Slugs ⭐⭐⭐⭐
“Slime. Ooze. Mucus. Tobi feels like he is covered, head to toe, in slugs. Every unwanted kiss, lover and confused indignity over the years has left its oozy mark. They’ve always been there, but one recent romantic encounter and suddenly these slimy gastropods are taking over in a big way. From his childhood bedroom, Tobi explores fractured memories of his queer, adolescent sexual awakening (replete with a Hollyoaks Hunks calendar circa 2008) in an attempt to make peace with the slugs, in this knotty, darkly funny meditation on sex, shame and desire.”
Some theatrical metaphors are so strange you immediately wonder how on earth they are going to work. Slugs is certainly one of them. Taking the physical sensation of being covered in slugs and turning it into an exploration of sex, shame, desire and queer adolescence sounds intriguing on paper. However, this is a production that manages to be funny, uncomfortable, intimate and genuinely moving, frequently within the same scene. Beneath all the slime and mucus is a very human story about trying to understand the experiences which have shaped you, and deciding whether you can finally make peace with them.
George Jibson's direction is striking and clear from the outset. There is a very strong understanding of what this production wants to be, and Jibson never seems confused about how to communicate that. The staging is self-assured without feeling overly elaborate, keeping the story and performer at the centre. There is also a lovely balance between the surreal and the intimate. The production can suddenly become visually strange, but it never loses sight of the emotional reality underneath it. That is particularly important for material that could very easily become gimmicky.
Tomás Palmer's set and costume design is wonderfully simple but incredibly effective. The main visual is a large lightbox hanging from the ceiling, alongside a tarp-covered floor and a box which, as the show progresses, is revealed to contain various surprises. It is exactly the sort of design that doesn’t seem to be doing much at first, until it starts to.
Lucy Adams's lighting design is lovely. The lightbox becomes an important part of the performance, and there are also nice moments when the lighting brings other elements of the set into focus. What I genuinely appreciated was the restraint. The lighting doesn’t constantly try to tell us what to feel, but it still allows the production a real sense of freedom to play. There is enough variation to keep the visual world interesting without taking attention away from the story. Sound Design by Jack Baxter works in much the same way. It supports the atmosphere without becoming overly noticeable, allowing the audience to remain immersed in Tobi’s memories and emotional journey. The restraint in both lighting and sound is important here. This is a production where the words and performance need to be heard and felt, and the technical elements understand that.
Tobias Graham's book is beautiful and genuinely moving. There is a surprise around halfway through that I didn’t see coming, and when it arrives, it adds an entirely new emotional dimension to the story. More importantly, it doesn’t feel like a twist for the sake of having a twist. It improves our understanding of what we’ve already seen. The story is incredibly heartfelt, with a huge amount of emotion packed into a relatively short running time. Graham explores difficult and uncomfortable subjects while still allowing the production moments of humour and lightness.
The slugs become a physical representation of all the unwanted experiences, memories and feelings that Tobi has carried with him. Something unpleasant that won’t quite leave. Something that has attached itself to him and become increasingly difficult to ignore. It is an unusual metaphor, but one that gradually becomes more poignant as the story develops.
Performance by Tobias Graham is excellent. Graham communicates an enormous amount of emotion without making the performance feel forced or excessively theatrical. At times, it genuinely feels as though we are watching a private conversation rather than a performer delivering lines. The naturalism is one of the production's greatest strengths. It creates a slightly voyeuristic feeling, as if we are a fly on the wall witnessing something we perhaps shouldn’t be. That makes the emotional moments land particularly hard. Graham has a lovely ability to allow the character’s humour and vulnerability to exist alongside one another. Tobi isn’t simply a vehicle for the story’s themes; he feels like a real person trying to make sense of his experiences. And that is ultimately why the production works.
Slugs could easily have become an exercise in shock value. Instead, the slime becomes a way into a much more complicated conversation about queer adolescence, sexual experiences, shame and the things we carry with us well after they have happened. The production isn’t afraid to make you uncomfortable, but it also isn’t interested in discomfort for discomfort’s sake. There is genuine tenderness underneath it. By the end, the slugs feel less like something disgusting and more like something that Tobi has finally learnt how to live alongside.
Slugs plays at Pleasance Courtyard, Bunker One until 30 August at 12:55 pm and runs for approximately 60 minutes.
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