REVIEW: Hold Me Hold Me Hold Me - Two Bodies, Centuries of Longing

Jake Stewart's Hold Me Hold Me Hold Me, presented by Kissing Booth Productions at Qtopia's The Substation as part of Pride Fest 2026, strips theatrical presentation down to essentials: two performers, an open stage, and a collection of intimate narratives charting gay desire and discovery across centuries. The result is a masterclass in theatrical economy and emotional precision.

Wheeler Maurer and Callum O'Mara demonstrate remarkable technical facility, inhabiting multiple but entirely distinct characters through shifts in posture, accent, and vocal register. Within single scenes, they move between confrontation and affection, between discovery and oppression. The writing demands this versatility, with quick-fire dialogue that oscillates between banter and tension, tenderness and conflict. That both performers manage these transitions seamlessly, establishing new characters with apparent ease, speaks to considerable skill and preparation.

The vignette structure (following what could be the same two souls across different historical moments and geographical locations) creates a thematic coherence despite the narrative fragmentation. Each could be expanded into a standalone full-length performance. Stewart's writing might point to his lived experience along with deeply considered fantasy. The scenarios feel textured and specific rather than generic. The stories do revisit themselves, allowing emotional development and the narrative to deepen as the performance progresses.

This work has a willingness to examine internal conflict alongside external oppression. The production doesn't simply present queer behaviour and relationships as inherently tragic or triumphant, but explores the psychological complexity of loving within historical contexts that during their time would criminalise, pathologize, or simply deny that love's existence. Some scenes feature the struggle of navigating judgement, while others capture the immediacy of connection regardless of era or consequence.

The performances capture both the affectionate ease between partners and the genuine friction that relationships might contain. This prevents the work from becoming sentimental or politically straightforward. These aren't simply noble victims or triumphant rebels but rather fully realised people navigating desire, commitment, and the particular vulnerabilities that come with a relationship that society refuses to recognise.

Stewart's direction, which is also his writing, demonstrates a mature understanding of theatrical language. The minimal staging in this case forces complete reliance on performance and text. There's simply nowhere to hide, no production design to distract. This demands rigorous clarity from both the writer and the performer. That the production succeeds with this approach reliably indicates Stewart understands theatrical intimacy at a sophisticated level.

The 80-minute runtime moves briskly. The dialogue and frequent scene transitions maintain momentum while allowing the emotional weight to accumulate. By the show's end, the accumulated force of these vignettes (centuries of revealed, concealed, denied or aching love) registers as something more than the sum of its parts.

The production's Pride Fest programming context is very appropriate. The work engages directly with queer history and contemporary gay experience, examining how desire, love, and identity have manifested across different historical moments. This isn't abstract historical musing or contemporary storytelling, but rather an intimate exploration of what it means to love someone when that love exists outside social, legal, or religious sanction.

What emerges from Hold Me Hold Me Hold Me is neither simple tragedy nor uncomplicated celebration, but rather something more nuanced. Perhaps this contains a recognition of both the genuine dangers that queer people have historically faced, along with the persistent human capacity to love despite, or perhaps because of, those dangers.

Maurer and O'Mara's performances, technically accomplished and emotionally present, serve Stewart's writing with appropriate respect. The result is theatre that trusts its audience to feel without manipulation, to understand historical context without didacticism, and to recognise in these vignettes something about love's fundamental stubbornness.

Hold Me Hold Me Hold Me. June 9-13 at The Substation, Qtopia Sydney, as part of Sydney's Pride Fest 2026.

https://qtopiasydney.com.au/
https://www.kissingboothproductions.com/

(images: supplied)

Comments