Review: SPLINTERED, Soho Theatre

Splintered's path to the Soho Theatre has been paved with awards from across its runs at the Edinburgh Fringe in 2019 and Vault Festival in 2020. It promises a night of cabaret, verbatim theatre, comedy, and much more, all converging to create a kaleidoscopic exploration of the intersection between queer and Caribbean identity.

But with so many elements and themes to explore, Splintered bites off more than it can chew, resulting in a messy evening of undeveloped concepts that even the endless charismatic trio of Melissa Saint, Chanté Faucher, and Alice Vilanculo cannot save.

A number of images are presented, meditations and variations on the theme of queerness and Caribbean identity, but not enough is done to draw these images together to create a coherent experience. The piece feels more feels like a mood board rather than a piece of theatre.

Like a real cabaret, there are acts and an emcee. The acts range in tone from Vilanculo's sequin-adorned seductress tasked with coming out to her mother, to serious sections that lean more heavily on traditional narrative. The results are sometimes jarring, with the show playfully fluctuating from comedy to seriousness and back again.

Another act follows two Jamaican schoolgirls studying for an exam, except that one is desperately in love with her best friend. Splintered excels at poking fun at these heartfelt anecdotes, drawing out the laughter from difficult situations to use as a coping mechanism for the confusion, uncertainty, and fear that is part and parcel of the queer experience. But elements like the difficulty of coming out to a parent, or the fear of not being able to live with homophobic family members are left to linger without resolution and replaced by another theme or gag.

The part of the performance that turns its sights on the relationship between religion, empire and sexuality is potentially the most interesting. The topic is vast and ripe for exploration on stage. But for something so historically complex more time is needed than a rushed five minutes that crescendos in a boisterous dance number to illustrate how the church has propagated homophobia. We know that the religion and queerness do not go hand in hand. There is more to be explored here. But again, Splintered shies away from going deeper.

Likewise, there are fascinating discussions of the relationship between queerness and carnival. The kitsch costumes, blaring colours, music and dancing are all suggested to be overtly camp in nature, something not acknowledged by the straight men who cross-dress for one day of the year. Real-life recordings of interviews from queer women ground these discussions in the reality that is the lived experience and give the audience a snippet of the emotional heart of the play. If only there was more attention on this and less on the silly gags like the contrived Shakespeare-inspired visual pun playing on "daggering", a sexually charged Jamaican dance move.

There is nothing wrong with a production wanting to be a meditation rather than a straight piece of narrative theatre. But without a solid structure there can be no coherence. For a show that has been showered with so many awards, Splintered confoundingly still feels like a work-in-progress. It is brimming with brilliant ideas that its creative team need to whittle down and develop.

Splintered at Soho Theatre until 26 February - book tickets here

Photo Credit: Lidia Crisafulli

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