After Sex

Whatever definition you come up with, there is a certain invisibility that cloaks people who are just getting to know each other. As they discuss the puzzle pieces of their past – she had pet guinea pigs who froze to death and flushed her goldfish down the toilet, he had a dog who he loved dearly, he likes his shoulders, she likes her feet – the reality of their present, and their hopes for the future, it is as though no one else exists.

The staging is simple but effective, successfully transporting the audience to bathrooms, bedrooms, and nightclubs. The pared-back rotation of outfits, and particularly the white vest and boxer shorts we see them in for the majority of the 65 minutes, is equally worthwhile. There are no external factors dictating the audience’s opinion of the characters. Instead, the chemistry between HIM (Azan Ahmed) and HER (Antonia Salib) does the talking.

And boy, does it talk. It was palpable, as though you could cut it with a knife, and a totally three-dimensional experience. You felt the chemistry and intimacy between them as clearly as you watched it.

This was in part also to the superb, albeit frighteningly relatable, dialogue which successfully explores all the facets of the Zillenial psyche. From identity and sexuality, to climate anxiety and the toing and froing between wanting different, and often incompatible things, no stone is left unturned.

Watching HIM and HER deliver powerful monologues, battling the conflict in their minds, was perhaps the most impressive part of it all. To experience their thought process as individuals, and how that impacts their role in a pair, creates a depth of understanding which is difficult to achieve.