THEATRE REVIEW: Skin Hunger
All great love stories end the same way: the beautiful woman and her doting husband build a home together, never an argument between them, with the final full stop promising a long, happy life. Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy certainly grew grey together. Catherine and Heathcliff rose from their twin graves to clasp their ghostly hands, united even in death. But what if things don’t go to plan?
Tatiana Hotere’s Skin Hunger explores the after-happily-ever-after, the post-ending, where the husband has passed and the wife is left behind. Having written the script as a way to navigate her identity after the loss of her husband, Hotere’s performance as Eva is an incredible feat in both its bravery and reach. Aptly titled after the biological craving for touch, Skin Hunger masterfully unpeels layers of sadness, guilt, shame, repentance, and horniness – yes, you read that right – within its tight 60 minute run-time.
One of the show’s major themes was the judgement around “post-marriage” sex. This is defined by Hotere as the purgatory between marriage and singleness, where intimacy is again condemned as it does not occur within the binary of marital law. Eva embodied the conflict between faith and freedom, the pressure of purity while living in skin that craved her late husband. This between-ness casts Eva as an “other” who is neither an “Ava Maria”, nor a “shameless whore”: she is only a woman who does not stop having needs simply because the man who relieved them is no longer present. I’ll admit – I went into this show expecting a comedy. The sort of chortler and heavy nose-exhaler targeted at menopausal women, full of wine guzzling with dialogue mostly surrounding men and their penises. Skin Hunger is lacking in neither – although the majority of penis-talk involves the silicon kind – yet I was taken aback at the depth Hotere brought to the stage.
The structure of the show was impressive, interweaving flashback and present-day sequences to create a floating, mnemonic space where Eva’s tumultuous mind could be foregrounded. This lack of linearity was a strength, emphasising the timelessness of grief and the lingering effects of memory. I did feel some parts of the show’s mis-en-scene were underutilised (three giant blank rectangles offer more opportunity than mere projector screens) and could have been integrated better into this dreamy, lyrical feeling. With small alterations like this, the interpretative dance scene at the end of the play would seem less out of place. Was the dance beautiful? Yes. Necessary? I don’t think so. Hotere’s script spoke for itself and didn’t need anything more. Regardless, the structure was captivating, and lent itself to an original take on mourning.
The structure of the show was impressive, interweaving flashback and present-day sequences to create a floating, mnemonic space where Eva’s tumultuous mind could be foregrounded.
It’s difficult to pick what my favourite thing about the show was. The cast was magnificent, with supporting actors Albert Belz and Denise Snoad stepping into the shoes of a dynamic range of characters, each as utterly convincing as the next. The connection between the trio was organic and I believed every word spoken on stage. Although I’m generally quite critical of on-stage chemistry, Belz and Hotere were incredible as the husband-wife duo, and I forgot for a moment that I was watching a play and not sitting in my living room, inching back in my seat at my own parents squabbling over health insurance. Snoad was an absolute force to be reckoned with. Every part comedic-relief-yet-emotionally-dependable-best-friend Lorraine, I found myself giggling like I was witnessing something naughty whenever she whipped out her expertly delivered one-liners. And Tatiana Hotere – what a show-stopping performance. I left the theatre completely speechless. She was vulnerable, relatable, splaying her heart open on the stage with tangible truth. Words would not be enough to describe her.
Belz and Hotere were incredible as the husband-wife duo, and I forgot for a moment that I was watching a play and not sitting in my living room, inching back in my seat at my own parents squabbling over health insurance.
I’ve never seen a play so personal. It doesn’t rely on sexual gimmicks to uncover the often-neglected importance of female pleasure, nor does it blunt all the sharp bits of grief and suffering. Every moment was pure, wretched honesty, not attempting to disguise itself as anything but. Skin Hunger was absolutely glorious, and I thank Hotere for being unafraid to talk about the hard stuff. I recommend it as artistic therapy to anyone who has battled grief in their lifetime – which should be just about every person on the planet. It’s permission to be messy, to embrace all parts of yourself, to discover new things and abandon shame. Just remember to pack some tissues.
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You can book your tickets for Skin Hunger here!
Director: Romy Hooper
Cast: Tatiana Hotere, Albert Belz, and Denise Snoad
Written By: Tatiana Hotere
Producer: Albert Belz & Edward Peni
Presented By: Kaituhi Creative