L.O.V.E.R.

By: Taylor Gates

It starts and ends with a washing machine—more specifically, actress Lois Robbins sitting on a washing machine to get what she calls “the feeling.” Despite the somewhat risqué opening scene and title (an earlier version of the production even included the tagline “baring it all!”), solo show L.O.V.E.R. is not an irreverent sex comedy. At least, not in the traditional sense. Yes, it’s funny and yes, sex is a prominent subject, but it’s far from raunchy or shallow. When Robbins tells the audience that her intention isn’t shock value, we believe her.

Instead, what we get is one woman’s vulnerable, complex journey of self-discovery. The first half of the show is primarily dedicated to telling us about her romantic relationships. It’s a cast of characters everyone can easily relate to: the sweet high school boyfriend, the edgy college partner, the selfish doctor parents adore, the irresistible but self-absorbed actor, the former camp counselor and the stable man with which one can finally settle down and find a soft place to land. It’s impossible not to connect with her sometimes hilarious, sometimes devastating tales of love and heartbreak. Her narration feels like a slightly older and wiser Carrie Bradshaw.

Despite featuring lots of men, it’s never truly about the guys at all. Robbins remains firmly rooted at the center and she’s never a passive participant. Refreshingly, Robbins doesn’t ever play the victim, instead taking responsibility for her less savory actions and confidently owning her moments of strength.

The love about which Robbins talks is not only romantic. Platonic love comes into play when she talks about a trip she takes with two of her childhood girlfriends—a trip that serves as a catalyst for the entire show.

One of the strongest themes running throughout L.O.V.E.R., though, is parental love, as Robbins touches on the intricate dynamic she had with her own parents as well as trying to navigate motherhood with her own children. For example, Robbins paints her father as a complicated, sometimes even contradictory, man: he slapped her for simply flirting with a boy in high school, making her ashamed of her sexuality, but he was also the one person who made her feel better about her divorce.

There’s a particularly affecting moment when she realizes how keeping her cancer a secret has negatively impacted her children. She lets people (and herself) be grey and imperfect, humanizing them and making her a trustworthy narrator. Considering everything we hear is filtered through her perspective, this is what holds the entire show together.

The set design works well with the material. Pete Hickok’s staging is minimal. There’s a chaise sitting on a circular rug, a bar with a couple stools and a box that serves as everything from a washing machine to a mountain depending on what’s projected onto it. There are three asymmetrical panels on the back of the stage on which landscapes, props and faces occasionally appear depending on the scenery and story. The only physical props are what Robbins identifies as her guilty pleasures at the top of the show: some alcohol and a few baskets of French fries.

Sonia Sebastian’s direction is fairly simple, too. Short clips of music and moments of Robbins dancing signal scene shifts and time jumps. Most of the time she floats around the stage in fluid motion, slinging herself on the couch or perching herself atop a barstool. It’s nothing fancy, but for the most part it works. It all has a very intimate feel, like we’ve been invited into her home.

Clocking in at eighty minutes, the production is long enough to get to know Robbins but not so long that it feels self-important. It’s the perfect length, letting the narrative reach a satisfying conclusion without the pace dragging.

One of the most powerful lines in L.O.V.E.R. comes at the end of the show once Robbins has finally figured out how to make peace with the idea of being alone and love herself for who she is. “I give myself to myself,” she says. For the last hour and a half, it feels like she’s given herself to us, too.

L.O.V.E.R. will be running at the United Solo Festival in New York City this September.