Writer: Valeria Suaste
Director: Cansu Ezgi Ince
Nymphomaniac Anonymous is about sex. A lot of it. But not in the ways you would expect. It discusses how sex is so intrinsically linked to self-worth, how it is often used to cope rather than to love and how it can be a form of self-harm that we don’t notice as it often ‘does not hurt anybody’, but we forget about ourselves in this equation. The candid tone of this piece is both piercing and addictive, where truth – any truth – does not seem so scary, no matter what the stigma.
The play has an incredibly strong opening, with our protagonist, Milan, going through his phone and changing the music as well as sending various people voice messages, of them being his brother and another, a girl, he is seeing. The set is unmistakably a sex therapy session, with doughnuts at the back, a schedule of different events taking place in this ‘community centre’ and chairs arranged in a neat five, leaving us wondering whether these will be filled which introduces anticipation and excitement into the room from the get-go.
A hand-drawn ‘SAA’ sign at the back seems initially underdone, however, we later find that this ties into a character and their ditsy characteristics which makes the set all the more charming. The actor playing Milan absolutely sets the bar for energy, with funny quips and thoughts to himself that get the audience in a chokehold, hilariously embodying the forced casualness before entering a session where you must admit you have a problem.
Finally, our other characters Nia, Kay, Laura and Alex enter, and we are flung into the thick awkwardness of any group therapy session. A brilliant entrance must be accredited to the actor who plays Alex, whose physicality is so precise and yet appears erratic but also naturalistic. Alex’s comedic timing and picking up of general stereotypes of any kind of therapist, whilst also pairing them with a slice of humanity, makes them a character which balances the need for theatrical humour with human connection in any play. Their identity as using they/them pronouns, as well as another character Laura, who is in a relationship with a woman, speaks to the importance of including queer voices and identities within conversations about sex.
What is so intriguing is that these identities are not made to be a plot in and of themselves, but simply a part of the world created by writer Valeria Suaste. The inclusivity of this show draws interest, the fast-paced and comedic introduction quickly makes us feel close to the characters on stage and the contrast of distinct personalities such as the cynic, the innocent, the cool guy, the insecure man, and the loony, set this play up to be very successful.
The potential is without a doubt present, but this success declines in places, where awkward pauses, which are understandably used at the beginning and consistently used throughout the show, slow down both the pace and energy. There are moments of movement which create a very interesting soundscape, nicely contrasting the naturalism and conversational tone of the play.
The repetition of phrases and stuttering within lines slows the pace heavily and causes the audience to become a little restless. For a play of one hour and 35 minutes with no interval, it is crucial that pace is maintained, this includes energy behind lines and pick-ups on the end of lines. After the first half, there is a notable decline in energy which needs to be remedied. There are too many similarly played scenes where people are speaking over each other and there is a dramatic burst of anger or a shout, or someone cracks a joke amidst someone sharing an experience which derails the plot and again, slows the piece down.
This naturalistic play is full of both great moments and good moments. With a little honing and continuous energy, this play could soar past a 3.5-star rating.
Runs until 18 August 2024
Camden Fringe runs until 25 August 2024
