Review by Lisa Lanzi
Featuring Claire Glenn as solo performer with direction by Eliza Lovell, An Incomplete Encyclopedia of Hugs is produced by Lucy Combe of South Australian Playwrights Theatre and is the work of writer Sarah Peters.
Gently residing for only a short season in the intimate Studio Theatre at Goodwood, the experience begins when the actor greets you upon entry into the space. It was interesting to watch this process knowing that some of the audience had no idea it was the performer who stood there until we all settled and they took to the stage. Perched beside Claire Glenn, writer Sarah Peters welcomes us, acknowledging that we meet and play on Kaurna Land, and that “now” might be a great time to open the care package (bookmark with welcome message, tissue, and a mint) found on our seat to avoid any rustling later, and to of course to check our phones are set to silent.
This play is a fascinating combination of monologue elements interspersed with lively rhythmic, poetry, seemingly stream of consciousness musings, and the creatively brilliant exploration of a series of numbered hugs within a multiplicity of circumstances. The character interacting with us, and mostly eliminating the fourth wall, is Juno, a thirty-something female with many stories to tell and who assures us that “nothing beats a really good hug”. Dropped into the mix are some scientific facts about hugs: they decrease the stress hormone cortisol plus increase secretion of the neuropeptide oxytocin (the ‘love’ hormone) - particularly after a full 20 seconds of hugging. Juno gleefully informs us “so a hug is really a drug AND a vitamin”! Conversely, not all hugs are great…. Like Number 78: The ‘I-don’t-particularly-like-you-and-you-make-me-feel-uncomfortable-sometimes-but-if-I-don’t-hug-you-it-will-seem-like-a-slight-and-I-don’t-have-the-mental-bandwidth-to-deal-with-that-right-now-so-I’m-just-going-to-suck-it-up-and-hug-you-and-not-overthink-it’ hug.
Our heroine recounts how we humans collect a “rich, diverse language of hugs” as we navigate life with all the ups and downs the universe might throw our way. Peters’ rich text speaks of a “physical archive of care”, of comforting and being comforted, a way to see and be seen, and how this might just be enough at times. The text also packages a warm litany of the many types of love that exist in the world alongside momentous grief, loss, change, growth, mothering (or not to mother), parenting and family connection, plus a few universal life-lessons. The over-arching tenor of the work is positive and life-affirming, with deep feelings conjured for audience members as personal memories well up in response to the writing and to the exquisite performance.
Music and sound score from Sascha Budimski sensitively captures various emotional moods and deftly conveys a sense of place as locations are brought to life through both text and the sophistication of the performance. Designer Bianka Kennedy has placed an over-large, neutral-coloured plush lounge seat on a circular plinth raised by about 40 centimetres. The action is confined to this satisfyingly simple device and the actor (clad in pale pink jumpsuit plus comfy pastel socks) sits, stands, dances and reclines as they directly address the audience or assume a different character through subtle, well-executed physicality. We might be witnessing a figure within a dreamscape, a blanket fort, a refuge, an exhibition ‘happening’, or an introvert’s bedroom; but this small, centre stage zone variously transforms through the magic of the performance into a hospital bed, café, kitchen table, or front seat of a car, for example. Various accoutrements (blanket, quilt, and cushions in muted earthy tones) are arranged to convey various scenes or other characters, contentment or chaos.
It makes my heart sing to know that this is a mostly female-led production and director Eliza Lovell has guided the entirety with a thoughtful, and skilful touch. There is subtle though meticulous attention to detail both in the delivery of the text and each shift in the character’s physical presence, while allowing Claire Glenn’s mellifluous voice to shine. Lovell is also an accomplished actor in her own right and that history has only added to the intuitive direction. There is a completeness to the production that speaks to the cohesion of the creative team as they have teased out their vision.
An Incomplete Encyclopedia of Hugs is a haven of positivity in a tough world (particularly at this November 2024 political juncture). Although the twist in each of Juno’s anecdotes (no matter how sad or serious) leaves us with hope and a sense of optimism, I would suggest that oftentimes reality just doesn’t offer that level of comfort or care to those in crisis - perhaps though, this is the theatre we need to experience right now. There was certainly an atmosphere of warmth and unity among the post-show gathering, my own heart undeniably joining in.
During some final utterings, Juno speaks of growing more wise and how she is “…getting better at separating what I’m good at and what I want” - a sentiment that truly resonated with me.
With one last lighting shift, Juno steps to the stage floor for the first time to speak the magic of Hug Number 1 - the hug that everyone should discover at some time in their life: the ‘this-is-the-hug-that-changes-everything,-the-one-that-makes-you-realise-that-life-is-wonderful-and-weird-and-glorious-and-devastating-and-short-and-long-and-maybe-you’re-yet-to-have-this-hug-and-that’s-ok-too-and-when-you-do-you’ll-pull-back-from-the-person-you’re-hugging-and-you-will-know-the-next-thing-you’re-meant-to-learn-about-yourself-and-it-will-be-good’ hug.
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