This Is Not About Me ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

A spiralling playwright dramatises her broken relationship. But should she let truth get in the way of a good story? In this tender will-they-won’t they, everything gets written, edited and redrafted. Truth gets messy.

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Douglas Clarke Wood’s direction ensures that the audience feels fully immersed in the delicate and sometimes volatile relationship between Eli and Grace. Scenes shift fluidly between memory, performance, and confrontation, allowing the story to breathe and giving silences as much weight as dialogue. The meta-theatrical framing is handled with finesse: Clarke Wood allows the humour to land naturally, while also letting moments of discomfort and vulnerability resonate profoundly. Every movement, every pause, feels deliberate, making the emotional stakes feel real and immediate. 

The set is deceptively simple yet rich with symbolism. Its handmade, installation-style aesthetic creates a sense that we are watching Grace literally construct her narrative. Crochet webs criss-cross the space, reflecting the tangled and complex history of the two friends. Props are minimal but purposeful; the makeshift bed formed from a shopping trolley stands out as both visually inventive and thematically resonant, becoming a central locus for memory, confession, and storytelling. Every item on stage feels loaded with meaning, adding layers to the story without ever cluttering it.

Projection and video are used with remarkable subtlety and impact. Rather than overwhelming the stage, they deepen the storytelling, highlighting memories and emotional subtext while guiding the audience through the non-linear timeline. The interplay between projected imagery and live performance blurs the boundaries between truth and interpretation, reinforcing the play’s exploration of narrative ownership and the fluidity of memory.

Lighting is another standout feature. Throughout the production, it shapes the atmosphere and guides focus with subtlety, but a truly unforgettable moment occurs at the finale. Grace pulls a suspended can from the ceiling to illuminate her own face, followed by Eli, creating a simple yet powerful visual metaphor for control, attention, and the shifting dynamics of their relationship. Combined with haze and smoke, the lighting adds a dreamlike, confessional tone that enhances the emotional resonance of the final moments.

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Sound design complements this beautifully. From the moment the audience enters, carefully chosen music sets a reflective and immersive tone, preparing us for the layered, introspective journey ahead. Sound is used judiciously, supporting transitions and emotional beats without ever overpowering the dialogue or performances.

Costumes are understated and naturalistic, perfectly reflecting the everyday lives of Eli and Grace. This choice keeps the focus on the characters and their evolving relationship, reinforcing the intimate, autobiographical feel of the production.

Perhaps the most inventive theatrical device in the show is the puppetry. Small, artist-style puppets appear during storytelling on the bed, replaying past events with a tactile intimacy that feels handmade and emotionally delicate. This develops into the use of paper-mâché puppet heads, a brilliantly clever idea that adds a striking layer to the storytelling. By using only heads rather than full figures, the production emphasises identity, memory, and perception, creating a slightly uncanny, dreamlike quality. The actors interact with these heads freely, producing moments that are both playful and subtly unsettling, turning abstract memories into tangible, theatrical experiences. This is a genuinely inspired choice, one of the show’s most distinctive and memorable elements.

Hannah Caplan’s script is sharp, witty, and emotionally perceptive. Moving seamlessly between autobiography, invention, and meta-theatrical commentary, it refuses to settle into a single narrative mode. The non-linear structure demands engagement, gradually revealing the complexities of a 12-year friendship, full of humour, tension, and occasional cruelty. Caplan captures the awkward, tender, and sometimes fraught nature of long-term relationships, making the play feel both highly specific and universally relatable.

At the heart of the production are the outstanding performances of Francis Nunnery and Amaia Naima Aguinaga. Nunnery brings warmth, awkward charm, and quiet emotional depth to Eli, grounding the story with authenticity. Aguinaga is magnetic as Grace is charismatic, unpredictable, and laugh-out-loud funny. Their chemistry feels lived in, effortlessly capturing the rhythm of a long and complicated friendship. Both actors allow the humour and the emotion to land naturally, creating a performance that is both delightful and deeply affecting.

This Is Not About Me is a triumph of contemporary theatre. With its inventive staging, meticulous attention to detail, imaginative puppetry, and emotionally honest performances, it creates a world that is at once intimate, playful, and profoundly moving. Every element from the set and lighting to the props and performances contributes to an experience that lingers long after the curtain falls. Quite simply, this is a show that must not be missed. It is funny, clever, inventive, and emotionally rich, a rare piece of theatre that combines technical brilliance with deeply human storytelling. 

This Is Not About Me runs at Soho Theatre until 18th April. For more information, visit the website here: https://sohotheatre.com/events/this-is-not-about-me/