All The Things You Never Said Before You Thought You Could Ever Say is a poignant Freudian dialogue between two versions of one couple, tiptoeing across important contemporary themes such as the need for touch, the essential split in the psyche of an individual, and the connection between our private and public lives. Guillaurmarc Froidevaux, Gema Galiana, Anthony Nikolchev and Zuzana Kakalikova, caress and dance the message of love, bitterness, and transience.
Speaking about the two couples, playwright Anthony Nikolchev says, “One version lives the reality of a missed chance, a missed communication, an unwanted grudge held over nothing. The other? Physically, verbally, feverishly trying what their former versions don’t – that is embracing the fantastic challenge of sharing a life.”
This small production is timely in its choreography and its underlying message: we always have the chance of “now” if we choose it. One the other hand, as is emphatically displayed by the play, we can fall into a spiral of negativity, biting at each other, chewing at the ends of our wits until one or the other has to leave the room.
It’s intelligent in the use of perspective of the floor but also about what it means to be human. For Freud, the individual is essentially split, doubled, and always in search of meaning and self. The play begins with Geliana stripping layers and layers of male clothes off before she stands in a little black dress, adorning an intense look into the audience, as if to announce her femininity; perhaps getting to the under-layers of her consciousness. What is to be found there? Intensity, passion and a great deal of ambiguity about what her lover means (if not everything!).
Hysteria, which, according to Freud, is the purview of women, is a theme which at once has the audience laughing, then jolts them back into place as they realise the underlying dread. The lovers hold each others mouths to stop them from speaking of the trivialities which does harm to their relationship. At points, they hold their own mouths, aware that what they are about to say is likely to trigger another bout of arguing, dancing, and forgiveness. So they repeat, like whirling dervishes.
The play is a good watch, recommended for psychoanalytical aficionados, or by anyone interested in the nuances of relationships, aware that there is always at least a third person, waiting in the wings to either lift them to new challenges or pleasures, or pull them down into the humdrum of another day.
[LEAD IMAGE: Anka Bogacz]