Review of ‘This Is Not About Me’: “Heartless romance doesn’t have a pulse”

London’s Soho Theatre presents this new two-hander exploring the explosive relationship between two young lovers. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show to let us know if its passionate narrative needs to patch anything up.

There was only one single line that resonated with me throughout the entire performance. A brief incident, but no less powerful. So much so that hardly any other scripts have matched its potency so far. As the two lovers sit through a film in the middle of this romance (there’s no big enough quote-unquote marks to express its deviated nature), one confesses he’s not really watching, just pretending.

Of course, that’s not an option if you attend a show as a critic. And I couldn’t do anything else but forced myself to concentrate on the play. I succeeded, but it was a titanic task. And overall, a painful endeavour. In the end, that’s how This Is Not About Me comes across — a vapid exploration of human relationships with very little to say and too much wording to say it.

Grace and Eli are terrible for each other. They’ve said so themselves on a video where they discuss their many flaws. Yet, the sparkle has grown between the two. And despite Grace’s abuse and manipulative tactics, they still want to be together — first as friends, later as a couple, and eventually as friends again.

If you’re thinking that’s a boring way of summarising a plot, that’s because this is exactly what this play is like. There is virtually nothing interesting about it. No pathos, no introspection, no sharpness, no individuality. Apart from its back-and-forth time frame, which comes off confusing rather than dynamic, Hannah Caplan’s writing doesn’t provide the viewer with anything remotely palatable, let alone substantial.

The dialogue is clunky and artificial. It lacks flow, subtext, and wit. For the most part, the humour is excruciatingly facile, shoehorned, and ineffective. The jokes simply do not land, either because they are extremely predictable or because they are just not funny at all.

As the narrative progresses, Grace begins to start her own play based on her experiences with Eli. The metatheatrical device could have been an interesting approach if it had added anything to the story. Sadly, all it does is the exact opposite. It’s not a justified dramatic tool but an easy way to disguise the fact that there’s not much to tell. It’s a filler, not a contributor. As a result, a growing sense of emptiness pervades the entire recount.

The performances aren’t convincing either. There’s no chemistry between Amaia Naima Aguinaga and Francis Nunnery, whose portrayals look mechanical and detached from each other. Consequently, their bond is impossible to understand, for the mere reason that they can’t convey anything of the sort. Their characters do not come across as believable, but rather as recited impersonations with no nuance, layering, and above all, humanity.

Some acknowledgement could be given to the set design, which is far from impressive or groundbreaking, but nonetheless demonstrates certain versatility and symbolism. At some moments, what it represents may be subject to personal interpretation, but that trait can be regarded as an artistic value in its own right. And probably, that’s the only one to be found in this production.

You won’t be moved by their sketchy, almost missing journey. You won’t be entertained by their volatile relationship. You will not laugh at their clumsy punchlines, whose sophomoric nature isn’t the issue — its nonexistent funniness is. In fact, there’s not much else you’ll be enticed to do other than count the minutes until it’s over.

Its poor engaging qualities and vacuous execution make This Is Not About Me more of a this-is-not-for-me experience. Not surprisingly, my very forgiving plus-one enjoyed how the piece seemingly depicts how our memories twist reality. That notion should apply to his own observation, as that profound reading feels closer to a coping mechanism.

This Is Not About Me plays at London’s Soho Theatre until 18 April. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara