Close Enough to Touch at Waterside Arts Centre

If Stefan Race doesn’t become a star, I’ll eat my hat.

I’ve seen a lot of productions, but rarely have I watched one performer hold a small performance space quite like this. A look, a pause, a line delivered straight at someone in the audience. There was nowhere to hide. And yes, at times, I shuffled in my chair.

Close Enough to Touch at Waterside in Sale is explicit, funny, uncomfortable and deeply human. I went in knowing the premise. I came out thinking about far more than sex in public toilets.

One performer, and nowhere to hide

Henry Roberts’ play follows a young man whose long-standing relationship with his girlfriend sits alongside desires he is keeping secret. When I spoke to director Cheryl Martin ahead of the production, she described someone who is lost — not just sexually, but in his working life and his sense of where he belongs.

On stage, Race makes that confusion feel intensely personal.

He looks at individual audience members as he delivers his lines. You’re not simply watching someone tell a story from a safe distance. You feel drawn into the conversation, sometimes quite willingly, sometimes wondering where on earth to put your eyes.

I couldn’t always work out whether the audience was uncomfortable. I certainly was at moments. But that isn’t a criticism. This is difficult material, and the production doesn’t let us dismiss it as somebody else’s strange little world.

Gay, straight or still figuring things out, there’s something recognisable in questioning an attraction, a desire or a part of yourself you don’t quite understand. The circumstances here might not be yours. The uncertainty is another matter.

Every look and movement counts

Every look, every movement and every shift in attention feels carefully considered — a credit to Race’s performance and Martin’s direction. There’s real care here, without making the performance seem mechanical.

In our interview, Cheryl explained that Race has to move between addressing the audience, reliving the past and commenting on it — sometimes within just a few lines. Keeping those layers clear was one of the production’s biggest challenges.

Watching him, you appreciate just how much work is happening beneath what appears to be one person simply talking to you.

The set is minimal: a London toilet setting that, with a shift in the storytelling, can suggest a flat or even a bus stop. Mobile-phone messages and cleverly judged sound effects make that sparse space feel bigger and more vivid. Rather than compensating for the simplicity, the sound makes it more powerful.

It’s a reminder of what theatre can do with a well-written script, thoughtful direction and bundles of talent.

Awkward, funny and recognisably human

The sexual health clinic scene particularly stayed with me. Awkward? Absolutely. But that mixture of embarrassment, doubt and wondering what happens next could just as easily follow a lads’ or girls’ holiday in Kavos.

Our actions are often followed by questions. We are human, after all.

Cheryl told me she wasn’t sure the play had any villains. Her interest was in helping us understand the people involved without ignoring the hurt caused by secrecy and dishonesty.

That came through. I didn’t feel I was being asked to approve of everything. I felt I was being asked to look a little harder.
For all its explicit subject matter, this was as liberating as it was uncomfortable. An astounding piece of drama, delivered with an intimacy that made it feel unusually personal.

A first visit — and definitely not my last

I hate to admit it, but this was my first visit to Waterside.

Afterwards, a woman who had been sitting in the front row told me it was her local theatre. There was real pride in the way she said it. I love that about local arts: a venue isn’t simply somewhere to watch a show. It belongs to the people who keep coming through its doors.

Then came my own less profound encounter with modern life: trying to leave the car park while the machine repeatedly instructed me to turn my ticket around to scan it.

After all that reflection on human confusion, there I was, defeated by a parking ticket.

Life, eh?

A stunning production. Five stars.