Review by Sam Waite
⭐️⭐️⭐️
A dimly lit room, only a cushioned bench and a small bin in opposite corners. A slim, clean-shaven young man enters, clad only in his underwear and a white robe, and reclines comfortably on the bench. Despite the gay sauna setting, and the speakers playing Bjork’s “Venus as a Boy” as the audience takes in the scene, this is not a show about sex – at least, not one about the physical act. Michael Neri’s Wet Feet, now playing at the Union Theatre, looks at the struggle to be accepted – by your inner circle, by the world, and by yourself.
Nathan, the young man we saw silently lounging during the silent prologue, is a regular at this particular sauna, inviting others back to his private room when one takes his fancy. Stepping out to smoke, he’s bemused to find that first-timer Franko has unwittingly stumbled in, trying to get away from the crowds and the graphic sights downstairs – in the first hints of what we will learn is obsessive compulsive disorder (whether diagnosed or not is never clear), Nathan watches quietly as Marko carefully disinfects the surface before taking a seat. Marko, 34 and “not gay”, and Nathan, 25 and looking even younger, clearly won’t be hooking up that afternoon, but quickly begin a friendship that finds them meeting weekly in that same private room.
Neri also plays the role of Franko, imbuing the character with a keenly-felt nervous energy that radiates from is every action. The promotional materials refer to Franko as growing up under the shadow of Section 28, and while allusions are made to this period, Neri makes it immediately clear that this is someone who grew up being taught that gay simply was not okay. His performance is strong enough that Franko’s social awkwardness manages to not become too grating when the pair first meet – segueing at a rapid pace into telling his new friend about his love for The Golden Girls, and how his favourite movie is Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit, Neri manages to come across as endearingly awkward, whereas someone doing this in real life may just be an annoyance.
Neri’s script, with adaptations credited to co-star Matthew Edgar, keeps a firm pace – advertised at around 70 minutes, the press night performance clocked in at closer to 60. Dialogue is appropriately conversational, gradually leaning into more serious topics with a friendly back and forth as protection against too many self-pitying diatribes. Both Neri and director Dominic Rouse understand the power in silence – there is as much to be said in the increasingly-close physicality of the characters, and in how they position themselves during transitions, where they move about the space to indicate the weeks upon weeks spent together. Neri has a real knack for making the inevitable seem both unexpected and, well… inevitable.
Edgar carries himself well through the emotional climaxes, beautifully representing the combined pressure of a younger generation whose seemingly lesser obstacles to acceptance often mean they struggle to express how much they’ve suffered. Where he can come across slightly stilted, almost too deliberately spoken in Nathan’s often-intellectual dialogue, the emotions are palpable and precise, really bringing to life just how frustrated Nathan is, and how much his experience differs from Franko’s. Edgar’s real strength lies in his body language, where he is immediately relaxed and more than believable as a young man comfortable in his own skin, as well as in his own sexuality.
While Wet Feet does handle its central themes well, there is a clumsiness to its references to OCD – it’s implied, via Nathan’s unqualified assessment, that Franko’s need to hide his sexuality has resulted in his need for control, and in some fairly extreme behaviours. Hardly an expert myself, I wouldn’t want to assume that such relationships between buried desires and mental health disorders do not exist, but one could interpret this as slightly callous, especially when it’s suggested that Nathan’s presence in Franko’s life is the source of improvements to his mental health, despite ongoing visits to a counsellor being repeatedly mentioned.
Still, this a charming play by a clearly skilled writer. The characters have enough evident backstory that we don't feel like they're blank slates, and the understanding of the differing struggles gay men can face in coming out and in struggling to do so are clearly well-understood, and perhaps close to Neri's heart. Even with the above criticisms, perhaps more my own interpretation than any failing of the work, there is a heartfelt, genuinely moving quality to every scene - is it perfect? No. But just like Nathan and Franko, these flaws ultimately make Wet Feet easier to engage with. Even the title, a metaphor for Franko's exploration of his own homosexuality, and a literal comment on his difficulty in allowing his bare feet to touch the sauna floors, is just a touch laboured, but just the right amount of charming.
Less solid in its approach to mental health, but with a rich and detailed understanding of the gay experience on either side of the millennial-gen z divide, Wet Feet succeeds on its performers’ charms, and on the genuine chemistry they clearly share. Powerful in key moments but with a good sense of relaxed, increasingly friendly energy, the twists are often gentle detours as opposed to world-shaking U-turns, but the sedate, approachable tone is both a good match for Nathan’s character, and a more than welcome change from the many mile-a-minute dramas hitting the stage. As likeably awkward as its setup, and as its playwright’s role, Wet Feet makes a surprisingly big splash.
Wet Feet plays at the Union Theatre until June 29th
For tickets and information visit https://uniontheatre.biz/show/wet-feet/
Photos by Matthew Coulton
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