwise unnamed M, whose life appears to have stalled. He applies for jobs without success, drifts through his days and finds excitement in encounters that depend on exchanged glances, unspoken signals and secrecy.
We learn that he also has a girlfriend, Isla, whom he loves very much but from whom he conceals a considerable part of his life. The gap between what he feels, what he does and what he can explain becomes increasingly painful.
Holding an audience alone for more than an hour is a considerable undertaking. Race more than meets that challenge with an energetic, intensely physical performance that makes full use of the simple set. The bus stop makes use of a translucent video backdrop that very subtly hints at M’s changing surroundings, while the ambient soundtrack combines with simple lighting effects to crank up the tension at key moments.
There are moments when M’s movement becomes gymnastic, with leaps on to the litter bin and then a forward roll off it. These bursts of activity give the storytelling pace and variety, while suggesting a restless young man who can’t settle in his own skin.
For all the movement, though, it is the emotional shifts that make the performance so compelling. Confidence gives way to vulnerability, desire to distress. M’s scream into the void at one point is particularly visceral.
The story grows darker following an encounter that moves beyond the agreed boundary into sexual assault. M’s fears about his sexual health, heavy drinking and increasingly reckless decisions send him into a downward spiral, while Isla’s attempts to phone and text him go unanswered.
Indeed, the only other voice we hear is Isla’s, in a recorded voicemail. After so long inside M’s account of events, hearing from the person on the other side of his secrecy is affecting. Her plea for him to talk brings the consequences of his behaviour sharply into focus.
For me, the production offered an insight into a world I knew little about, while making its central character’s loneliness and uncertainty recognisable. You don’t have to share his experiences to understand the difficulty of admitting something to another person when you can barely articulate it to yourself.
The open ending leaves us wondering where M will go next, and whether he will find a way to make sense of what he wants. No easy explanations, no simple solutions… but most certainly a lasting impression.
