Theatre in Review: Hold Me in the Water (Playwrights Horizons)

	Ryan J. Haddad. Photo: Valerie Terranova

In Hold Me in the Water, Ryan J. Haddad gets the star entrance he has long deserved. Rising on an elevator -- something you don't see every day at Playwrights Horizons -- he greets us ebulliently with "Hello, Darlings!" and his affection for the audience is mutual. His trademark self-effacing humor is still evident, however: Identifying himself, he adds, "For those of you who don't know me, I don't know how you ended up here!" Well, more people should get to know this singular performer, whose extraordinarily candid performance pieces -- they're like chapters in a memoir -- focus on the challenges of being young, gifted, gay, and disabled.

If you've seen Dark Disabled Stories, Haddad's previous piece, you know that he doesn't shy away from the explicit details of his (many) sexual encounters. (An earlier piece, Hi, Are You Single?, which I haven't seen, delves into his adventures in gay bars.) But Hold Me in the Water distinguishes itself as a story of Haddad's first love. In a stay at an artists' residency, he falls for "the hottest guy" in his cohort. During a series of activities not ideally designed for a person with cerebral palsy, he maneuvers to get closer to this potential love object, for example, on a walking tour, asking him in his best come-hither voice, "Will you, um, help me into this inaccessible bookstore?" The real epiphany comes at a nearby lake, where Haddad needs assistance in the water: "He made me feel safe. He made the beach, the lake, accessible to me. Tightly gripping my hands, our fingers intertwined under the water. Or keeping our arms around each other, water dripping off his shoulders." Hanging out with his new friend and muddled by weed (which he doesn't typically smoke), he adds, "I wrote an entire solo show in that moment. It was called, When He's Holding Your Hand and Your Hand Is Shaking.

It's surely disconcerting to experience first love in one's early thirties, but, in Haddad's case, it comes with many additional complications not necessarily related to cerebral palsy. What begins as a friendship acquires a sexual undertone, but the guy has unfinished business with another man in Europe. Leaving Haddad in New York, anxiously waiting for a resolution to a relationship stuck in a holding pattern, he heads overseas, promising to return with a definitive answer. Fortunately, Haddad's stupendously supportive family swoops in, offering counseling and support. (His father's X-rated assessment of the situation, not to be repeated here, is one of the funniest things in a show not lacking for laughs. His grandmother also weighs in, cannily, if less explicitly.)

Happily, the news from Europe is in Haddad's favor, and soon he is spending time with his new lover. There's a catch, however; it's not a shocker but a painful truth that takes time to come out, leaving Haddad with a reckoning, which he faces with considerable dignity and wit.

The latter qualities are the keys to Hold Me in the Water: The theatrical landscape is littered with performers peddling their personal experiences for various reasons. But Haddad's work is shaped by a radical honesty and almost clinical self-examination. He deals with his most intimate, vulnerable feelings without ever becoming maudlin, and he views the man of his dreams with remarkable charity, even when disappointment comes calling. More experienced veterans of the dating scene will recognize certain warning signs well in advance, but you're likely to be rooting for the affair to work out, nonetheless.

On the road to its denouement, the piece is packed with amusing and revelatory details. Haddad, nobody's victim, is more than capable of negotiating the details of penetrative sex over plates of pierogis at the Lower East Side restaurant Veselka. (The piece offers quite a tour of the neighborhood, featuring stops at the bar The Boiler Room and Spot Dessert Bar; undaunted by the latter's inaccessibility, he insists, "For a half-baked skillet cookie with pretzels and ice cream, I will face the stairs.") He is also fearless in describing the complications that certain sexual positions hold for someone with cerebral palsy. But his story is also spiced with wry comments about Whoopi Goldberg's Motown medley in Sister Act II, Meryl Streep's rendition of "The Winner Takes It All" in Mamma Mia!, and the High Line's relative lack of attractive scenery.

Danny Sharron proves to be a most simpatico director, keeping the show on pace and maximizing Haddad's strengths, not least of which is his ability to make the audience his collective confidante. The production features set, by the collective dots, which, aside from that elevator, serves as a neutral staging area. The set also gives Cha See the room to create gorgeous sidelight washes, giving Haddad the star lighting he deserves. Tosin Olufolabi's sound design, including piano music and such effects as lapping waves, plus a pre-show playlist featuring Diana Ross' "Ain't No Mountain High Enough," is well-handled. Beth Goldenberg's costume design is sufficiently attractive that Haddad gleefully details it during a passage featuring audio description.

But what keeps Hold Me in the Water so buoyant is Haddad's fearless line of inquiry, which does not spare the audience: "Have you ever dated a disabled person?" he asks, following up with several other queries that provide much food for thought. His new piece is, in many ways, about the evanescence of romantic relationships; ironically, I continue to feel its impact several days after seeing it. And I'm already looking forward to the next chapter in his theatrical life story.--David Barbour