Despite a powerful performance from Kristin Winters, Lovefool feels incomplete.Summary
Rating
Ok
The evening opens with a sex education video (designed by David Gaspar), a close enough parody of one that for a moment I assumed it had really come straight from the archives. It sets the tone for some of the satire to come, so close to real that it bites, and it is impossible not to laugh (and perhaps cringe) at the memories it brings back. Lovefool is a one-woman play with Grace (Kristin Winters) looking for love: the kind of love that could easily inspire a chart-topping pop song, with lyrics so catchy that they’d instantly resonate with anyone who hears even a snippet.
One evening, masturbating while scrolling through Tinder, Grace swipes right with Oliver, an Icelandic musician. Her multitasking fingers provide good comedy and there are a few laughs with a very candid Grace. Winters brings a lot here – the dry and dark comedy, but also the constant undercurrent of pain and damage. Her relationship with Oliver becomes toxic, with Grace’s descriptions clearly showing how little he thinks of her and how much he takes advantage. But this doesn’t seem to bother Grace too much. It is what she expects, and she wants to please. She always wants to be in love – but then she always drinks and cuts herself too.
The audience is on the Coronet stage, with close rows of chairs in an arc around a smaller raised platform. This close seating brings us into Grace’s therapist’s office and into her confessional booth, adding a level of intimacy through the staging. We hear her therapist, her priest and a casting director through a recorded voiceover. The use of 90s anthems like Haddaway’s ‘What Is Love’ initially suggests a lighter moment but bring back Grace’s memories of childhood abuse. A discussion with her therapist on songs discloses wider points about the lyrics of so many massive mainstream hits having women being subservient to men or having been written by women about the abuse they have received.
Towards the end, Winters steps off the stage and directs questions to the audience as a whole. While the play addresses important themes surrounding abuse, depression, and suicidal ideation, these broader points feel somewhat contrived and disconnected from Grace herself. They don’t seamlessly integrate into the flow of the play, making it feel like a forced inclusion rather than a natural progression. Moreover, it feels like a missed opportunity not to acknowledge the likelihood that those who do not raise their hands to indicate a connection with these themes likely do have a connection through friends and family but may simply not be aware of it, or be unwilling to speak.
Lovefool has some strange omissions, pieces which seem set up but are then not followed through. One such example is Grace’s ability to afford life’s necessities, like filling the fridge with booze and paying rent, which seems strangely at odds with her professional challenges as a struggling actor. Early on, her OCD rituals are briefly mentioned twice, hinting at a deeper exploration of her character. However, these rituals are curiously abandoned and never revisited or depicted again throughout the play, leaving a sense of incompleteness. It feels like a missed opportunity to delve into another aspect of Grace’s life that could have added layers of complexity, especially when combined with her trauma.
The evening is helped by powerful work from Winters, including a striking scene with large flashcards as a very silent Grace displays her trauma, and then a strong ending as Grace’s journey brings her some healing and strength, but overall very little felt new or fresh here.
Presented and performed in English by the Théâtre National du Luxembourg
Written and Directed by: Gintare Parulyte
Sound & Video Design by: David Gaspar
Original Lighting Design by: Daniel Sestak
Lighting Design for London by: Alex Forey
Lovefool has completed its current run.